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“How was school?” Parker asks, abruptly changing the subject away from my non-existent head wound.
“Fine.” If he’s going to keep his answers vague, so am I.
“You only went to first period.” He gives me a pointed look.
“I had a headache all day,” I admit, looking anywhere other than his eyes.
“Even after you left school?”
I nod.
“Does it still hurt?”
“No. It stopped when I woke up and you were carrying me.” I worry my bottom lip between my teeth, suddenly hating how close I am to Parker. I’m completely fine, so why is he so insistent on carrying me?
He doesn’t respond and I find myself wishing I could read his mind. I never get any insight into what he’s thinking. Parker is such a mystery to me.
“Hey, Parker,” I say, finally daring to look into his blue eyes.
“Yes?”
“Is it normal for supernaturals to come back to life from the dead?”
He shakes his head. “No. Supernaturals aren’t immortal. Nobody is immune to death.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t go to the pack doctor.”
He pauses for a second but then gets a determined look in his eyes. “We won’t tell him you died. I’ll only tell him that you passed out. I do want you to get looked at.”
“Fine.” I sigh, knowing he’s not going to back down on it. “By the way, where is your Jeep?”
“At your house,” he answers. “I can run faster than I can drive.”
Right.
Becausethat’stotally normal.
I start to ask another question when we arrive at a house I don’t recognize. It’s a white, colonial style home with two stories. We walk past the house and head toward a building in the back. Parker doesn’t knock. He just walks right in.
Inside, the building looks a lot like the inside of an emergency room, with lots of beds separated by curtains, and medical equipment. There is nobody in here. I wonder how often wolf shifters actually get sick. I want to ask, but just as Parker sits me down on one of the beds, the door opens and a middle aged man walks through.
“What’s going on?” the man asks, getting right down to business.
Parker rubs a hand on the back of his head. “Henley hit her head. She passed out, but she woke up about thirty seconds later. She said her head doesn’t even hurt, but I thought it was best to get checked out.”
The guy makes his way over toward me. “Hello, Henley. I’m Steve. Is it okay if I examine you?”
I nod, giving him permission.
The first thing he does is check out my eyes. He shines a bright light in them.
“You’re interesting,” Steve says. “Did you know that your eyes glow?”
I shake my head.
“You smell different too.” He reaches a hand up to touch my head, his fingers feeling around. “Where did you get hit?”
I shrug, not knowing the answer.
