14. Doyle
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
DOYLE
I dreamt of William.
We were walking along the lake in the middle of the Sky Stead woods, a familiar path that we had strolled countless times.
William walked a few steps ahead of me, tilting his head slightly to enjoy the sun on his face.
I was content to remain a few paces behind, admiring his gorgeous profile, the way the sunlight played off his features.
"What are you doing all the way back there?" William asked, glancing over his shoulder with a playful smile.
I took that as an invitation to come forward, but when I reached for his hand, my fingers passed through air.
I sucked in a breath, and my heart felt like lead.
The William I was seeing was merely a ghost, a figment of my imagination.
Strangely, the thought didn't sadden me as much as I expected.
"Look out for him, Doyle. Things are about to become worse before they become better," William said, turning to look at me fully.
He smiled, slipping his hand past the collar of my shirt to touch the handprint there.
This time, I could feel the warmth of his touch.
"Do you mean Michael?" I asked, trying to make sense of everything.
"Protect him, Doyle, and when the time comes, never turn away from him,” he said.
"I promise," I whispered.
Those were the last words I said to my former mate before waking up in the present.
My heart pounded as I sat up in bed, the remnants of the dream lingering in my mind.
William's words echoed in my head. Protect Michael. Things are about to become worse before they become better.
What did William mean by that? I looked over at Michael, still asleep beside me, his face peaceful in the early morning light.
The sight of him brought a rush of emotions—love, determination, and a fierce protectiveness. I couldn't let anything happen to him.
I gently brushed a strand of hair from Michael's forehead, my mind racing with the implications of the dream.
William had always been a source of guidance and strength for me, even now, years after his passing. His warning couldn't be ignored.
Michael stirred, but he didn’t wake.
Instead, he turned on his side and curled into a ball, groaning and murmuring words I couldn’t make sense of in his sleep.
He was still having nightmares. That didn’t surprise me, especially after everything he had been through.
"Michael," I said gently, reaching out to wake him.
It was the wrong move. Michael suddenly reacted like a cornered animal, clawing and screaming at me.
I held my ground, not caring that he raked his nails across my arms.
"Michael, wake up. It's just a bad dream," I repeated, trying to keep my voice calm and soothing.
No matter what I did, I couldn’t seem to help him snap out of it, and that disturbed me deeply.
Desperate, I tried a different tactic and kissed him.
His eyes flew open, and he looked at me uncomprehendingly for a few seconds, as if he didn’t know who I was or where he was.
Then he shook his head and whispered, "Doyle?"
"I'm right here," I assured him.
Michael looked down and saw the bloody scratches he left on my arm. His face paled.
Reluctantly, I released him, thinking he needed space.
He got out of bed, rubbing his arms. He was hunched over, and a frustrated growl slipped his lips.
I understood what he was feeling; his inner beast must want out, and the space probably felt claustrophobic.
"Come on," I told him, opening the nearby drawer and grabbing him some clothes. "Put these on."
"What? What's going on?" Michael asked, confused.
"We're going for a drive. It's time to let your fox loose," I said.
Michael's eyes flickered with understanding and a hint of hope. He quickly dressed, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.
I threw on some clothes and we headed downstairs, moving as quietly as possible so as not to disturb Otis and Zane.
The cool early morning air hit us as we stepped outside.
Michael took a deep breath, his eyes darting around as if expecting an ambush.
I placed a reassuring hand on his back, guiding him to the truck.
Once we were on the road, I glanced at him, noting how the tension seemed to lift the farther we got from the house.
"You need this," I said quietly. "Your fox needs this."
He nodded, staring out the window.
"I know. I just... I hate that I keep putting you through this,” he said.
"Hey, none of that," I said firmly. “Healing takes time, remember?”
Michael glanced at me, a flicker of a smile on his lips.
"Yeah, I remember,” Michael answered.
We drove in silence for a while, the dark woods passing by in a blur. Finally, I pulled over at a secluded spot I knew well.
It was perfect for shifting, far enough from civilization that no one would disturb us.
"Go on," I said, nodding toward the trees. "I'll be right here."
Michael hesitated, then stepped out of the truck. He took a few steps forward and paused.
He looked uncertain, almost troubled. I walked over to him, concerned.
"What's wrong?" I asked, gently touching his arm.
Michael hesitated, then sighed. "I haven't changed forms in five years," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper.
Horrified, I pulled him close, holding him tightly.
"Of course, being a prisoner, Liliana and her coven wouldn't have allowed it," I said.
"Sometimes, I wonder if my fox is still there, or if he died in that place so my human half could survive," Michael confessed, his voice trembling.
"He's there, Michael. He'll always be there," I assured him, my voice firm but tender.
"How are you so sure?" Michael demanded, looking up at me with a mixture of desperation and hope.
"I feel him sometimes, especially when we're together," I said, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.
"Yeah?" Michael's eyes softened, and he tentatively touched the scratches he'd left on my arm, wincing. "I'm so sorry I hurt you just now."
"You didn't. The scratches are already healing, see?" I showed him my arm, where the wounds were already closing up. "It's okay, Michael."
Michael tried calling out to his fox a few more times, but nothing happened. I could see the frustration building in his eyes.
He needed a different approach, some encouragement.
"Maybe what you need is some company," I suggested.
I moved a distance away and began taking off my clothes.
"W-what are you doing?" Michael asked, confusion and curiosity in his voice.
"We'll be in our other forms together," I said, hoping that would encourage him.
I focused, feeling the familiar surge of power as I shifted into my dragon form.
My body expanded, scales replacing skin, wings unfurling. I let out a deep, resonant growl.
Michael watched me for a moment, then closed his eyes and tried again. Slowly but surely, he began to coax his fox out.
His body shimmered and shrank, fur sprouting as he transformed.
His fox form was small, agile and beautiful. He ran up to me, panting, then licked my huge muzzle.
I gave him a gentle nudge with my snout, and he barked in response, his eyes shining with a mixture of relief and joy.
Michael started exploring the woods, his movements tentative at first, then growing more confident.
I remained where I was, watching him re-experience the joy of being in his second form.
His fox darted through the trees, pausing occasionally to look back at me as if to make sure I was still there.
Seeing him like this, free and happy, filled me with a sense of contentment.
The night was quiet, the only sounds those of the forest around us. After a while, Michael returned, his fox form panting slightly but looking more relaxed.
He shifted back, and so did I. I finished first and after dressing, I handed him back his clothes.
He dressed quickly, then walked over to me, a sheepish look on his face.
“You good?” I asked.
"Yeah," he said, his voice soft. “Thank you, Doyle.”
"We're not heading back to Zane's house?" Michael asked, sounding surprised.
I turned the truck left onto a familiar dirt road that led deeper into the woods.
"I want to show you something," I replied, glancing at him with a smile.
The cabin soon appeared in my line of sight. Michael curiously peered out the window, trying to make out what was ahead of us.
Finally, I killed the engine and got out. Michael did the same, looking around with undisguised interest.
"Is this yours?" Michael asked, his eyes wide with curiosity.
"Yeah, when I need some time away from the pack and need to be alone, I come here. Plus, see that little section there?" I nodded toward the small workshop attached to the cabin. "That's my workshop."
"Your workshop?" Michael repeated, his eyes lighting up. "I remember you mentioning you make wood carvings in your free time."
"Yeah, it's kind of my livelihood. Well, we've lived so long that money isn't really an issue, but if my hobby can be profitable, why not, right?" I asked.
"Why not," Michael agreed, a smile spreading across his face. "Say, can I see it?"
"Of course," I said, reaching for his hand.
Michael seemed pleased by the gesture.
I led him to the workshop, turning on the lights so he could see better.
I grimaced, recalling how frustrated I'd been with a current piece, so the place was a mess.
Now I wished I’d cleaned up a little before bringing him here.
"Wow, Doyle, these are amazing," Michael said, gazing at the wood carvings on display.
What caught his interest was a large piece the size of a dining table, depicting Draven in his dragon form, wings spread wide.
"Actually," I said, walking behind Michael as he looked at every single wood carving in the workshop, "I could use some help."
"Help?" he asked, turning to look at me.
"I usually sell my pieces through word of mouth or through the local furniture store, but I'm trying to go online," I explained.
"I could help you with that," Michael said eagerly.
I figured he'd want something to do while he was here and I really did want to expand my business but had no idea how to go about it.
"Of course, I'll pay you," I added.
"Did you just give me a job so we could stay close together?" Michael asked in a teasing voice, clearly feeling a lot better.
"Maybe," I admitted, grinning. We eventually left the workshop and entered the cabin. "We could stay here for the night."
I gave Michael a short tour of the place. There wasn't much to see, but Michael seemed to feel right at home.
"I like it here," he said, beaming at me.
I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close.
"How are you feeling now?" I asked softly, brushing a kiss against his forehead.
“Much better," Michael murmured. "Being here with you... it feels right."
"I'm glad," I whispered, holding him tighter.
We ended up in the kitchen, and I started looking through the shelves and fridge, hoping to find something to make us breakfast.
The one downside of living here was that the nearest grocery store was back in town.
As I rummaged through the pantry, I found some eggs, a loaf of bread, and a few vegetables that were still fresh.
"Looks like we're in luck," I said, glancing over at Michael, who was watching me. "I can whip up some scrambled eggs and toast."
"That sounds perfect," Michael replied, settling himself at the small kitchen table.
He looked more relaxed here, and it made me happy to see him at ease.
I started chopping up the vegetables, my mind wandering back to the moment I brought Michael here.
I hadn't planned it, but seeing him so comfortable in this space made me realize it was the right decision.
The cabin was my sanctuary, and I wanted it to be his too.
As I cracked the eggs into a bowl and whisked them, I could feel Michael's eyes on me. I glanced up, catching his gaze.
"What are you thinking about?" I asked.
"Just how nice it is out here,” he said softly. "It's quiet. Private.”
I finished cooking the eggs, adding the vegetables in, and toasted the bread.
I plated everything up and brought the food to the table, setting a plate in front of Michael before sitting down across from him.
"Bon appétit," I said with a grin.
Michael laughed, the sound light and free. "Thanks, Doyle. I can’t wait to dig in,” he said.
We ate in comfortable silence for a while, the tension from the past few days slowly melting away.
As we finished breakfast, I reached across the table, taking Michael's hand in mine.
“If things ever get too much at Zane's house, we can come up here anytime. This place is yours too now. A retreat whenever you need it,” I told him.
Michael's eyes widened, and he squeezed my hand back. "Really?"
"Really," I assured him. "Whenever it feels like too much, just say the word, and we can come here."