Chapter 8 - Jasper #2
I’m about to make for the monster higher up when suddenly, I feel sharp claws sinking into my back.
A thrashing pain digs in through my skin.
I use my hind legs to kick behind, then turn mid-air, crouching before them as I snarl. More are coming. I’m outnumbered.
But I need to hold out a little longer.
One whacks into my side; another clasps its claws around my neck.
All I need to do is make it out of this alive.
I manage to slip out of their grasps just moments before one was headed straight for my jugular.
Once free, I run in the opposite direction first, then make a loop behind the trees and zigzag back home.
It was close. Worryingly close.
But I’m alive.
Now steps away from my pack’s border, I shift back into my human form. It’s always worse in my human form.
A shooting pain fires down my back. I try stepping on my right foot, but any weight feels like bone-crunching pain. So, I hobble.
Slowly, I limp my way toward the border.
Two guards are there to greet me, and one, a younger guy, comes racing in my direction.
“Alpha, thank God, what do you need? You look…”
I raise my hand. “I’m fine.”
The other guard, older, having been in this position for a while, calls the young guy’s name.
“Did everyone get back okay?”
“Yes,” he says, stoically, his face as unmovable as rock.
“Dylan’s not injured?”
“Dylan is fine.”
I nod. The younger guard understands, and he walks back into his place.
“Make sure I’m not disturbed.” That's all I say.
My pack seeing me like this isn’t good. I need to heal alone.
Once I get back to my cabin after having taken a couple of back routes, I’m about to collapse on the couch when two small hands steady me.
I almost forgot.
“Oh, my Goodness!” Tara yells, “You look awful. What the hell happened to you?”
At first, she looks shocked as though she’s just seen a ghost (or a shadow monster). From the look on her face, I realize that I must truly look like shit.
Then she looks concerned, those hazel eyes anxiously darting around my face and body.
I didn’t know what I expected, but I didn’t exactly expect her to care.
“I’m fine,” I murmur.
“No, you’re not,” she says, guiding me to the couch, where I wince as I sit down. Again, I'm not too happy for anyone to see me like this. But especially not her. Why does she care?
Tara traces her hands across my face and looks horrified by the crimson blood smeared on her fingertips.
“This is serious,” she exclaims. “I have to. Gosh. I have to get help.”
I shake my head. “No help.”
“Fine, then I’m helping.”
It dawns on me that Tara is not only human but also a very sensitive soul. She’s probably never seen someone return from battle like this; she’s probably never had to confront this much blood.
I suppose I understand why she’s concerned.
“It’s not a big deal, Tara,” I tell her, leaning back on the couch.
Crap, my back. I wince.
“I’m not human,” I say, breathless. “I heal quickly.”
“I don’t care,” she says. “You can’t just wait this out.”
I don’t tell her that she doesn’t understand how it works, partly because I don’t have the energy, and partly because once Tara has her mind set on something, that’s it.
She comes back with towels, hot water, band aids, and cream I didn’t know I had.
She’s hesitant at first, looking at me as though I’m some wounded creature (which perhaps I am), water-soaked towel in hand.
“If you’re going to do it, you should do it,” I laugh. Then I stop laughing. Laughing hurts.
“Oh, hush!” She whispers. “I just don’t want to, like, well, hurt you.”
I shake my head, closing my eyes. “You couldn’t hurt me if you tried.”
I expect her to respond with a sassy counterargument, but she doesn’t. There’s silence.
“Come on,” I tap the side of my face, “come at me. I promise, I’ll keep my eyes shut, I won’t even talk.”
I hear her breath, heavy and slow as she edges toward me. My eyes are still closed. Then I feel her hand.
Well, the towel, but beneath the towel, her hand. She slowly dabs the side of my face, and my body calms.
Despite the stinging, it feels, well, sort of comforting.
She continues dabbing, and in the silence, all the tension I was holding releases through my body. I open my eyes.
Her face is frowning, staring at my cheek as though she’s performing surgery.
It’s strangely cute.
“You said you wouldn’t open your eyes,” her voice is buttery and smooth like silk.
“It feels nice,” I tell her.
She pauses, gazing at me, and for a second, the world slows. There’s a strange, fuzzy current that passes through my body, and I almost reach out for her, but I don’t.
The light is making her look like a Goddess.
She looks away, reaching over to the table and squeezing white cream onto her two fingers.
“I thought you weren’t supposed to be talking either,” she says, looking at the cream and not at me.
Her voice is soft as she says this, though. I haven’t heard her be this soft since… well, a long time ago.
“You’re right,” I nod, closing my eyes and leaning my head back onto the pillow behind me. “Silence from now on.”