Chapter 15 - Elena
Fury, heartbreak, and humiliation swirled into a black mass in the pit of Elena's stomach. She collapsed next to the bedroom door where he'd slammed the barrier shut between them, crying helplessly into her palms. A moment ago, she had been in utter bliss, the happiest she'd ever been. Then, abruptly, it was over, and she was locked alone in a cold, dusty bedroom with the deafening silence of rejection pounding in her skull. Honestly, this man could go screw himself. Hadn't they been through this exact same thing already? Why couldn't he see that they were meant for each other?
For a long time, she sat sobbing and shaking, wondering what she had done wrong to cause him to keep pushing her away. Occasionally, she tested the door handle, just in case it somehow miraculously opened, and wailed at the realization that it hadn't. Eventually, she curled up in a ball on the lumpy old mattress, hurt and dejected, her eyes sore and tear ducts thoroughly drained. Once she was thoroughly exhausted from the emotional turmoil and could no longer shed any more tears, sleep mercifully claimed her, and she sank gratefully into the abyss of unconsciousness.
She awoke with a start only a short while later. Her entire body shook violently with terror and shock. Somehow, she knew instinctively that something was terribly wrong. Even before her brain caught up to process her other senses, she recognized the chill in her veins and the sickening sensation of panic and nausea that rose inside her like boiling lava bubbling in a volcano ready to erupt. She couldn't explain it or make sense of it. All she knew was this all-consuming, overwhelming dread, this primordial certainty that something awful was happening.
Her eyes snapped wide open. Instinctively, she bolted out of bed with all haste, nearly tripping over the sheets in the dark, and hurled her full weight at the locked door to barge into the main room. It didn't budge. Despair and fear coursed through her as she slammed against the wooden barrier again and again in a frenzied attempt to force her way out. Her shoulder ached fiercely, and her breath came in shallow gasps, but she refused to give up. Her whole being screamed at her that she needed to be out there, that time was running out, and every second counted.
It was no use. Once again, tears welled up in her eyes, and her whole body shook with terror. She screamed Ryder's name, praying to hear his voice respond to her pleas, but there was only silence. Frantically, she shook the doorknob, tugging hard enough to pull it off if it were possible. A faint buzzing noise filled her ears as the air around her began to whip up in a whirlwind, bits of debris lifting from the floor to swirl and dance in the wind. She kicked and punched furiously at the door until her knuckles and shins were swollen and bruised, oblivious to anything outside of her primal need to break free.
It wasn't until she noticed the sound of the tiny windows rattling and the walls creaking that she had a moment of clarity. In the room around her, everything was lifting off the surfaces and flying wildly about: curtains blowing out in all directions, shelves, and dressers emptying their contents. Oh, gods, the last thing she needed now was to lose control again. Not here, not now, not like this. Those thoughts only added to the building storm inside. Soon, she stood in the middle of a cyclone of furniture and objects slamming against every surface repeatedly with each gust that whipped by.
The door, she thought in a blind panic, looking toward the barrier that imprisoned her. The door!
The wind surged upward, funneling into an airy vortex of pure energy. She held her breath, focusing every shred of energy on trying to direct its path. It hissed and cracked and wailed and flashed brilliantly blue as it engulfed her, crackling against her skin, pulsing with power, until all at once, it discharged through the center of the heavy wooden boards. The lock and hinges buckled as the door exploded outward, scattering splinters through the air like buckshot.
Elena stared blankly ahead in amazement before the reality of the situation struck home. With adrenaline threatening to burst her veins, she rushed forward, stumbling over the broken pieces of wood, and flung herself into the darkened living room beyond. The wind joined her, a torrent rushing madly in her wake like a thousand demons possessed by her will alone. It followed her lead as she darted out the front door and into the dark night outside. Filled with a combination of dread and urgency, she dashed down the forest path, heedless of the branches slapping against her face and arms as she ran. Whatever this feeling was that gripped her, it drew her inexorably deeper into the trees.
It didn't take her far. Down the hill, around a bend, she found him sprawled motionless, surrounded by crimson stains of fresh blood, his fur matted and soaked in crimson pools. No. Terror washed over her like a tsunami, an ice-cold wave washing her bones clean of all warmth, and she fell to her knees beside the fallen shifter. A strangled cry escaped her lips. Claw marks crisscrossed his sides and back, one shoulder gnawed and torn ragged by teeth powerful enough to crush bone. Deep gashes oozed blood in abundance, seeping into the soil all around her. He was breathing, but barely, his pulse weakening by the minute.
“Ryder,” she whispered hoarsely, holding one of his paws in hers, “don't you dare die on me.”
She tore off scraps of his tattered shirt and wrapped the fabric around his worst wounds, applying pressure in hopes of staunching the bleeding. It wasn't enough. His body wouldn't heal itself unless he regained consciousness. She glanced up into the air, the wind still whipping furiously around her. She couldn't make it consciously obey, but it acted in accordance with her emotions. There had to be some way to control it.
“I have to save him,” she pleaded aloud, “I have to. Please!”
To her amazement, the air above them rippled and distorted, folding inward on itself like a shimmering bubble. It encompassed Ryder, wrapping him tightly within its sphere, then lifted him up gently from the ground with a soft whoosh. Elena pushed to her feet and followed as it glided along, hovering just off the forest floor, moving steadily toward the cabin at the top of the hill. She sprinted to keep up. Her lungs burned and her muscles ached from magical exertion, but she couldn't fall apart now. She had to save him.
Inside, the wind deposited him carefully on the sofa, then dissipated with a weary whimper. Elena ran to the kitchenette and grabbed the satchel of herbs he had brought her earlier. Her hands shaking, she located arnica flowers, comfrey leaves, milk thistle, and yarrow root, improvising as best she could with a fork and bowl to grind them up to a paste while the water boiled in the kettle beside her. It wasn't perfect—there was no time for perfection—but it was all she had. She poured the water into the bowl, then mixed the ingredients with a spoon and added thyme and chamomile.
Aloe vera. There was no aloe vera here. She muttered a silent curse under her breath and dashed into the bathroom to look for anything that might contain it. Blessedly, she managed to find a tube of gel. Not as good as the raw herb, but it would have to do. Hopefully, it would still work. It had to work. At breakneck speed, she hurried back out into the living room, where Ryder lay immobile and covered in blood and dirt. She pressed a few drops of gel from the tube into the bowl, muttering the familiar incantation she'd memorized years ago. The ancient words felt weak in her parched mouth. She had expended so much magical energy already that this small task felt nearly impossible. She didn't let herself quit, though. She couldn't.
With trembling hands, she spread the healing poultice liberally over the deepest cuts, willing every drop of power she had left within her body to pour into it, praying it would be enough to at least help get his natural regeneration going. All the while, he remained motionless, his chest barely moving with shallow breaths. His body was cold and clammy to the touch. Come on, she thought desperately. Please don't let it be too late.
“Ryder, come on,” she murmured to him softly, brushing a few stray strands of bloodstained hair away from his eyes. “Don't leave me. Don't you dare leave me. Come on, stay with me. I need you.”
Her tears splashed down onto his cheekbones. His face twitched slightly at the contact, his eyes fluttering for a split second. His wounds weren't healing yet, though. This always happened, she tried to remind herself. It always took a minute or two to start working. Always. She repeated that to herself like a mantra as she waited, biting her fingernails anxiously. Her strength waned as her adrenaline-fueled endurance wilted, the wild overexertion of her abilities catching up to her, and she began to feel woozy and lightheaded. Black spots clouded her vision until she could barely make out what lay before her eyes anymore.
Finally, as if through a murky veil, she felt the torn skin beneath her fingers beginning to knit itself together slowly, the punctures and gashes drawing themselves gradually closed. The change was subtle, barely noticeable, and agonizingly unhurried, but it was happening. It worked. Oh, thank the stars, it worked. She collapsed forward as a rush of dizziness swept over her, her grip on his shoulder slackening as she collapsed on top of his bloody chest. There, her shallow breaths grew slower and deeper, syncing with the steadying rise and fall of his torso. In the darkness that enveloped her, there was only comfort, warmth, and safety.
Just as her eyelids began to flutter shut, she thought she heard a faint moan from beneath her. The voice came out in weary, broken rasps, so faint she half believed it to be part of the dream that was calling her inexorably toward it.
“Elena,” the low, growling tones whispered to her in a gentle caress, full of awe and tenderness despite the pain and exhaustion, “my Elena. My mate.”
Her heart fought desperately for her to stay awake, to make sure that she had truly heard those whispered words. A faint stirring of hope swelled within her, filling her chest with butterflies as she nestled closer, clinging tightly to his shirt and nuzzling against his chest. Could it be? Had he really just said—?
The encroaching shadows claimed her mind in their clutches once more. There was no fight left in her to resist their seductive lullaby, and all thoughts dissolved into nothingness. She gave in to the soothing song, abandoning her consciousness to their embrace, and drifted silently into the ocean of unconsciousness. It carried her in its tranquil waves, submerging her body in cool serenity, leaving only two little words shining like beacons on the shore as a memory of all that she knew in this realm.
My mate.