56. Ember
Ember
T ime dragged out in bursts of light and sound. I tried to sit up several times but ended up sliding down. My head spun and my skin turned clammy. I was so hot I felt like I would vomit from overheating but then chills made me shake.
“Ember? Can you hear me?” Greg asked, leaning over the chair.
“So cold.” I shivered again, smelling my own sweat and burnt lemon scent with a chemical tang. I gagged, my stomach rolling. I couldn’t remember which way was up or down.
“You were hot a minute ago.” He picked up a scratchy blanket and put it over me.
I whined, shrinking away from it. “Too itchy.”
“Make up your damn mind,” he snapped, throwing the blanket on the ground. “You should be in heat by now.”
“It’s almost like illegal drugs aren’t all that reliable.” I shivered again, burrowing into the arm of the chair. It was too bright in the living room, even though the quality of light was different than it was when Greg brought me here.
How long had it been? It couldn’t have been more than a few hours. Unless I lost an entire day.
“This is great.” Greg stalked across the room, raking his hands through his hair. It was greasy now, and he had dark circles under his eyes, like he wasn’t sleeping well.
Good. I hoped the bastard was flipping out.
My vision wavered, the lines of the carpet and stupid lamp blending until they almost looked like a person.
My body ached, fire and acid running through me like a confusing burst of light. My ears roared.
I jumped in my seat. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” Greg rolled his eyes. “Focus. Are you cramping yet?”
I shivered again, my teeth chattering. My bonds felt woozy. I could feel my pack, but they mixed together until it felt like we were one single person, the same rope made from different strands, and the thought comforted me.
My vision swam and my mom stood in front of me. She had a bowl of soup in one hand, and she touched my forehead with the other.
“You’ve got a fever.”
“Mom.” My voice sounded hoarse. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She smiled. “We love you.”
Next to her, my dad and pops appeared.
“I didn’t mean to go on without you,” I said, tears streaming down my face.
“What are you talking about?” Greg shook my shoulder. “You’re seeing things. Your parents are dead.”
“I know,” I sobbed. “I didn’t mean to live when they died. I should have died too.”
“Nonsense.” Greg snarled. “You’re mine.”
“Never,” I shouted. My parents stood by approvingly. “I have my pack, and they’ll never leave me.”
Greg’s face clouded in fury, but my parents looked at me with love. He left the room, or at least, I could no longer see him. My head felt too heavy to lift, so I stayed curled in a ball on the armchair.
“It’s okay to move on, pumpkin,” Dad said. “We want you to be happy.”
“I know that. I know that,” I muttered, feeling guilty. “But I should have stayed with you.”
“No, you go on.” Pops touched my cheek. “Love your cousins. Love your sister and brothers. We’re here waiting for you when it’s time, but you have a pack to get back to.”
Greg reappeared with two more syringes.
“No.” I jerked. “No, no more.”
“It’s only another dose.” He leaned over, and I squirmed. Everything lurched sickeningly to the left.
I hit the floor. He held me down, and I whimpered, feeling the bite of the needle. I tried to rip out of my restraints. My shoulder ached, but I didn’t care. He wanted to take my pack away from me. I wouldn’t let him. They were mine, my pack, forever.
Darkness swallowed me, and for a moment it was just like being in the plane crash, utterly broken and alone. But the pack bonds pulsed inside me, and I remembered I would never be alone again. My pack was there. I could almost hear them telling me they were coming, to be strong.
I snarled, trying to jerk my elbow up. My hands were asleep, but I had to fight. I twisted and jerked and bucked, snarling the entire time. Higher thought went away. All I knew was he hurt me, pinned me down, tried to take me away from my pack.
A loud boom came at the door, and I shrieked, bracing myself for more pain.
But nothing came. Men rushed into the house. They looked like a nightmare, their scent heavy with gunpower and plastic. I whined, crying, unable to process what was happening. It was too bright, too loud, too many smells.
One of the men grabbed Greg, lifting him away from me. I wondered if I was hallucinating again. I had to be. My vision swam in and out.
It was still too bright and loud. I whimpered, trying to move back. One of the nightmare men tried to reach for me, but I cried out. He stopped and moved away from my vision.
I blinked, blackness swallowing my vision. I opened my eyes and West hovered over me.
“West,” I said, my tongue heavy. I smelled the rest of our pack around me.
“It’s okay,” Alejandro said, his hand patting my side. “We’ve got you.”
Ben and Rian knelt next to me. Their mouths were moving but the roaring in my ears was so loud, I couldn’t make it out.
I closed my eyes. If I was dreaming, I didn’t want to wake up anyway.
Blackness swallowed me.