5. Val
Val
Holding my left leg straight out is agony, but I’m a determined man. I almost died during the attack on Marcus Criswell’s former residence. I was hit by a damn SUV driven by Joshua Dobson, and lingered in a coma, something previously unheard of for a shifter.
Well, there’s much unknown about shifters. It isn’t like they could have just gone running to a human hospital and asked for me to be treated. I’m damned lucky to be alive, and, even though I don’t believe it more than half the time, I’m lucky I’m not more badly scarred, inside and out.
“That’s it, stretch out your leg all the way.”
I want to snarl at Shania, the best doctor in the entire world, I’d wager.
She saved my life, so there is no one I’d rank above her.
I grunt as I hold my left leg up. I’m flat on my back on the exam table, and extending my leg just fucking hurts, but I can do it.
What I can’t do is shift. Or see out of my left eye.
I’m shit as a shifter, but I’ll still be the best I can be, period. Just because I haven’t been able to shift doesn’t mean I won’t be able to eventually.
“What’s your pain level?” Shania asks as she feels my leg, prodding at the deep scars that should have healed.
Shifters always heal unless datura is involved.
Datura is a plant native to the area that’s highly toxic for us.
A little on the skin acts much like battery acid.
We’re all beginning to think I was exposed to some of the nasty stuff somehow, considering my scars.
“Three,” I gasp, sweat breaking out on my forehead from the strain of holding my leg up. I’m incredibly out of shape given the amount of time I spent in a bed recovering, and not much more than a bag of bones instead of the bulked-up guy I used to be.
Shania narrows her eyes at me. “Only a three?”
“Yes,” I snap, lowering my leg back down. “It’s just my stomach muscles aching from holding my leg up, mainly. My leg isn’t even a full three on the pain scale.”
Shania begins massaging my damaged thigh muscles, talking as she does so.
“We don’t know that this is permanent. Unfortunately, we have no records of past injuries like this in shifters, not any from before when I started keeping records, at least. It seems to me that since we do heal from virtually everything but datura contact, you should eventually get over this damage.
It’s because it was so severe—you’re lucky to even have this leg.
If you’d been human, it would have been amputated. ”
I’ve heard the story more times than I care to. They suspect that, along with my femur being shattered, the artery in my leg was torn, and I very nearly bled to death internally, but really no one knows exactly what was fucked up inside me immediately after I was hit.
Whatever it was, it took me a little over two weeks to come out of the coma, and while I’m recuperating quickly, as a shifter should, I’m not recuperating in the ways they hoped.
No one, including me, thinks I’ll get my vision back in my left eye.
There isn’t even the hint of a shadow there, and the iris, once a solid dark brown, is almost solid grey-white.
I feel like a freak every time I see myself in a mirror.
“You’re able to walk with hardly a limp at all,” Shania mutters, not asking me. I’m relatively certain she’s talking for her own sake, not mine. “Have almost full motility, can even run for short distances, you just can’t shift.”
I quit listening then. I already know I’m a mess, but I’ll get better, will get my ability to shift back. My wolf isn’t gone. I can still feel him inside me, but it’s like the beast is sleeping, still in the coma I came out of. Surely that’s why I can’t shift, not because of any physical reason.
Shania taps my hip and I snap out of my thoughts. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Don’t ma’am me,” Shania snorts. “Guh. I’m only thirty-three. That’s a year younger than you.”
I stick my tongue out at Shania’s familiar complaint. “You know it’s meant as a sign of respect. I keep gagging on calling my cousin ‘doctor’ when I used to pull your pigtails.”
“And I’d kick your ass for it,” Shania points out. “Don’t even try saying that was because you wouldn’t hit a girl back. I’d have stomped you either way.”
“You go on thinking that,” I tease, knowing Shania won’t truly get mad at me. “If it makes you feel better. Ma’am.”
“Ass.” Shania pops me on my butt when I stand. “Get dressed, and go eat as much as you can. You’re too damned skinny.”
“Way to build up my self-esteem,” I mumble as I reach for my pants. I’ve always been naturally muscular, almost overly so, but several weeks on the brink of death have left me well past scrawny. It’s fuckin’ weird.
“Your self-esteem will be back up in the bullshit zone in no time.” Shania hugs me and plants a wet kiss on my cheek. “You’ll pack on the muscle quicker than you lost it, so stop worrying about that and concentrate on taking care of yourself.”
“Will do,” I say as I tug my shirt tail down past my butt.
I leave the room used as a clinic and go to the dining area.
The scents along the way are enticing, and my stomach growls and cramps.
I wonder when I’ll recover all of my ability to scent.
It isn’t completely gone, but it’s a lot weaker.
Apparently, I really had a wallop to my head when that SUV hit me.
No surprise, or it shouldn’t be, but the realisation of what happened to me and what I lost blindsides me at odd moments.
Inside the dining hall, several people call out to me. I’ve always been well liked, know I’m an affable enough guy, but I’ve never been truly close to anyone else. It’s stupid, but I’ve been holding out in the hopes of finding my mate and sharing everything with that one perfect man.
Damn, but wouldn’t my friends have a laugh over that romantic fantasy? And if they knew I’d never even gone all the way with a guy because of it, they’d—
I can’t imagine what they’d do. Probably not believe me or laugh themselves to death. That I’ve never had an actual relationship doesn’t seem to matter to anyone. They just think I’m a playboy.
“Hey, Val, come sit with us when you get your tray.”
The offer comes from my left, and, while I can’t see without turning my head, I know the voice. “Sure, Keegan, if you haven’t inhaled your food by then.”
Keegan probably flips me off in the good-natured way friends do such things.
I don’t crane my head around to see. I get in line and do like Shania told me to.
I have enough food on my tray to feed three people when I head for Keegan’s table.
I sit across from him rather than have him on my left side where I’d have to angle my head to look at him.
“And you said I got a lot of food?” Keegan teases. “Jesus, you have enough there to feed the entire pack!”
I know Keegan can see how skinny I’ve become but the guy isn’t an asshole and won’t bring it up. Neither will I. I shrug and pop a chunk of chicken in my mouth, talking around it. “Yup. Takes a lot to fill a real man up.”
Keegan snickers and steals one of my ribs. “So who’d you get the food for then?”
“Dick,” I mutter before I laugh.
Dinner is pleasant enough, with me and my friends ribbing each other.
It isn’t until I’ve almost cleared my tray of all the food on it that Nathan enters the dining room and looks right at me.
I hurriedly swallow and nearly choke in surprise when he points at me then wiggles his finger in a ‘come here’ manner.
“Oh shit, what’d you do now?” Keegan whispers.
I glare at him, wondering how come I’ve never been attracted to him.
Keegan is handsome as sin. I shove the useless thought aside and tell myself to quit trying to avoid the niggling fear in my head.
Have I fucked up somehow? Done something to annoy Marcus or Nathan?
I can’t think of anything as I carry my tray over to the trash can.
By the time I make it to the door of Marcus’ office, my stomach is one big knot of worry.
I’ve always strived to serve my Alpha Anax, was filled with pride the day I was appointed to Alpha Anax Marcus Criswell’s personal guard.
As a boy, that was all I’d hoped for, to protect the leader of the North American shifters.
The idea of letting him down in any way is unthinkable, and yet I can’t think of any reason Marcus would send for me.
Drawing myself up to my full six and a half feet—I won’t cower in disrespect to my Alpha Anax—I knock on the door.
Instead of calling out and telling me to come in, Marcus himself opens the door. “Val, come in and have a seat, please.”
He steps back and I feel his gaze like an unspoken critique of my shortcomings.
I know Marcus is seeing the slight hitch in my step, the way I turn my head to see if there’s anyone on the left of me, the way I have to scent the air to check for anyone on that side, not that I can smell much better than a human at this point.
Marcus knows exactly how badly I’m messed up.
Nathan comes around from my left. I sit in one of the chairs in front of the desk while Marcus moves around to take his seat on the other side of it.
Nathan walks over and stands at Marcus’ side, one hand resting on Marcus’ shoulder.
I force myself not to squirm or fidget in the least as Marcus studies me.
I do, however, avert my gaze, submitting willingly to my Alpha.
“How are you feeling, Val?”
I look up then, frowning because I expected something other than an enquiry into my health.
“Better,” I offer, wondering what I’m supposed to say.
The truth, I suppose, so I continue. “I still haven’t been able to shift.
I can feel my wolf here.” I put my hand right beneath my heart.
“Deep inside, like he’s there but sleeping, you know? ”
Marcus arches a brow and my frustration at my inability to find the right words grows.