58. Summer
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Summer
M y head throbs so painfully that I squeeze my eyes closed, trying to ward off the fraction of light that is burning through my eyelids. The room spins in a way that makes my stomach curdle, but how can it be spinning if my eyes are closed?
Am I dead? I hope not. I was really hoping that death would be peaceful. Surely, it can’t be this bad.
I shift in bed, my bones aching. It feels like I did the workout of my life in my sleep. My bed vibrates slightly, and I tense as a snore echoes around me. Was that me?
I slowly open one eye, and the light feels like a dagger straight through my brain.
Fuck.
I close my eyes again, but the bed vibrates beneath me. I crack my eyes open, shifting slightly. Suddenly, the pain takes a back seat to the mortification I feel when I realize I am lying on a shirtless wolf alpha named Rick.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Please don’t be naked.
I shift again and look down at my body, finding both of us extremely naked except for my thigh holster.
I curse again under my breath and carefully climb off Rick.
Rocking unsteadily on my feet, I stare down at him, not sure if he is actually breathing.
I nudge him with my bare toes, exhaling in relief when he grunts.
He stretches, nearly knocking over a half-filled cup.
I frown and carefully bend over to pick it up, lifting it to peer inside.
The liquor is deep purple with an odd shimmer about it.
I sniff it, and when I get past the nausea of smelling the liquor while my head feels like it’s repeatedly being slammed by a sledgehammer, I recognize the lingering, sickly-sweet scent. Shit, someone roofied the keg.
My dress is pooled on the ground at the door of the barely constructed tent we are in.
Rick doesn’t move as I pull it on and slip outside.
Male and female bodies litter the clearing, all of them unconscious and in various stages of undress.
I look for Alice, clumsily stepping around people.
My brain is still so foggy, and I keep having to stop when vertigo sends the world spinning.
I spot one of my shoes cradled against the bare chest of a large shifter.
I yank it from his grip, and he snorts but stays asleep.
Perfect. Now I just need to find my other shoe, my panties, and my best friend.
I walk among the bodies, noting that everyone is in a similar state of unconsciousness.
Whoever did this got to everyone. I wonder if Alice woke up on top of some shifter too, after a night of sloppy, blurry, awful drug sex.
I barely remember last night, but I remember being on top of Rick and laughing at?.
.?. something. Perfect, just what you needed, Summer. A one-night stand.
It takes a few more minutes of searching before I spot Alice. She’s on top of Harris, half-naked with her fangs still buried in his throat. I nearly have to crawl over a pile of people to get to her. Given how they are all positioned, I am not sure I want to know what happened there.
“Al,” I say, nudging her.
She jolts awake, but then the hangover sets in, and she visibly goes gray. She swallows hard, and I watch as she pushes past it, looking around, confused.
“What’s going on?” she asks, her voice hoarse.
“We have to go now,” I whisper, curling my arm under hers and trying to pull her to her feet. Alice groans as she stands, trying to fix her clothes. She’s also missing her shoes, but I’m already yanking her through the sea of unconscious bodies toward the path out of the clearing.
“What the fuck?” Alice says, looking around.
“Alice, we need to go. Faster,” I hiss. My head is pounding, and so are all my limbs as I force my body to move .
She stops and dramatically throws her head back, her shoulders drooping in misery. “I’m trying, Summer, but my legs aren’t working?.?.?.” she almost whines.
I walk back to her and grab her arm. She looks at me as I tug at her. “I woke up naked on top of that wolf alpha. We need to go.?Now.”
Alice gasps, and then she’s pulling me. “Well, shit. Let’s go.” We stumble--run across the clearing, but slow down a bit once we’re in the safety of the forest.
It takes much longer than it should, both of us having to stop numerous times along the way to cry, whine, or vomit, but we eventually make it back to the house. I collapse on the couch, my head throbbing painfully, and when Alice slumps down next to me, the room starts to spin again.
“My head,” Alice groans, covering her eyes, and I pull a cushion over my face. “How the fuck did we get so drunk?” she asks, her voice muffled.
I’m about to answer her when I hear a slight tinkle of glass, and the magic in the room shifts a little.
Curious, I pull the cushion from my face just enough to see two small vials filled with a vibrant purple liquid sitting on the coffee table next to Connor’s flowers.
Cautiously looking around, I sit up and pick one up.
It has a small label attached, with the words drink me written in elegant script.
I flip it over to see the headmaster’s signature mark there.
Alice frowns and scoops up the other one to read the label. “Fuck. He must be pissed ?.?.?.”
Rafe makes a sound that echoes through the baby monitor, and I pull it free from the holster.
“Couldn’t make it home with my panties, both of my shoes, or my dignity, but somehow, I still have this.”
“No way,” Alice says, chuckling, but it is short-lived as it makes both of our heads hurt. Alice moans and clumsily rolls onto her hip, pulling two phones out of her pocket. “Hey, I have your phone. Also, no shoes, though?.?.?.”
There is a loud crash from upstairs, and Rafe’s curse rings through the monitor. I try to get up to check on him, but my bones protest, so instead I use the intercom function and press the button.
“You okay?” I ask, my voice raspy, and even I can hear the hangover within it .
“Summer? Where are you?.?.?. Are you fucking kidding?” Rafe grumbles, his voice getting louder as he approaches the monitor.
“Are you okay?” I ask again, irritation in my voice at the effort and pain it is taking even to communicate.
“I’m fine,” he snaps.
Alice snatches the monitor from me. “Can you keep it down, then? We’re dying.”
The receiver in my hand shrieks like it is being tortured, the sound piercing my skull, and then goes dead. I am pretty sure that Rafe just crushed his monitor.
Alice groans and pops the cork off the small vial. She sniffs it and gags, which turns my stomach. “I’m not sure we should drink any more unidentified substances,” Alice says, pondering the liquid and swirling it around a little.
“I don’t care if this kills me or turns me into a frog.
I just need the pain to go away,” I say, popping the cork of my own and downing it in one gulp.
It’s sour, and it tastes as bad as it smells, though there is a lingering sweetness that isn’t completely unpleasant.
“Whatever my end is, I’m going to face it beneath a burning shower,” I say as I grab my phone and struggle to my feet.
With immense effort and concentration, I slowly make my way up the stairs.
After my shower, I’m feeling a little less like death, more like almost dead.
I wrap the towel a little tighter around my shivering body as I sit on the edge of my bed.
I stare down at my phone, dreading checking the messages and seeing what damage I’ve done, but perhaps if I do it now, I might then die, and I won’t have to deal with the consequences.
A message pops up on the screen before I’ve gathered the courage to unlock it.
Unknown
What happened?
I ignore the message and curl up in my bed, still wrapped in my towel. The nausea comes and goes, but slowly, the hangover starts to subside, and I drift in and out of consciousness for the next few hours.
A loud noise in the hall outside my room wakes me, and though I am feeling a bit better, my head still throbs at the sound. A snarl rips from my throat as I pull my pillow over my head .
“Time to get up!” Rafe shouts from behind my door.
“Fuck off.”
My door opens. “So,” Rafe says. “How’s the hangover?” He sounds brighter, more alive than he has since the Fall. Unfortunately, that isn’t going to last, given I’m about to rip his throat out.
With all the grace of a beached whale, moans and groans included, I roll onto my other side, turning to give him my back.
“Alice is on the floor in her bedroom. I think she’s dying. You appear to be too. Am I to become an orphan?” he asks, and my brows draw at the joke. I’m not sure Rafe has ever told a joke before.
I flop onto my back and sit up. Studying him closely, I realize he looks?.
.?. better. His skin is clear and glowing, and his wounds are healing well.
I read about this. It’s the turning point day.
It’s called the cambiare , or “the change.” I didn’t believe it when I read about it, yet here is the proof.
He looks healthy, and while he’s still transforming, he looks like a demon.
His horns are still tiny and admittedly adorable, but he seems taller and more comfortable in his skin.
“Either get in bed and cuddle me or go away,” I grumble. He rolls his eyes, and I am expecting him to turn and walk away, but he surprises me by climbing into bed with me. I blink as he leans back against the headboard and opens his arms.
“I’m about to change my mind,” he growls when I don’t immediately shift into them. I scramble into his arms and cuddle against him. He’s so like Connor, yet not, his energy darker and heavier.
“I won’t do this for Zach or Zane. So don’t tell them.”