Admission #2
He is already waiting for the moment, and I relinquish control to him. I feel my body begin to shift; it’s slower than normal, the pain fucking excruciating as each bone breaks and reshapes, and I snarl into the night.
The moment my paws hit the ground, I lift her onto my back, my water wrapping around her waist like a rope and holding her in place as I break into a run. My eyes blaze as I push myself, needing to get her the help she needs as soon as possible.
The Desert Storm Pack is left behind in a blur, and I keep moving; the trees and land are a blur, and the Blood Moon following us above is a reminder of the fate it had thrust upon us.
Mates are weaknesses.
The words come back at me with every step. Stupid, harsh and spoken by me.
Weakness?
Na, this is worse; this is fucking terror.
This is the world narrowing to one heartbeat that is not mine, and my desperation for it to be ok is all I currently care about.
Irrational.
The Black Storm border rises ahead. I tear through the trees, and within seconds, wolves are moving beyond the boundary, their scents sharp with alertness as they recognise an alpha crossing into their territory. I have to stop at the barriers, and I shift back, scooping Charlotte into my arms.
“Alpha Ares Westwood. I need a healer.”
They recognise me instantly and don’t wait a second to get me through the barrier. I feel the magic that makes sure I am who I say I am, and then we’re through.
“We’ll lead you to the hospital. Alpha Ahren is on the way. I’ll take her-”
I growl, and he stops, smart enough not to argue about it.
I carry her through the Black Storm grounds myself, following the man who leads the way towards the pack hospital.
The moment we’re inside, a healer is beside us.
“What happened?” she asks.
I swiftly explain the veil, the poison or whatever was down there and our prolonged exposure and use of a lot of power. My own body is exhausted, and I’m staying upright on sheer willpower. I place her on the bed, combing her hair off her face.
Another healer enters; this one’s a witch, and she motions for me to move back. “Let us do our job, please. Stand back.”
I snarl in response, baring my teeth when a calm voice comes from behind us. “I was wondering what rabid wolf had arrived uninvited. Ares, come on, let them do their job,” Ahren’s dry voice comes from behind me.
I turn, and despite the humour in his eyes, there’s concern when he glances at Charlotte. He probably knew about the mission.
“If I fucking knew you were here, I’d have called,” I snarl, stepping back.
“I just got home an hour ago,” he admits. “Sorry, I would have come if you had.”
I don’t say anything, crossing my arms over my Schattenblüte suit – I fucking hate it, but since I shifted, I lost my other clothes.
“You’re injured, too,” Ahren notes.
“Really?” I growl sarcastically.
“Yes, you look rough-”
“If it’s bothering you, then don’t look at me.”
Ahren raises an eyebrow, but is smart enough not to argue and instead turns his attention to Charlotte, and it kinda irks me that he’s looking at her.
Another reason this bond is fucking annoying.
They work quickly, hooking her up to monitors, pushing something into her veins, casting a healing spell over her.
I hate seeing her like this, and I close my eyes, trying to calm the surge of emotions threatening to rise again.
The memory of what I said to her returns, but this time with a bucket full of guilt.
Fuck.
She isn’t the weakness.
The fear is.
My fucking mouth is.
My inability to say what I actually mean until it’s too late.
I drag a chair beside her bed once they stop trying to make me move, and sit down, elbows on my knees, hands clasped so tightly my knuckles ache. The doctor says something about how they’ve done what they can, and she will be ok.
Only then do I exhale in relief.
I hear him.
Sort of.
Most of my attention stays on Charlotte.
On the faint rise and fall of her chest.
A nurse tells me I should let them clean my wounds.
I ignore her. The doctor tells me again, but I ignore him, too.
Then Ahren steps forward. “Ares, something I need to know?”
“No,” I snarl at the alpha whose pack I’m at.
“Right then, as a guest on my lands, you will get your wounds checked, or I’m kicking you out, and trust me, I will teleport you home and leave you there – without her.”
I narrow my eyes at him, growling low, and he almost smiles – almost. Asshole.
“Then we are in agreement; you will let them heal you.”
I grunt, not moving as they get to work, the best they can while I refuse to budge at all.
My gaze remains fixed on her, needing her to wake up. My jaw is aching from how hard I’m clenching it.
If I had listened sooner, if I had thought for two seconds instead of charging at every problem like brute force could solve it, maybe we wouldn’t be here. Maybe she wouldn’t have had to use so much of her power. Maybe she wouldn’t have collapsed after hearing me tell her I didn’t need her.
After a while, Ahren stops talking; I don’t even know what he was saying anyway. Once we’re alone, I look at the woman on the bed.
“I didn’t mean it.” I lean forward, lowering my voice so only she can hear me, even though she probably can’t. “You hear me, Princess? I didn’t mean it.”
I glance at her hand that rests on top of the blanket, and I slowly reach out and take it before I can think better of it.
Her fingers are cool against mine, the sizzling spark of the bond making me suck in a breath.
Her soft hand is way smaller than mine, with slender, long fingers and perfect nails.
“If I could take those words back, I would,” I say, my voice hoarse. “Every single one. You’re not a weakness, Charlotte.”
Her face remains still. I swallow hard, tightening my hand around hers, brushing my thumb across her knuckles.
“I was scared,” I whisper roughly, swallowing hard. I don’t say shit like this, and admitting it out loud isn’t easy.
But fuck pride.
Fuck fear.
Fuck all of it.
“I was scared because the second that bond snapped into place, I knew,” I murmur, watching her as the machines beep steadily beside us.
“I knew if something happened to you, it would drive me to madness, and I hated that it fucking terrified me. The thought of losing you... Of something hurting you, fuck...”
I lower my head, resting my other hand over hers, cocooning it between both of mine.
“So wake up and call me an asshole,” I say, my voice rough. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me I’m a coward. I don’t care. Just wake the fuck up, Arden.”
But she doesn’t answer, and I lower my head.
Come on…
I stay there holding her hand in mine, because if there is one thing I can do, one thing I have not already fucked up beyond repair, it is this.
I can stay.