Page 33 of Wolf Chosen

Pain explodes through every nerve, every cell. It's like nothing I've ever felt before, a searing agony that burrows deep into my very soul. I scream, my back arching off the bed as fire lances through my veins. Flashes of brilliant light strobe my vision before I’m sucked into a vortex of white. Liam convulses, a howl of anguish tearing from his throat.

Consciousness returns slowly, a gentle tide lapping at the shores of my mind. I blink, wincing as sunlight streams through the window, painting the room in shades of gold and amber. The leaves on the trees outside sparkle in the sunlight. Someone has cracked open the window, letting in sweet, fresh air. The curtains puff in the slight breeze.

For a moment, I'm disoriented, my thoughts sluggish and muddled. But then the memories come rushing back, a tidal wave of fear and pain and desperation.

Liam. Oh God, Liam.

I bolt upright, my heart slamming against my ribs, but as I turn to the male beside me, a wave of relief crashes over me.

He's here. He's alive.

Liam lies still and silent, his chest rising and falling with the slow, even rhythm of deep sleep. The fever that ravaged his body has broken, his skin cool and dry beneath my palm, but even as I drink in the sight of him, a flicker of unease curls in my gut.

He looks peaceful, almost as if he's simply sleeping, but there's a stillness to him, a lack of animation that sends chills racing down my spine.

“Liam?” My voice is soft, tentative.

He doesn't respond, his eyes remaining closed, his features slack and peaceful.

I reach out a trembling hand, my fingers ghosting over his cheek. His skin is warm beneath my touch, the stubble rough against my palm, but even that small contact fails to rouse him, fails to bring even a flicker of awareness to his face.

“Liam, wake up. Please.” Desperation rising like a tide within me, I grasp his shoulders, giving him a gentle shake, but his eyes remain closed.

A sob catches in my throat, my fingers curling over the center of his chest. I bow my head, pressing my forehead against him as the tears come in earnest now, hot and bitter on my cheeks. I can only hope that what Elara did is enough to bring him back.

How long will that take?

I swallow back the panic that claws at my throat and focus on tending to him in the only way I can. I head to the bathroom, find a bowl, and fill it with warm water. Grabbing a washcloth and towel, I begin to clean him. I wipe away the sweat and grime that covers his skin, and the dried blood that streaks his chest and face.

I roll him to wash his back and see a strange mark on the back of his neck. I frown, leaning closer to examine it. It looks like a pattern of blackened lines, the skin around them raw and blistered. Like a brand seared into his flesh.

A chill runs down my spine, a sense of wrongness that settles heavy in my gut. If I had the power, I’d incinerate Rowan to blackened ash.

I clean every bit of dirt off his skin, taking care to clean under his nails and wash his hair. Then, when there’s nothing else to do, I shower as fast as I can and when I’m clean, I lie back beside him, rest my head on his chest, put my arm around his waist and sleep.

Time loses all meaning as I keep vigil at Liam's side, watching the sun arc across the sky and disappear below the horizon. Minutes bleed into hours, hours into days. And still, he sleeps on, lost in a place I cannot follow.

Cindi is a constant presence, bringing me meals and coaxing me to eat even when my stomach roils at the thought of food. She sits with me, her presence a silent comfort as I pour out my fears, my hopes, my dreams for a future that slips further away with each passing moment.

When the walls of the room begin to close in, when the weight of my own thoughts become too much to bear, she gently but firmly steers me to the bathroom to shower again. The hot spray of the shower is a shock to my system, the steam chasing away the cobwebs that cling to my mind.

Mitch and Zane, Elara and Aria and Sarah take turns checking in on us, their faces etched with worry and compassion. They offer words of comfort, of encouragement, but as the days stretch on with no change, I can see the hope fading from their eyes, replaced by a grim sort of resignation.

I lie back next to Liam and bury my face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent and then, so softly I almost miss it...I feel him stir. At the same time, the strange presence inside me blinks awake, her golden eyes shimmering in my mind.

My heart stops, my breath freezing in my lungs. Slowly, hardly daring to hope, I lift my head.

Liam's eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused. For a moment, he stares unseeing at the ceiling, his brow crinkled in confusion. Then awareness seeps into his gaze. His eyes meet mine, a wealth of emotion swirling in those depths.

“Taylor...” His voice is hoarse, little more than a rasp but it's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard.

A sob hitches in my throat, my vision blurring with tears. I gather him close, crushing him to me as if I can anchor him to this world through sheer force of will.

“Liam,” I breathe, his name a prayer on my lips. “Oh God, Liam. I thought...I thought I'd lost you.”

He lifts a shaking hand, cupping my cheek with a tenderness that breaks my heart. “Never,” he whispers, his thumb brushing away the tears that spill down my face. “I'll always come back to you, baby. Always.”

He lifts his arm and his fingers twine into the back of my head, pressing me down. I go down willingly, brushing my lips against his before a feral growl rattles in the base of his chest.

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