Page 18 of Fate Awakened

“I...” Before I can even get a word out, he yanks my arm, forcing my body to move behind him. Surprise fills me, and I shout out before attempting to escape his grasp. That’s when I hear it. The low growl crawls across my skin, freezing me in place. Every hair on my body stands at attention, fear like electricity humming in my veins.

I peek over the man’s shoulder to see a snarling blue-eyed, golden-fur-covered wolf prowling slowly toward us. Its movements are calculated, and its focus lies solely on me. My body stands paralyzed, unable to flee from the threat before me.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” I whisper under my breath, realizing neither of us has a weapon, a phone, or any way to fight off a freaking wolf! Hell, the guy is only wearing gym shorts! My mind races, searching for an answer to how we can escape this. My eyes scan the area looking for a stick or rock I could throw to distract it so maybe we can find some high ground.

As I bend down to grab a nearby branch, a rumble rolls out of the large man causing the wolf to stop approaching. I freeze my hand on the stick, watching the wolf stare down the man before continuing to get ahold of a weapon. Then, just as I stand back up, branch in hand, the wolf drops his head, whimpers, and turns around, retreating in the direction it had come.

We stand in perfect silence, watching the path where it fled.

“What the fuck was that?” I ask after several moments. He startles as if he forgot I was behind him, and he turns around, his face a mask of indifference.

“We should be dead right now. That wolf should’ve torn us to shreds. So how the fuck are we still alive?” I say, my words flying out of my mouth as I begin pacing in the space between trees, shaking my hands partially to keep them warm and partially to work out the nervous energy from the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

“I get kidnapped, driven to God knows where only to escape, maybe, before getting lost in the FUCKING woods in the middle of FUCKING winter with no supplies and no phone, just to run into the only other person for miles, who of course DOESN’T HAVE A FUCKING CELL PHONE IN THE 21st CENTURY, and then if that isn’t comical enough, we almost get EATEN BY A FUCKING WOLF!” My voice grows angrier and louder with each statement, and I’m nearly hysterical by the time I finish, fully panting through a panic attack.

Strong arms circle me and pull me into the man. Tears fall down my face as I scream into his shoulder. He doesn’t let go. He just allows me to lose it completely. My body shakes, muscles clenching as I try to combat the war raging inside me. My mind feels like a hamster stuck on an endless wheel, dredging hopeless scenes one after another. My brain sends an unending stream of adrenaline, norepinephrine, and cortisol through my body, overwhelming my ability to respond.

“One…one…two…two…three…three…” he begins counting, one breath in and one breath out until my sole focus is on the numbers, not the overwhelming feeling of being out of control.

“Fifteen…fifteen…sixteen…sixteen.” One number for each inhale and exhale. By the time he hits twenty, my heart rate has resumed its normal rhythm, and my breathing falls into a reasonable beat. I feel safe for the first time in the last twelve hours, which is ridiculous because I’m in the arms of a half-naked crazy mountain man who smells like pine trees and hasn’t given me his name.

I nod once, and he releases his arms from around me before stepping back. His eyes read me, trying to see if I will lose it again, but behind their apparent hesitation lies a hint of understanding that I can’t fully wrap my head around.

“Let’s get you warmed up,” he says, turning back toward the trail, taking smaller strides this time to keep me from jogging.

“Who are you?” I ask quietly as we make our journey.

“I’m Ghost.”

Chapter 8

Cain

Awarenesscomesbacktome slowly. I drift back into consciousness with only traces of a memory of where I am or how I got here. Strong chemical smells assault my nostrils while an incessant beeping rings in my ears. Opening my eyes, I lift my head to look around, trying to get my bearings.

I find myself in the hospital wing of our complex, completely naked, muzzled, and chained to the wall. My mind reaches back to the memory of how I could’ve gotten here. My lack of clothing gives away that I must’ve suddenly shifted, destroying any clothes I had on. The tubes and wires attached to my arms and chest must mean I suffered an injury.

Why am I chained up?

I try to stretch out my limbs, feeling for any strain that would indicate a recent injury, but come up empty save for a slight ache in my shoulder. Nothing that would warrant a hospital visit.

Why can’t I remember?

Sitting up, I begin unlatching the muzzle from behind my head, removing it easily. I look down at the harness of silver chains around my chest, knowing this will need to be unlocked, already seeing the welts appearing on my skin where the silver has burned me.

After resigning myself to the fact that I’ll have to wait to be released, I remove the IV and pull off the wires taped to my skin. As soon as they disconnect from my body, the alarm starts going off. A loud unending beeping from what I assume is the heart rate machine now believing I no longer have a heart rhythm to measure.

The overwhelming volume causes my head to pound, and I attempt to push buttons on the digital screen, hoping to shut it up. But, before I can even figure it out, the door crashes open, and a frantic Dr. Radolf, our pack physician, bursts into the room.

His dark eyes skim over me quickly before he regains his composure and advances to the offending machine, turning off the alarm and grabbing my electronic chart.

Dr. Radolf came to our pack from Oregon several years ago. After the fall of the North in the last great war, several standalone packs in the Portland area merged, allowing him to pass on his role to a neighboring physician and move down to Vegas to be closer to his daughter and her family. His grandson, Finn, will graduate high school in May and is top of the class in our recruitment training. With his talent, it wouldn’t surprise me if he ended up in Jake’s inner circle.

While Dr. Radolf appears to be in his late fifties, with graying hair and a wiry lean physique, my guess would put him closer to ninety. Pack physicians generally lead long lives due to our need to protect them. As a result, they avoid most battles and risks allowing them to live well past a hundred years.

“Why am I here?” I ask, my voice coming out hoarse. He looks up, analyzing me for a moment, for what I don’t know, but eventually, he begins tapping some numbers into the device. I roll my shoulders in an attempt to calm myself when I realize my wolf is silent, still knocked out. It’s an eerie feeling not to have him stirring within me.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” His tone is relaxed, unhurried, and professional. I try desperately to scan my mind in search of the answer to his question but come up foggy.

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