Page 95 of Brody
I explained the procedure, a single injection of the serum, followed by seventy-two hours of monitoring for changes in neural stability.Logan nodded his understanding, the desperation in his eyes a stark reminder of what was at stake.For him, this wasn’t just an experiment; it was his last hope before the pre-feral symptoms progressed beyond treatment.I felt the weight of that responsibility pressing down on me.
What if it didn’t work?What if I failed him?
“Any questions?”I asked, loading the first syringe with precise movements.The serum caught the light, its blue luminescence making the liquid look almost alive, a perfect blend of science and the mystical properties of the COL.So much power in such a small vial.
“Just one,” Logan said, his voice rougher than normal as he fought his animal’s encroachment.“If this works… will the effects be permanent?”
Brody and I exchanged glances, a silent communication passing between us.His hand found mine and squeezed gently, his thumb caressing my knuckles in a gesture so achingly tender it made my throat tight.
“Based on our research,” I said carefully, “the serum should create a stable balance between your human and animal consciousness.Not a temporary suppression like current treatments, but a true integration.”
“Like what happens with the mate bond,” Brody added, tracing circles on my wrist with his thumb in a way that made my skin tingle, “but accessible to unmated males.”
“But it’s not a replacement for finding your fated mate,” I clarified, feeling it important he understood this distinction.“This treatment preserves your ability to shift and maintain the neural pathways until you find your fated mate.Think of it as a bridge, not a destination.”
“It buys you time,” Brody said.“Without the pressure of impending feral progression.”
Logan nodded, rolling up his sleeve to expose his arm.“Time is exactly what we need.Freya’s mating spell works, but it’s just not working fast enough for those of us with advanced symptoms.”
I administered the injection with steady hands, years of medical training overriding the butterflies in my stomach.As the serum entered his bloodstream, I monitored his vital signs, watching for any immediate reactions.
Please work.Please work.Please work.
“You’ll need to stay here for the first four hours,” I explained, disposing of the used syringe.“After that, assuming everything looks stable, you can return to your home with a monitoring device.We’ll need you back here at twenty-four-hour intervals for full assessments.”
Logan flexed his hand, staring at it as if expecting immediate changes.“How will I know if it’s working?”
“The tremors should be the first symptom to improve,” Brody explained, slipping his arm around my waist in a gesture that had become as natural as breathing.The casual possessiveness of the touch made my heart swell with love for this man who’d once been so careful to maintain his distance.“Then the involuntary shifting episodes should decrease in frequency and intensity.”
“For now, try to relax,” I added, leaning into Brody’s touch, savoring the solid warmth of him against my side.“Your body needs to integrate the serum without additional stress.”
The next four hours passed in tense observation.By hour three, Logan reported feeling “different,” not better or worse, just changed in ways he struggled to articulate.His vital signs remained stable, and preliminary neural readings showed promising activity in the pathways that typically deteriorated with pre-feral progression.Hope blossomed in my chest, tentative but growing.
“So far, so good,” I murmured to Brody as we prepared to send Logan home with a monitoring device.Brody stood behind me, his chest against my back, chin resting on top of my head, a position we’d naturally fallen into that somehow made me feel both protected and equal.I loved these moments of casual intimacy, the way our bodies fit together as if designed specifically for each other.“But the real test will be the twenty-four-hour mark.”
He turned me in his arms, tipping my chin up to meet his gaze.The love shining in his eyes made my breath catch.“One step at a time, Dr.Dhahabu.We’ve gotten further than anyone else ever has.”The pride in his voice made my heart swell.He brushed his thumb across my cheek in a gentle caress.“And regardless of what happens, I’ll be right here.”
“Promise?”I asked, the word slipping out before I could stop it, a glimpse of the vulnerable girl I’d once been, who’d watched everyone she loved walk away.
His expression softened, understanding flashing in his eyes.He knew my fears, just as I knew his.“Always,” he replied, sealing the promise with a kiss that left me breathless.
The next day passed in a blur of data analysis and anxious waiting.Brody kept me grounded, bringing me coffee when I got lost in calculations, massaging my shoulders when tension made them ache, and pulling me away from the lab for brief walks to Main Square when my focus grew too intense.His touch was constant, a hand at the small of my back, fingers brushing mine as he passed me equipment, his lips against my temple.Each contact affirmed that I wasn’t alone anymore.That I had a partner in all things.
When Logan returned for his twenty-four-hour check-in, the changes were subtle but encouraging.Logan’s tremors had decreased by approximately 30 percent, and he had gone a full day without an involuntary partial shift, the longest period of stability he’d experienced in months.
“It’s working,” Logan said, unable to keep the hope from his voice as he held out his hand, the tremor noticeably diminished.“I can feel it.My inner beast is still there, but he’s… calmer somehow.Like he’s not fighting to take over anymore.”
I tried to temper my excitement with caution.“These are promising signs,” I agreed, “but we need to see how things progress over the full seventy-two-hour period.”
Don’t get ahead of yourself,I cautioned internally.Good science takes time.Patience.
That night, lying in Brody’s arms in the cabin we now shared, I finally allowed myself to hope.The moonlight spilled through the windows, painting his strong features in silver and shadow.I traced the contours of his face with my fingertips, memorizing every line, every plane, every texture.His stubble rough against my palm, the softness of his lips.Mine,my cheetah purred.All mine.
“What are you thinking about?”he asked, his voice a low rumble in the darkness.He captured my wandering hand, pressing a kiss to my palm that sent warmth zinging in me.
“How strange it is,” I admitted, “to finally stop running.”I settled more deeply against him, my head finding that perfect spot on his chest where I could hear his heartbeat.“All these years, I thought I was running toward something—discovery, achievement, answers.But I was just running away.From connection.From belonging.From this.”
He tightened his arms around me, tangling one hand in my hair with gentle pressure.“And now?”
