Page 83 of Marked

I hear heavy stomps across the floor coming to my bed followed by a soft “Val?”

Taking a second, I suck in a shaky breath and lower my hands from my face. I’m met with a furious blonde wolf. And I mean furious. “Tay?”

No sooner does her name leave my lips that a stinging slap meets my cheek. I go to lift my hand to touch the tender skin, but my arms are pinned down as hers wrap tightly around me.

“You stupid bitch,” she wails, but it’s not at all spiteful like in my nightmares. “How dare you?! I wake up in the hospital with stitches in my neck, but you’re nowhere to be found. I thought he got you, that he killed you! I tried to leave so I could find you!”

She’s making my ear ring with her yelling, but I won’t push her away. Having her hug me is something I never thought would happen again. I wiggle my arms out, mindful of the IV, and wrap them around my small friend.

She cries harder at the contact. “But they wouldn’t let me leave! My throat wasn’t healed enough.” She squeezes me harder. “And then Scott tells me you’re here. That you almost died! He said it looked like a suicide attempt, but I told him he was fucking wrong because you’re you! You’d never be so fucking stupid!”

“I didn’t,” I tell her firmly. “It was an accident. I didn’t mean to.”

She roughly pulls back from me but keeps her hands firmly on my shoulders. “I know that!” she shouts and gives me a hard shake. “But I was so worried!”

“Taylor, baby, come on. Let your friend go,” a soft voice says.

We both turn our heads to look at the human woman at the door, Bryan standing beside her with a bemused expression.

“Hold on, mom!” Taylor says and whips her head back to me with a fierce look. “You’re not allowed to scare me like that ever again, you got me?”

I give her a watery smile. “Or what, you going to slap me again?” It’s a shitty attempt at lightening the mood, but it manages to get a weak smile from her.

“Most definitely,” she snips, but gives me another hug, this one gentler. “But seriously, never again, Val.”

“Never again,” I promise as I hug her back.

“Good.” She pulls away from me again and wipes at her wet face before pointing an accusing finger at me. “And don’t forget about the other promise you made me.”

To tell her all my secrets? I didn’t forget. She’s going to get all the dirty, gritty details of my life. It’s a payment I’m willing to make for her being alive.

“I won’t,” I tell her.

“Come on, Tay. We need to get your neck checked out,” Bryan calls from the door.

I give her a smile when she gives me a worried look and watch as she walks to her intended mate. They hold hands while her mother lovingly strokes Taylor’s hair. I’m hit with a pang of longing as they disappear from view.

Scott clears his throat to gain my attention. “I would have slapped you myself, but it’s much more appropriate that she did.”

I give him a faint smile and rub at my cheek. “I deserve it.”

“You do,” he agrees before gesturing at the tray to my left. “I also brought your phone. I wasn’t sure when you would wake up, or if I would be here, so I wanted to make sure you had some communication with the world when you did.”

“Thank you, Scott.” My chest tightens as I realize just how inadequate those words are. He deserves so much more than those three words. “Really, I mean it. Thank you for saving my life. I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t come to check on me.”

He ducks his head in embarrassment before nodding once. “I’ll leave you to get oriented. Let me know when they discharge you, okay?”

“I will.” I’m making a lot of promises lately, but I intend to keep all of them.

After he leaves, I reach for my phone on the tray. I pull up my texts and read each and every one from Taylor. They range from worried to angry, but I cherish each one. Going back to my messages, my stomach clenches when I see I have a new one from my mom sent two days ago. I quickly click on it and read the message.

Hi honey. Your father and I saw your boss’ press conference regarding the murders! Please be safe! We love you!

I read it three more times, my heart tightening more each time. Before I can talk myself out of it, I click on my mom’s name. The machine next to me beeps as my pulse quickens, and I shoot it a venomous look for calling me and my nerves out.

It only takes two rings before the line picks up.

“Val?” My mom’s voice is hesitant and concerned. Maybe a little breathy too.

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