Page 12 of Dead Wolf Walking (Bad Moon Academy 1)
Thankfully, I’m wearing clothes this time. I run my fingers over the cotton of the shirt and shorts, hoping like hell the nurse dressed me and not the doctor. Aside from not knowing what the hell is going on, my body feels normal. No more excruciating pain, and I have zero worries about being violated.
I mean, unless you count being forced into a sedated state and held down.
This time when I stand from the bed, my legs hold me up. I tiptoe across the wood floors to the window and peek through the blinds. My stomach drops as I take in the wide expanse of lawn which leads to a tall brick wall that stretches across the property. There’s an iron gate at the end of a driveway which has to be at least two miles long.
Pressing my fingers to the cool glass, I look straight down, seeing that my window is on the third floor of whatever this place is. I back away from the pane, taking in the plain room again.
Aunt Lou did it.
She sent me back to rehab.
Is that why the doctor gave me the sedative?
No. No. He said the wolfsbane would keep my wolf at bay.
There were supes in the forest behind my aunt’s home.
That doesn’t help me figure out where I am or what this place is. I chew on my lip and go to the bedside table, yanking open the drawer. It’s empty. Not even a Bible. If this were a hospital, there’d be a Bible, right?
The room is too clinical. Too bare. I stare at the door which undoubtedly leads to a hallway. Shaking my head, I decide against opening it.
There’s too much risk. If they think I’m still asleep, I have time to come up with a plan. If they know I’m awake, they might give me another shot.
I changed into a wolf the other night.
Or did I? Is this an insane asylum? Did I lose my mind and scare Aunt Lou?
Taking in the room, I see there’s a dresser, a small desk and chair, and a smaller closed door. A closet? I rush to it and wrench it open. Not a closet, a bathroom. My stomach cramps, and I barely make it to the toilet before I vomit, throwing up bile. I try not to make too much noise but there’s only so much I can do when my stomach turns and another round of acid spews from my mouth.
Once the cramping and heaving subside, I grip the counter and pull myself up, taking in my knotted hair, dark circles, and pale skin. My eyes seem to glow green from within, or maybe that’s my enhanced vision picking out the variance in the color of my irises I’d never noticed. Aside from my eyes, I look like shit. I wash my hands, splash water on my face, then take a drink from the faucet and swish it around before spitting into the sink.
I hate throwing up.
Using my fingers as a comb, I work the larger knots out of my hair, but eventually stop trying to fix it. There’s not enough time, and I’d need a palm full of conditioner and a wet brush to get the rest out. My hair is long and healthy most of the time, but right now, I look like a crackhead looking for her next hit. If I make it out of here, I’ll be hard pressed to find someone willing to help me.
Footsteps sound in the hallway, at least fifty feet away. Supe hearing is good for something. Someone is heading toward my room. No, make that two people. The doorknob to the bedroom door rattles a few seconds later. The metal creaks when someone twists it. I close the bathroom door, searching for anything that might work as a weapon. I want to scream when I see my only options are a plunger and a toilet brush.
“Where is she?” I recognize the voice from when I passed out in the forest.
“In the bathroom, obviously.” This comes from the other voice from that night.
“Fuck you.” Something bangs against the wall, and I hear a low growl which reminds me I’m dealing with dangerous creatures.
I spin around, lift the lid off the tank, and heft it over my shoulder as the door rips open.
The guy from the bar with black hair and piercing blue eyes takes me in with a sinister twist of his lips. “What are you going to do with that?”
“Try me,” I say through gritted teeth. I will knock his fucking head off if he comes in here.
I wait for the voice in my head to say something or try to take control, but she doesn’t. I don’t have time to worry about her because the other guy shoves him out of the way.
“Draco, you’re scaring our friend.”
Friend isn’t what I’d call us.
These two were in the forest. The black wolf is the one who attacked me on my run. Draco is the wolf who bit me.
The blond scruffy Adonis shoves Draco once more before waltzing into the bathroom like I’m not a threat. My eyes find the cool gaze staring at me over his shoulder, those dangerously full lips twisting into a smile when I scowl and swing with all I’ve got.
