3. Shay

THREE

Shay

" D irge? Is that your name?" I asked, trying to distract him with something, anything. Even something as mundane as his name. I didn't want to keep thinking of him as feral, even if it was technically true. Feral meant I was doomed, though. If he couldn't reason, if he couldn't let Reed and John Henry help me…

No, I couldn't think about that. About losing my wolf forever.

She whined, the sound high and mournful inside my skull.

Dirge stared intently at me, as if trying to communicate something, though all I saw was the red of his eyes flicker, a glowing hazel flashing at me before cementing back as red.

Was the man still fighting for control? I smiled at the thought, even as something wet touched my cheek. He suddenly howled, staggering to the side.

I heard Reed shout something, but it was distant, like he was down a long, cold tunnel.

Cold, yes. My eyelids were so heavy. I fought to keep them open as the lights danced over my head. And then Dirge was gone, replaced by the worried pack healer, John Henry .

"Shay? Stay with me. I've brought the antidote and a pain drug. Shay?"

Why was he shaking me? Didn't he know my stomach hurt?

A grip like a steel band held my arm, then a sharp pinch at the crook of my arm preceded blissful darkness.

Beep… Beep… Beep…

What was that Goddess-cursed noise? I tried to scrub my eyes, but my arm was so heavy, it barely budged off the mattress.

Wait.

I wasn't on a mattress before.

The memories came rushing back, and my eyelids flew open.

"Dirge?" His name came out a hoarse whisper, and I cleared my desert-dry throat and tried again. "Dirge!"

"Shh, it's okay. Hold on, let me get you some water," Leigh said, her relief evident when she appeared over me, the blonde curtain of her hair filtering the overhead lights for a moment before she disappeared again.

She popped back into my line of sight with a Styrofoam cup complete with bendy straw. "Take it slow, okay? You've been out… two days? Maybe three. I'm not sure. Time's a bit squashed together at the moment." She shook her head, then carefully lowered the straw to my lips.

I drank the water down greedily, trying to process what she'd just told me. Two or three days? That wasn't good. As soon as I released the straw and took a steadying breath, I asked again. "Where's Dirge? Is he okay?"

"Uh, yeah. About that. The feral wolf—uh, Dirge—had to be sedated to treat you. The last I heard, they were taking him to a feral cell." She winced at the admission, watching for my reaction.

"A feral cell! Leigh! You have to get me up. I have to see him." I shoved at the heavy pile of blankets weighing me down, letting out a frustrated grunt when my shaking hands barely moved them. I tried again, and again, until Leigh swooped down and captured my hands in hers.

"Shay, you can't get out of bed yet." Her stern tone just pissed me off. She didn't understand. I knew in my bones that a cell would make him worse. To go from living wild to locked up, barely able to move, would be awful for any wolf. But a feral one who'd just found his fated mate? He'd be breaking himself trying to get free.

I knew, because it was exactly what I'd be doing. Snatching my hands away from Leigh, I went back to dislodging the blankets. When I succeeded, she just sighed, then helped me swing my legs around.

"Hang on, let me get your clothes."

I looked down at that and frowned at the realization that I was wearing a hospital gown and could feel the cool air from a nearby open window on my very bare backside now that I was upright. Though I supposed my other clothes were ruined, between the bullet hole and the blood.

Shifters had to learn early not to get too attached to our wardrobes. Sigh.

Leigh helped me into soft leggings and an oversized tee, the outfit finished off with my favorite pair of jingly sneakers. I was still a little bit sore around the bullet entry and exit points, but the more I moved, the more I came back to myself, and nervous energy thrummed through my veins like electricity or the staccato beats of techno-music.

I had to see him, make sure he was okay. Then it was the small matter of getting him out of the freaking cell they'd thrown him into. Uncharacteristic fury rose in me at the thought. I shook my head, trying to shake the rage physically loose.

Getting hotheaded about things wouldn't help me spring him from wolf jail.

Leigh had her arm wrapped around my shoulders, carefully guiding me toward the door, when it flew open, nearly cracking us both on the nose in the process.

"Where is she? I'm going to skin whoever didn't tell me about this alive!" Brielle's furious tirade ground to a halt as soon as she saw me up and on my feet. "Shay! Oh, I'm so glad you're okay! You're not supposed to be up yet, though." She shot Leigh a pointed look for helping me break the rules as she stepped forward to wrap me in a hug. Bri hesitated at the last second. "Is there any way I can hug you without hurting your side?"

I shrugged my left shoulder, careful not to zhuzh the right side, which still ached from the bullet. She moved more slowly, carefully wrapping her arms around my shoulders and giving me a steady but gentle squeeze.

"Now, why are you out of bed? John Henry told me he was recommending two more days of rest. Since he finally got around to telling us this happened!" She shot an angry look over her shoulder, where both Kane and a browbeat John Henry stood in the doorway, watching our reunion.

"She's not supposed to be out of bed," the pack healer grumbled. "And you weren't supposed to be disturbed until seventy-two hours after your mating ceremony. Early interruptions usually end in bloodshed, and we took a vote. It was unanimous that any interruption before you two left the cabin on your own would be seen as a challenge for mating rights."

"I have to go get Dirge. They put him in a feral cell," I insisted, ignoring the hovering males. My hands shook as the awful thought came back to the forefront. I had to get him out of there. Confinement was no place for a wolf .

"A cell? Wait, you want to spring him before he's turned back?" Bri shot a concerned look at Kane, who stayed silent except for one lifted eyebrow, which was very loudly conveying his disapproval of my plans.

"He can't stay in there. Please," I added, not caring if I sounded pathetic.

"You may see him, but he may not leave the cell until we know he's not a danger to any member of the pack, and that includes you."

Kane's words hit me like a ton of bricks. They were laced with an undercurrent of Alpha command, and it felt like someone rubbed their hand the wrong way up my wolf's back. Although… Where was my wolf?

I reached for her but found only silence. I tried again, shutting my eyes and digging deep, but again, there was no familiar tingle of the change starting, no pleasure-pain of her bursting free to go for a run. There was just… emptiness.

Dread climbed up my throat, its sickly fingers holding me frozen in a choke hold.

"M… My wolf," I stuttered, letting my hand float to my neck, as if I could wipe away the dread.

"I know, you think he may be your mate. That is wild . I mean, what are the odds?" Leigh cast a glance at Brielle for backup before continuing. "However, if it's not safe for him to be out?—"

"No, my wolf," I said again, clutching the front of the oversized black tee. There was no fire, no magical light in my chest. Just darkness where my wolf should be.

Leigh sucked in a shocked breath, while Brielle launched into doctor mode. "How high was the dosage of wolfsbane?" She launched the question at John Henry like a torpedo.

"Seven point five ccs," he answered without missing a beat.

"And how long after exposure was the antidote administered? "

"Eight minutes."

"Eight minutes?"

"Give or take about ninety seconds."

"That's not a lethal dosage, but it's close." Bri frowned, her fingers drumming anxiously on her jeans-clad thigh. "You probably just need some time. You went through a major injury, even without the added complication of the wolfsbane. Your small intestine was clipped, and apparently, the bullet missed your ovary by less than half an inch."

I knew I should be grateful that the bullet hadn't mangled my ovary or poisoned me with fecal matter from an intestinal wound. But all that felt insignificant in comparison to being unable to contact my wolf. Without her, I was alone.

Weak.

Vulnerable.

And with a brand-new feral mate, that was the last thing I could afford to be.