30. Connor O’Doyle

Chapter 30

Connor O’Doyle

Embrace the inner howl life .

My phone screen lights up brightly, and I practically have to squint against the glare as I type each letter.

Me:

When Aubrey is on her period, what do you do?

I shoot off the text and watch as it registers as delivered, instantly wondering if I’m making a huge mistake, but he’s the only person I know with first-hand knowledge of having a mate. My anxiety has reached new and interesting heights in the last two days, and since the night I turned Whitley, I’ve been shirking as many duties as I can to be near her.

I glance out the dim window, noticing the sun dropping beyond the horizon and sigh heavily, relaxing for what feels like the first time in days.

Avoiding my phone has been easy for the most part, as I’ve been forwarding my calls to Allan, but that doesn’t stop Vlad. The number of videos he sends of himself sunbathing with dollops of sunscreen on his nose grows daily. His hair-covered chest is so pale it’s like looking at a reflective whiteboard against the sand, and even through the phone I find his glow eye-piercing. Whoever thinks it’s a great idea for a vampire to go lie in the sun like a lizard is foolish. This alone is enough to reveal he’s inhuman.

Jekyll giving his wretched sunscreen concoction to Vlad may have been a bad idea.

It’s possible the idiot has some kind of useful information, and incidentally, he’s the only I can ask.

Vlad:

What?

Me:

What makes her more comfortable when she’s on her period? I don’t have time to fuck with you, ancient one.

And what movie does she watch?

Vlad:

What significance does that have? Why the fuck do you want to know?

Me:

Just answer the bloody question, you old geezer.

I watch as the little texting bubble pops up, letting me know he’s responding. He’s so bloody slow, the man is new to any kind of technology, and what can only be thirty minutes passes before I finally get an answer.

Vlad:

Aubrey wanted chocolate and now that you mention it, we just watched Clueless and then 10 Things I Hate About You in that order. She cried afterwards strangely enough, but she was back to normal after the fourth day from when the event started. Why does she do that?

Tampons are another insane human invention. I never know whether to get the left or right.

I frown at that. There’s left and a right? That... doesn’t make sense.

Vlad:

Why do you ask?

A cursory Google search says much of the same. Back rubs, chocolate, cuddles, and even relaxing movies were mentioned, but Vlad is the only being I know with a mate.

Excitement floods me at the thought that I can actually be a help, but pain killers and heating pads were also brought up. I stare at the table in my study with all manner of period help at my disposal, more than a little thrilled to have more ways to help Whitley through this. The way her forehead wrinkles in pain makes me wish I could take it for her, and all the ladies of Reddit seem to agree at least on one thing.

Periods are a straight cunt.

And my girl is about to have her first as a shifter. I breathe in heavily through my nose and exhale out my mouth. Any way that I can help Whitley through this, I am willing. The idea of comforting her brings peace and a sense of calm I’ve never experienced.

Vlad:

Hello?

Why do you ask? mad face emoji

Oh, for fuck’s sake. He’s using emojis now? I smirk and swipe to the internet app, intent on looking up what dosage of pain killers could reasonably work for our kind.

The phone pings again.

Vlad:

OMGGGGGG who is it? Is it Whitley? OMG I knew it!!!

My brow furrows a moment before I realize Aubrey has most likely taken his phone, effectively interrupting my attempt to fuck with him a little longer. Grinning at the knowledge that Vlad is more than likely sulking like a toddler right now makes my lips twitch. I shoot a quick text back to his mobile.

Me:

Hello Aubrey.

Vlad:

Hey Doyle! hug emoji Is Whitley okay?

Oh men are freaking hopeless. It’s R for regular and L for light btw. facepalm emoji

I grin down at my phone. I haven’t really thought on the ramifications of Vlad and her mating, but my gut tells me that I have accepted her as a sort of packmate, or whatever would have the same significance, I suppose.

Me:

She’s fine. We have mated.

Vlad:

What??! excited gif

The phone rings just as a wounded howl rings out that sends chills up my spine. Whitley.

Thank fuck no one else in the castle could have heard her. Odette might be a witch, but she doesn’t have supernatural hearing, and everyone else is human. I thank my lucky stars that she’s in our wing and not below stairs. Gods, I’m already thinking of it as ours and not just mine.

I run from the study and speed down the hall to the foyer, leaping into the air, adrenaline surging through my veins just as another cry begins.

Allan has the guests downstairs for the rest of the evening playing charades and Clue in the library, so the odds of me meeting anyone are slim at least.

My claws extend as I grab for purchase two floors above me and take hold of a wooden balustrade as I vault myself up another floor, being as quiet as I can. Hurtling over the final railing, I land in the hall of the north wing, scrambling for her bedroom door, not caring now that I’m sure no one below can hear.

“What’s wrong?” I yell, as another keening wail from her has my stomach dropping with worry. I have no idea why she has suddenly become so distressed, and it has my hackles rising.

I find her in her bathroom after practically tearing the door from the hinges to get to her.

“Whitley?”

“I can’t have chocolate! I can’t have coffee! These fucking painkillers aren’t doing shit, and it feels like my insides are being ripped apart!” Her voice is a half-wail, half-roar, and I blink, unsure of what to do. “Ugh! This is just torture.”

I glance around at the bathroom painted in the same muted tones as my bedroom with soft blues and grays—it just lacks the massive tub I had outfitted for my large frame.

Whitley’s hair sticks out at odd angles, like she’s put her finger into an electrical socket, while fur grows over her arms before she manages to push back the change. Her eyes are puffy and red-rimmed. She leans against the sink, wiping at her eyes with a Kleenex.

“You can have cupcakes and chocolate; you’ll just need to run afterwards if that’s what you want.” I walk in the room slowly, my hands down at my sides in an unthreatening manner, unsure of what to do.

“I have never had cramps like this in my life,” she growls, and yellow flashes in her eyes. “Actually, half the time I can’t even feel them. This is all your fault!”

I wish I could be of assistance, but as a male and an out-of-the-norm shifter, I’m useless in this situation. I don’t know how to stop her from shifting uncontrollably, nor how to alleviate her pain or temper.

She also has every right to blame me, although I never intended for this to happen.

She crumples, and I catch her in my arms, my heart thumping a little faster at how she clings to my shoulders.

“This sucks,” she says with a whimper, so I rub soothing circles across her back.

My mind scrambles with what I should do to make her more comfortable, and I pat harder as she howls into my chest with big, racking sobs. She may not like it, but it’s plain to me she needs a good run. Too much energy in one of our kind can have adverse effects, and its perfect timing with how late it is—most of the guests will be in bed by this time anyhow.

I squeeze her waist. “Let’s change into some comfy clothes and go for a picnic. There’s something else I want to show you,” I tell her, wishing I would have remembered to grab my supplies.

“A picnic in the dark? Are you insane?”

“You can see clearly in pitch black,” I remind her.

It’s the only reason I even offer for her to go outside, since she can’t completely control her shift right now. I think the fresh air will do her some good and might help distract her.

I know the last two days have been a lot; hell, this entire situation has been from the start. I never knew females of my kind had to go through such a change during their first transition. I thought my own was challenging, but it does bring me comfort to know she has someone to lean on.

The best I had was Vlad, and I would have rather had Nurse Ratched than his grouchy ass.

I wrap my hand around her nape, hoping the coolness of my palm eases her.

It must be quite the whiplash, my aggression when she arrived, and now I would do just about anything for this woman—anything.

“I’m sorry that I’m an idiot and didn’t realize you were my mate the moment you stepped foot in the castle.” I cup the soft skin of her cheek, and stare into the amber-colored depths of her eyes, noticing how yellow rims her iris when her expression turns vulnerable. “At least let me make it up to you where I can? I promise no one will see us.”

“Okay,” she breathes against my neck, making goosebumps spread along my arms.

My lips curve upward, and I press a kiss to her temple and then her button nose. “Get changed and I will pack us some snacks.”

She rears back, eyes wide, her excitement evident like I’ve just said the magic word to make her hidden-away ears perk up like a puppy. “Snacks?”