Page 51 of Wicked

“Yes. Throwing up isn’t so bad.” I do it again once we’re rolled outside and the alphas lift the stretcher off the ground to go down the stairs. I accidentally cover one of the guy’s shoes with more of Manny’s pancakes.

“That doesn’t smell too good. I think I need to lie down.”

Except I think we’re already lying down on the stretcher. When did that happen?

“I’m confused, Manny. Can we lie down more? The world is spinning like a merry-go-round, which is fun, but I think that guy doesn’t like your pancakes on his shoes after they’ve been in my stomach.”

Deep voices speak around us. I don’t know what they’re saying anymore. It’s just spin, spin, spin. I’m on a fun roller coaster or I might be flying in the air with Anne.

“The necklace can’t override his body’s physical reaction to the move.” Manny is talking now. He’s so handsome and wonderful.

“I would like your knot now,” I say.

“Soon. David and Lester are going to lift you into the limo. I’ll be here the whole time.”

Manny is no longer holding me. Why is Manny no longer holding me? I laugh and laugh and laugh. Manny is gone, and I am not sad. Why am I not sad?

I should be sad.

Manny’s pancakes are suddenly all over David’s face. He staggers backwards, and I come with him. I think he’s trying to carry me, but I can’t be sure. I’m still spinning and laughing. There are tiny men in rainbow suits dancing in circles around my head.

“You have to take that necklace off. It’s making him hysterical.”

“But he’ll panic.” That’s my Manny. He’s still here. The tiny men all have Manny’s face now and taco-cat pants. I can’t stop laughing. They are too funny.

Suddenly, the tiny men disappear, and a gut-wrenching agony tears through me as the weight of the necklace is gone.

“Manny! Manny!” I scream, as the terror consumes me. I don’t know where I am anymore. I can’t see anything except the black interior of a limousine where I am utterly alone.

Then Manny’s arms wrap around me and squeeze me tight.

“Get another blanket for us. This one is covered in vomit,” Manny says, stripping our warmth away. We are naked and cold inside someone else’s car. I start trembling, and I can’t stop.

“Manny, please help me.”

He strokes my stomach, kissing my neck and shoulders. I am still shaking. I don’t think we are safe.

“We are going to die. Someone is going to kill us! Dorian told them. He told them.”

Manny starts singing. It’s an old song with a solid rhythm that stops the spinning. A warm darkness descends on us, along with more voices. Manny keeps singing as they talk, and I latch onto his voice.

He said he would make me his. He promised.

The rest of it doesn’t matter.

19

Manny

Candlewick is despondent as the limo speeds toward the sanctuary. He’s stopped producing slick, and he won’t drink water. The only thing that seems to help is an old hymn my omega father used to sing to me when I was sick. I wonder if this was the right choice—if I’m doing Candlewick more harm than good.

But we have to try. Candlewick is my person, and I’m not giving him up without a fight.

Lester keeps offering him water and David is massaging his feet. Rope is on the phone with the sanctuary and giving them updates as we drive. Candlewick throws up two more times before we pull into the parking lot in the back of the sanctuary.

We have to move him again. The last time was a disaster. What can I do to make this time easier?

After red wolf shifters bond, it’s customary for them to shift in front of one another and cuddle in their wolf form. It’s too risky for Candlewick to shift right now, but maybe it would help if he could feel my fur and take in the scent of my animal form.

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