Page 33 of Targeted By Fate

The dreams I had during this time were wild. I dreamed of standing by Boaz’s side in the club that night and watching him take out that asshole. And the weirdest part was—I liked it. Like there was pride in that piece of shit being expunged from this planet… destroyed.

I blamed the drugs for that dream, because my brain didn’t work that way.

Except… what if it did? What if this was who I was now? What if I was irrevocably changed now that I was mated into the mob? This wasn’t the first time I’d experienced such violence, nor was it the first time I did so drugged. That had to mess with a shifter.

I also dreamed of floating on the river. I was in my fur and on a little raft, the kind you tried to make as a kid with sticks in the backyard that you were sure would really hold you up but never did. Only in my dream, the raft did hold me up, and I floated along with little rainbows sparkling around, like the kind that a prism would make in a window.

I didn’t even try to make sense of this dream. My cat didn’t love water. I had long since outgrown trying to make a raft. And why would there be prisms in the trees? Instead, when I woke up, I snuggled into my mate, feeling like I was almost ready to get up. His arms held me close as I drifted off again.

The next dream I remembered was a full-fledged nightmare—but it wasn’t about the mafia. It wasn’t about being drugged. It wasn’t even about zombies. Nope. It was much worse than that. It was about job hunting.

I was attempting to get a job as an accountant and going through 52 interviews for the same position, all of which included a math test. And I did not know enough about accounting to know if you even needed a math test, but apparently, I was just doing test after test after test. And when I woke up, I found myself sitting right up straight—and I was finally fully awake.

“Hey, you’re up.” Boaz’s sweet voice, the one he reserved for me, surrounded me like a hug.

“Yeah, I’m up-up.” As opposed to when I padded to the bathroom or drank something my mate gave me as I stirred. This was wide awake, awake.

“How you feeling?”

“I don’t know. I had weird dreams, and I’m still tired, but my head isn’t spinning, so that’s good.”

“Do you need help to the bathroom?” he offered, and I thought back to that first night when I’d been in my fur and so embarrassed about having to pee. So much had changed. I didn’t need help, but I’d have accepted it, for sure.

“Nah, I got it.”

Not only did I have to pee, but my mouth tasted like I had eaten from the bottom of the dumpster I had hid behind the day I met my mate.

I brushed my teeth, took a shower, and when I came out, Boaz had a cup of coffee in his hand for me. “You probably need this.”

“Oh, so much.” I brought it to my lips and tipped it back, the liquid barely touching my tongue when I realized I wanted no part of it.

“I guess I’m still not doing well.” I pushed it back at him. “Sorry.”

“No sorry needed.” He took the mug from me. “Let’s go eat.”

“Yeah, okay. Just a minute.” I pulled on some pajama pants and a shirt, and the two of us went to the kitchen, where he fried up some bacon, some toast, and eggs. It was hardly a fancy meal, but it was good—at least the first few bites. But then my stomach started getting queasy.

“Maybe it’s too soon to eat.” I set my toast down.

“No,” Boaz said. “The doctor said you’d be fine to eat, and you’ve been having a little bit of soup.”

Soup? Was that what I’d been drinking? That was how much I’d been out of it.

“I think I don’t feel so good. I’m going to—” And then not feeling so good turned to a race to the bathroom, where I lost every bit of the breakfast my mate had given me. Once again, I was brushing my teeth, and this time, I just climbed right back in bed.

“I’ll try again tomorrow.” I yanked the covers up. “I just need more sleep.

“Maybe shift?” My mate sat on the bed beside me, put his hand to my forehead like a parent checking their child’s temperature.

“No, I’m not that kind of sick. And I’m scared to shift,” I admitted. “Last time… last time I couldn’t shift back.”

“This isn’t like last time, Kitten. So try not to worry too much about that.” He was right there. Last time was a fight-or-flight response. This would be me attempting to heal. The two were not the same.

“Yeah. Okay.” I climbed out of bed, pulled my jams off, and called forth my fur. My cat landed on all fours with a thump, Boaz looking down at me. I rubbed against his leg, purring. He liked it when I did that.

“See? That’s better.” He scooped me up. “Now, let me cuddle you. I missed you like this.”

I jumped from his arms onto the bed, curled up on his pillow, and he climbed in beside me.

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