Page 2 of The Wolf's Appetite
I reached for my wolf, desperate to bring it back, panicked because I'd never felt anything like this before.
The wounds across my chest and face throbbed with every struggling heartbeat, and the scent and feel of my blood pouring out of me told me I was probably going to die in this battle.
I collapsed onto the ground, my strength waning. My breath came shallow and fast, more like wheezing.
Every exhale felt final.
And as I lay there, broken and soaked in blood, my wolf silent and unreachable, I knew it with bitter certainty.
This was how I would die.
1
LENNOX
The world around me blurred in and out, the shadows stretching long. I was being taken somewhere.
I couldn’t hear anything discernible, couldn't smell anything but blood saturating the air.
Twisted shapes came in and out of focus, reaching out in the corners of my vision. The sharp, acrid stench of metal and antiseptic clung to my nose–a bitter, coppery taste coating my tongue as I tried to adjust my eyes.
But my eyelids were heavy, the muscles in my neck straining as I tried to lift my head.
Voices were talking all around me, but I couldn't make up from down let alone figure out what was being said.
Whatever I lay on was narrow, the soft, light sheet covering me draped lightly over my chest. But even the slight weight of the material pressed down on my chest, the pain unimaginable.
With each shallow breath, a fresh wave of agony radiated from every inch of my body. It pulsed like a second, damaged heartbeat. Every passing minute, my vision became clearer. I started feeling every little thing around me, my senses becoming almost painful.
I felt the sting of fresh stitches pulling at my flesh, the sticky warmth of my own blood seeping out of me and covering my bare flesh. The coppery tang was thick in the back of my throat as I choked down a ragged, gasping breath.
I tried to move my arm, my fingers twitching against the sweat- and blood-soaked sheets. But my limbs felt heavy, filled with lead. My muscles were unresponsive, my bones like steel. The world tilted, the shadows around me growing longer, darker, their edges sharp and jagged.
Pain. That was all I knew. That was all that mattered.
A constant, unrelenting fire burned through my veins, seared my nerves, and left my muscles twitching and spasming beneath my skin.
And my wolf… he was silent. He was gone.
I was on my own.
I felt the broken edges of my ribs scraping against one another, the sharp, white-hot agony like nails driving into my lungs. My vision swam as I gritted my teeth, just wanting to be taken under to unconsciousness, letting the darkness vanish everything present.
And I did drift in and out, the blissful nothingness a sweet reprieve.
“Hold him down?—”
“Gods, he’s tearing the stitches?—”
“Get the sedative?—”
“His heart—he’s going tae tear his own heart apart?—”
I felt the cold, wet press of a cloth against my forehead, the rough, calloused touch of someone’s hand on my chest. And then the sharp sting of a needle slipping into the muscle of my arm.
I gasped, my back arching against the thin mattress, my teeth grinding together as the fire spread, the pain flaring bright and sharp, my bones vibrating with the force of it.
When my consciousness slipped again, the shadows closing in, the world tilting, I welcomed it, but before it dragged me under, I caught a glimpse of something—someone—moving through the haze.
