Then a thought pierced through to my consciousness, why would the gray wolf still fight for its dinner when it was now obviously outclassed? This was its alpha. Grandma’s paintings of a gray wolf flashed through my mind, and I finally understood. This wolf wasn’t fighting for dinner, she was fighting for her child.
My eyes sprang open, and I gasped, “Mother.”
The gray wolf’s ear flicked in my direction and released a small whimper, but she didn’t move her eyes from Beast.
Beast shifted his stance and my mother crouched, ready to intercept his teeth in order to protect me. A fierceness exploded through my insides. I couldn’t let her die for me. Not after I’d waited a lifetime for her to return.
“No!” I cried, pushing through the pain that clouded my mind. I gripped the wood holding the porch railing up. Jolts rocketed through my bones from the movement. But I was determined. I struggled to pull myself to standing. The metallic taste of blood oozed slowly into my mouth, and I released my cut lower lip from the clutches of my teeth, successfully holding in my screams.
Beast’s ice-blue eyes watched me. My trembling was uncontrollable, and dizziness flooded my senses. I knew I was fading fast, but I had to try—for me, for Beast, for my mother.
“Remember, Beast. Fight—for me, please!” I wheezed out as much of a yell as I could.
Baring his teeth again, Beast growled at my interruption, but before he turned back to the gray wolf, I saw a tiny flicker of caramel flash through them.
He was gaining control!
As he stalked toward my mother, ready to sink his teeth into her furry neck, growls ripped from the other wolves’ throats in anticipation, but instead of ripping out her throat, he twisted to the side to confront the pack.
Beast snarled loudly, causing my ears to ring. My vision rippled, and I sagged to the earth, vomiting on the stairs. My head pounded, but I forced my eyes to open into slits. Beast commanded respect that cowed the others from challenging him further. He and the gray wolf backed slowly up to the porch, guarding me. I tried to move, but my body refused, blood loss taking away my control.
A gray head nuzzled my arm impatiently. I struggled to hold onto my mother’s neck as she pulled me up the stairs. My body thumped up each step, sending black bursts through my vision. Beast helped by pushing me with his butt, while keeping his pack at bay. On the third push and pull, my brutally torn up leg smacked the stair. I half screamed, half gasped as lightning jolted up my leg and spine. The hand I had around my mother’s neck flew toward my leg in an attempt to stop the racking pain. At the same moment, Beast growled and snapped at me. His large, canine tooth grazed the tip of my finger like a deep paper cut. A single drop of scarlet blood swelled on the tip of my index finger, tinted in a yellowish glow.
Immediately, liquid fire burned down my finger, entering my blood. Startled, I gawked at the small wound, like it was the bleeding gash in my leg. I felt darkness blocking my vision and shook my head to clear it. The fire died to a low warmth as it traveled the whole course of my body, tickling me.
I giggled. My world swirled intoxicatingly before me. Beast’s wolf eyes flickered with fury. He looked so silly with his eyes crunched together as if cross-eyed, that bursts of laughter shook my body. The sudden motion sent a small bead of blood to the darkened earth at the base of the stairs. A thunderous snarl erupted between Beast’s clenched teeth.
The gray wolf clutched my shirt in her teeth and tugged my uncooperative body up the steps, jarring my leg again. Pain lanced through my body like hot lava and I screamed again, my head clearing briefly from my delirium. She pulled me to the sliding doors and clawed it open before dragging me to the kitchen rug by the fridge.
A fray of snarls and growls filled the air and my mother bolted out the door, kicking it closed. I was safe from the wolves, but the crimson trail streaked the tile ending in a sticky puddle of blood beneath me. Somewhere in my pain-fogged mind, Aunt Lily’s first aid training clicked into place. I heard her talking in my head.
Tayla, you need to staunch the wound before you lose too much blood. Find something to tie it with and elevate it above your heart.
The cabinets were bathed in shadows and the dull silvery light of the moon leeched the color from the otherwise whimsical kitchen. The drawer holding the dish towels was several feet away. I reached up, but my arm flopped back lifelessly, slapping my thigh. I pinched my eyes shut against the fresh pain. With no option left, I struggled out of my cotton shirt and cinched it directly over the wound. I cried out in anguish and laid back against the rug. I propped the wounded leg on top of the other one, making the weight of my leg be the pressure on the injury. My vision swirled, tears blurring what was left of my sight. Soon, darkness blanketed my eyes in sleep.
CHAPTER 31—Naked Arms
Monday, April 9
Groggily, my eyes peeled open to the soft hues of sunlight. I lifted my head, and an explosion like brass cymbals crashed from lobe to lobe, forcing my head back to the rug. I looked out the window. The lighting was all wrong for the usually bright and cheerful sunrise. Laying my head back on the rug, I looked out the window one more time. The sky was blood-red swirled with canary-yellow like the last ember of a dying fire.
Night? Was it almost night, again?
My body was unnaturally warm, as if lit by an inner fire. Ringing filled my ears with the swish of blood pumping through my veins. I uncurled my stiff body from its fetal position on the thin rug and instantly regretted it. Lightning ripped through my flesh. I whimpered, curling into myself again and cradling my wounded finger to my shirtless chest while my other hand held my injured leg.
Sweat dewed on my pounding forehead, and my stomach churned with fear. Parts of The Legend of the Beast haunted my thoughts and every Hollywood version of werewolves swam through my head. Was I going to die slowly and painfully as poison crept through my veins? Or would I endure the torture of changing into one of them? I shuddered, remembering the searing fire that ripped through my body every time Beast changed. Both options were filled with horrific pain. How had everything gone so wrong?
Pain pierced my body, and I jerked. My back arched at an unnatural angle, before I slumped to the floor. A fiery hell pounded through my body like I was being stabbed with hot irons. I screamed, but it came out choked and airy. My flesh felt slashed from end to end and my bones ground into powder. I whimpered through the assault of Beast’s change, feeling my very soul tugged from my body. The face of my family flashed through my mind, my last glimpses of this life.
I struggled for air.
Sorrow pressed on my chest with the weight of an anvil. I had failed, and now death would claim me, stealing any chance at redemption. My skin tingled, vibrating through every cell until it reached my core. Black starbursts clouded my vision before I felt my soul slowly slipping away.
Everything was cold and still.
No pain—I didn’t feel anything.
Suddenly, my eyes ripped open. I blinked, but the white around me stayed in place, like I’d fallen into a huge marshmallow. But it wasn’t sweet, it was empty—a nightmare. Frantically, I twirled around, raking my fingers through the air, desperate to feel something solid, to have my hand smack against a wall, to feel the sting from the impact. But the sting never came. I sucked in the rapidly thinning air. I squeezed my eyes shut and held my head. Or I thought I was. I couldn’t even feel the strands of my hair. Was nothing real anymore?
“Tayla.”
I held my breath. The voice was so familiar. My head whipped up, and a jolt zinged through my heart.
“Dad?” I asked with uncertainty.
Uncle Stan’s gentle eyes crinkled and a smile pulled at his lips. “My little girl.”
I ran into his open arms. “Dad!”
I sobbed into his flannel covered chest. His strong arms held me close, warming me with his love. I’d almost forgotten what it felt like to have him hold me, and the tears from all I’d lost rolled down my face.
“Sh
h.” He stroked my hair.
“I’ve missed you so much. But how…where are we?” I stared up at him with blurry eyes.
“Tay,” he whispered my name, while wiping at my cheek. “You don’t have much time left. You need to make a choice. I wish I had more time to explain. Is this what you want?”
He waved his hand and the white mass wafted away, like parting a curtain. I was again in Beast’s kitchen. The once pristine floor was caked in dried blood. My eyes followed the trail, dread knotting around my failing heart. That’s why Uncle Stan was here, I was dying—or already dead.
I wanted to turn away, not look, but I couldn’t help myself. My eyes followed the trail until it stopped in a pool of fresh blood. Beast hunched over my lifeless body breathing air back into my lungs before pounding on my chest. I watched in horror, as he continued the process over and over again.
“Breathe!” Beast’s hoarse voice cried out. “You’re not going to die on me, you stubborn girl. Breathe!”
Beast thrust the palm of his hand into my chest repetitively, willing me to breathe. But my blue lips never parted, and my pale eyelids never blinked.
Uncle Stan squeezed me into his side. “Tay, are you truly done with this earth life?”
Was I?
I didn’t want the pain anymore. If life was endless suffering and unquenchable heartache, then yes, I had given up on life. It was too much. And Uncle Stan was here. I wanted to stay, to keep this peace. But Beast’s voice kept shattering through my thoughts.
“Fight!” He breathed air into my lungs, and a tear dropped from his face onto my pale cheek. “Please, Tayla, fight. I…”
His sob wrenched my heart.
“I can’t watch this.” I turned from it, focusing on Uncle Stan.
“Do not fear living, Tayla.” Uncle Stan’s hand lifted my chin to look me in the eye.
“But I’m a failure.” My lips quivered. “I couldn’t make Mom better. And the girls don’t want me anymore.” I hiccupped a sob. “And Rose—my real mother—is a wolf. Everything is wrong. What is left to live for?”
His hand fell from my chin to my shoulder. “Sometimes life tosses us on the waves of uncertainty, but you are strong, Tayla. Find the strength I know is in you, and you will crest the next wave.”
“But what if I fail again? What if I hurt more people?” I shook with the emotions battling inside.
“How many people can you touch with your love? How many lives can you save by lending your strength to a drowning soul? Even a soul like his?”
My heart thumped hard once in my still chest as Beast continued CPR. In that moment, I knew it was time to make a choice. Or my choice was going to be made for me.
I looked back at the scene once again and gazed at Beast. His face was hard with determination, and his usually warm eyes were hollow, like a man who had nothing left to live for. How many times had he wanted to die? Watching girl after girl die for nothing or changed against her will. And yet he was brave enough to live.
An ounce of courage trickled into my system.
Then flashes of the gray wolf, my mother and protector, popped into my mind. She’d fought to preserve my life, knowing the cost could be her own. A fire lit inside of me. A determination to brave life, knowing I’d make mistakes, and they would hurt, but I would be courageous enough to face them. To live and take the good with the bad. I wouldn’t die for nothing. If death was to come in the near future, I’d go out fighting.
I threw my arms around Uncle Stan. “I’m going to miss you so much.” I squeezed with all the strength I possessed.
“I’m never far, my precious girl.” He kissed the top of my head. “I am always watching, and I’m a proud father.”
His solid frame dissipated like clouds in a breeze, and my arms dropped. The mist faded and I found I was standing next to Beast, almost close enough to touch. I wasn’t quite sure how to get my soul back into my body, but I’d seen enough movies to try. I stopped at the edge of my body where Beast labored to keep my heart beating. With a big gulp of air, I lowered myself back into my pain racked body.
A choked scream ripped from my throat as my soul reconnected with my body.
“Tay,” he gasped, using my nickname for the first time. His golden-brown eyes lit with intense relief. A warm flutter bounced around my rumbling abdomen from the concern in his honey eyes. The feeling was sharply pushed aside by the throb thundering though my flesh, and I dry heaved. I may have been breathing on my own, but I was a long way from okay.
Bare, muscular arms encircled me, and he lifted me from the floor. My cheeks flushed, feeling his naked chest against mine. His touch soothed away some of the pain, and I was suddenly self-conscious of our closeness, but had no strength to protest. Deep down I didn’t want to. He was part of the reason I’d chosen to keep this life. And that realization alone made my head swim with possibilities.
I rested my head on his warm chest. Instantly, it felt like a healing balm was rubbed over it, the incessant throbbing replaced by the steady thump of his heart, and for the first time since the attack, I felt my mind clear, like his physical contact soothed me, fully reconnecting my soul to my body with a whoosh. Life wasn’t easy, but being in his arms and drawing from his strength, I knew I could do this. Uncle Stan was right; I had more life to live. However long or short it might be.
Gazing up at the stubble on his chin, I was enveloped by the essence of him. I saw things I’d never noticed before. My lungs swelled with the alluring deep woodland musk rolling off his bare chest, like he’d rolled in pine needles and mossy soil. The hard muscles of his arms were taut as he carried me effortlessly out of the kitchen, but he acted as though I weighed no more than a leaf.
Beast entered his study and opened the curious door I’d noticed right before I stupidly raced outside. Dusk settled over his bedroom, filling it with dark shadows. A faint outline of a large bed occupied the wall farthest from me. He didn’t stop to flip on a light, but strode confidently to yet another door on the side wall of his room.
As we entered, he quickly illuminated the room with a flick of his hand. Two large, marble-textured light fixtures extinguished all night from the room. I pinched my eyes shut and burrowed into Beast’s chest to hide from the sudden change in lighting. When my eyes adjusted a few seconds later, I surveyed the master bathroom that was twice the size of mine upstairs. It sported two handcrafted, ivory sinks embedded in a marbled granite countertop that shone with a polished luster. A massive, gilded mirror stretched the length of the countertop and touched the ceiling, reflecting the image of a pale, dirty girl in the arms of a robust and hairy man.
After walking over to the large garden tub, Beast gently placed me on the plush, midnight black rug. A glass shower stood next to the tub. Beyond that was an open, six paneled pocket door, revealing a porcelain toilet. I turned my head at the sound of rushing water. Beast held his hand under the running tub spout, testing the temperature.
Silently, I watched him gather the supplies from around the room: several towels, a first aid kit, scissors, and a jumble of other things. Unloading his arms, he picked up the scissors.
“I have to cut off your jeans.”
My eyes widened with horror, but I couldn’t speak.
“I’m sorry, but your wound needs to be cleaned.”
My stomach clenched at the thought of being so naked before Beast. I swallowed the panic bubbling up my throat and inhaled deeply.
I’m sure he’s seen girls in bikinis before, I thought, trying to make myself feel better. But it only took the edge off my unease. It wasn’t a bikini he was going to see me in, but my underwear. It was much too intimate a situation than I could deal with right now. I knew I was being superficial. I’d just had a near death experience, but I couldn’t help it. I guess almost dying didn’t rid me of old habits.
Beast leaned forward and brought the scissors closer to my leg. I had to distract him if I wanted to keep my pants on. I grunted, lifting my trembling finger so close to
his face that his eyes crossed for a moment.
He softly brushed my finger away, his eyes finding mine. His full lips parted and for a split-second, I wondered if his lips would taste as good as he smelled. Then, I suddenly realized his lips had already been on mine in a life-saving gesture. For a moment, I wished I’d been able to feel it. Man, I sounded shallow, but my heart thumped lively in my ears. Wasn’t that what living was about? Experiencing life. Taking risks?
“I can’t do anything about your finger.” He dropped his sad eyes to the orange handled scissors.
My brows furrowed, and thoughts of kissing him floated from my mind. My finger pulsed, as if taunting me with the terrifying unknown. He couldn’t fix it? My mind relived the hot, searing pain that exploded the moment his tooth cut my skin. Suddenly, I had to know.
“What did you do to me?” I coughed out the words, staring at the small paper-cut-like wound on my finger.
“Tay…” He pleaded not to answer. “You’re exhausted. I need to clean you up so you can rest.”
I shook my head, and instantly regretted it, as nerves spiked in pain. His hands cradled my head like he was willing the pain away. “Try not to move.”
The impulse to roll my eyes was strong, but I was afraid of causing more pain, so I focused on getting my answer.
“Please, I need to know.” My voice was like gravel on my vocal chords.
His hands left my head and he shook his own with such finality that my temper flared out of control, giving me a burst of strength.
“You’re telling me no,” I shouted incredulously, but it came out more like a croak. His cool eyes flicked up to mine, flashing silver for only a moment. My throat hurt, but anger swelled in me like a tidal wave I couldn’t stop. “I almost died!”
Curse of the Beast Page 24