Awakening: Book 1

by L. T. Marshall

  Deacon blanks me completely, waves a dismissive hand at me like he has the last word and leaves. Stalking back the way we came, like an arrogant shit head who needs to go choke.

  I honestly cannot stand that guy and if I could turn, god, he would be first on my hitlist for being air punched across the room. I have enough rage bubbling through my veins to ignite it, but unfortunately, no actual ability in this weird futuristic building. All I need is an ounce of use to link Colton, tell him where his mom is, and bust everyone’s ass in here. I have enough rage that I think I could, maybe. I just wish I’d been bright enough to find and use that gift when they chased me through the damn forest. I only have myself to blame for not being able to harness my own fate given gift.

  As soon as I watch him storm off into the elevator and completely disappear, I turn my attention back to the room across the floor from me and focus on that lifeless sleeping body. She’s twenty feet away at the least, maybe more, but these glass walls, although thick, don’t keep the sound out. The low beep, beep, and swoosh, of her life support is humming and repeating subtly in the air around us now that asshole has gone, and the place is almost silent once more. I lean forward until my palms touch the glass, only this time softly, and press my forehead to it so I can steady my still pretty weak self and stare at the side profile of the figure laid out over there. Instantly enveloped in a feeling of hopelessness as I watch her lifeless form.

  She’s been down here like this for god knows how many years, and I can’t believe Juan would do this to his own mate. It’s like he just put her aside, and forgot about her, and the only reason she’s even alive is because their link would kill him if he let her die. So, this is what he does. Breaking the bonds and rules of being mated. He’s not protecting her or caring for her in sickness and health. He isn’t allowing the pack to nurture their Luna the way they’re meant to. He’s ashamed and hiding her in a place no one knows about. There’s no dignity in what they’ve done to her, and the doctor slipped out and made it clear there’s nothing wrong with her mind. Juan obviously has other reasons for keeping her down here if madness is not it, and I will her to give me some sort of sign that she knows I’m here.

  “Hey…… Luna Sierra, can you hear me?!” I yell as loud as I can, hurting my throat in the process with scratchy rawness, but it doesn’t elicit any response, not even a change in heart rate on one of her many machines. I watch carefully, listen to the sounds, but there’s nothing. “Can you hear me?” I try again, not as loud, but my throat aches with the effort and I cough drily, giving up on that method quickly.

  I sigh, sliding down the glass and watch her desperately, trying to figure out how someone in a building that blocks gifts, in an induced coma, could somehow reach out to me and guide me to her with the weird dreams and urges to come east. It doesn’t make sense now that I see her and know she can’t call to me. In fact, she doesn’t seem like she can do very much of anything at all, except maybe breath on her own as she doesn’t have any kind of ventilator over there. She didn’t urge me here, there’s simply no way in hell it could have been her. She’s all but a vegetable down here.

  The only answer I can think of is maybe the fates did this instead, and it wasn’t her at all, but I guess I’m not about to find out. If I thought she had answers, then it’s pretty clear she won’t be giving me them and this is a dead end. The fates delivered me back to Juan for absolutely nothing. And when he gets here, knowing I found this place and saw her like this, he isn’t going to let me get back anywhere near Colton ever again.

  I hate being stuck in human form and completely powerless to even get out of this dumb glass. Everything in here is bolted down, probably because they don’t want prisoners throwing things at the window, and I am not about to kill myself by hurtling my own body through it to see if it breaks. Without being able to turn, I would probably bleed to death, being that unlucky girl who brought down a shard over my neck or something, and still be stuck down here. A shriveled empty corpse to stink the place up.

  That jerk didn’t even let me eat like he said and my stomach growls angrily at the lack of having food since god knows when. I don’t even know what time it is, morning or night, or how long I was sedated in that room considering there are no windows underground. I last ate in the day before sleeping in that damn tree, where all my possessions are, and I’m starving. It’s no wonder I feel weak and shaky. I’m running on empty.

  It’s weird but maybe it’s my years of being bossed around, held captive in a less than caring home, and treated like a reject at the hands of my so-called pack, but I’m not even afraid anymore. Being here held captive, I know that the worst will come with Juan, but even then, what’s he going to do to me? He can’t kill me or inflict too much pain, because his son will bear the brunt, and lord knows his legacy is always at the center of everything. He could do what he’s done to Sierra, I guess, but it’s not like she seems aware of anything and maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing. No longer tied to Colton, carrying this burden of heartache while he lives his life with that ‘skanky Puta’, maybe a long sleep will be better than stuck in a glass box for a lifetime.

  I abandon the glass and get up to walk across the cold concrete floor on shaking legs. I need to lay down and finally get rid of the rest of this drug in my blood, so I can at least walk around normally and not feel like I’m on new-born legs. Maybe I’ll feel better if I take some time to let it work out and sleep off the rest of it. My body is shaking internally, and I keep having minor bouts of dizziness which remind me I’m in no state to take on the likes of Deacon if I ever get a chance. My first goal before I leave this place, is to knee him in the balls, for shooting me in the back like a coward.

  I don’t get to the bed before the noise of the elevator whooshing open sways this way and I instantly stiffen, expecting Deacon to come back and grace me with his toxic personality and mentally try to figure out the likelihood of being able to kick him between the legs for the sake of it. I climb on the bed, turn around and sit with my legs dangling off the edge in readiness to give him more attitude and lure him inside to my perfect level of height, as I hear footsteps, and a lot of squeaking noises of wheels rolling across the hard floor, coming my way.

  It’s not Deacon, it’s the doctor, and a female in a white lab coat too, and I frown as he appears in front of the glass door pulling the food cart and carrying a bag in his other hand, while she pushes another behind him. He waves at me before accessing the door and slides it open with a smile.

  “My dear, we never fed you, and I couldn’t let you go hungry down here in this inhospitable nightmare of a place. I brought you some clothes. They’re nothing fancy, just the smallest size from the supply closet that I could find and a fetching shade of military grey.” He pushes the trolley inside, the sudden smell of food filling the air, and my mouth starts to water with the reminder I’m near famished. He drops the bag just inside the door but hesitates about coming in, and I sit here waiting patiently. His female companion stays back, arranging some medial implements on a tray on top of her own trolley and avoids looking my way completely. She’s young, maybe early twenties, and looks very white girl, medical student, human. Blonde, blue eyed, so definitely not a Santo.

  “Thank you.” It’s a genuine response because this gown is not exactly great at hiding things, or offering comfort, and maybe eating will help straighten me out a little. In human form I’m suffering from the effects of not eating and probably have a low blood sugar to boot. The female seems interested in me but keeps her distance, and it’s not hard to tell that my kind make her nervous. She pushes the trolley to near him and then turns and walks away without a word.

  “It’s nothing too adventurous, just a chicken salad and bread. The cook is normally quite wonderful with our hot foods, but you were an in between meal visitor. It won’t be long before lunch is served and it’ll be something hot, like it always is. I believe today is carrot and coriander soup, followed by a delightful steak tartar. Fabul
ous talented chef and we are most grateful to have one here.“ Despite his overly friendly chatter and enthusiasm over food, he seems awkward now that we are down here and I catch him throw a glance over his shoulder at our sleeping beauty, watching our departed medical student walk into her room and check on the equipment and levels. The door closing behind her quickly and dampening the noise back to a low hum that intensified when she opened it. I catch the doctor pause for a second longer, before a slight sag gives away a little tell.

  “You knew her?” I ask brazenly, seeing a sadness as he turns back to me and a fake smile pops up to hide his obvious reaction. His expression clouding over a little and despite my senses not being on form, I can almost taste the change in his mood. He looks at me oddly, eyes narrowing, and it’s as though he goes to say something then stops and falters, his mouth opening with no sound before he draws back, looks around once more and leans in a little, lowering his tone. Only too aware of the female across the way.

  “She was my friend. This was her project… long before the war. The hybrid research…. the learning about the rare wolves no one talks about. I never imagined she would end up being one of its inhabitants.” His face reddens and he shakes his head as though he can’t quite believe he told me this. Mentally shaking himself, but I’m not going to let an opportunity pass me by, and I have to show he can trust me.

  “He just left her here to rot. Juan, I mean… because she got sick?” I ask innocently, fully aware that upstairs he said there was nothing wrong with her mind at all, but I need to gently draw him into this. I need to win him over slowly.

  “Sick! Hah…… Her mate has no interest in my research, but we serve a purpose that he needs fulfilled. Keeping her alive and……. Quiet. If that is the sickness to which you refer. So, he pays the facility bills, funds my grants, and leaves us to do whatever as long as she exists here, and we don’t ask questions anymore.” His low hushed voice signals that maybe he doesn’t quite trust either the female across the way, or maybe there are camera’s down here. I sit up a little, pushing my hands under the edges of my legs and change tactic. A common ground to show him I’m definitely not about to run to Juan.

  “I knew her too… and her son…. I know him. Colton.” I don’t know why I hesitate to call him my fated mate, but the piercing sharp stab to my heart before the word comes out stops me. Maybe because all I can think of when he comes to the forefront, is that he has betrayed me and marked that bitch and is now her mate. I can’t bear to say the word out loud. I swallow it down, the bitter taste almost making me gag.

  “Ahhh, yes, little Colton, such a blessed boy. So many years since I laid eyes on that beautiful child. She was so very proud to bear a son you know. Always wanted a child of her own, and the fates blessed her finally, with that little bundle of cheekiness, while providing Juan the heir he was pressing for. His future legacy. He was such a little rebel as a pup, always climbing, and running around when I visited the manor. I can’t imagine what her being taken did to him. He loved her so very much.” The faraway look, the distance as he locks onto a memory, and I slide down from the bed, motioning to the food tray so as not to make him think I’m coming at him, but I want to be closer so he feels more able to talk freely in a hushed tone. I want to lull him into a sense of security and kill him with kindness.

  “She struggled to conceive him?” I ask innocently, trying to direct the conversation and keep him engaged in what he assumes is neutral, get him talking. If I’m going to win him over to my side, I have to make him feel he can talk to me and not like I’m prying too much for answers to Sierra’s current predicament. ‘You move around the prey to suss out the best angles and lull it into a sense of calm before you pounce on it’… is something my grandfather always used to say. I’m curious though, that a wolf would have issues with fertility, as it’s not really something we suffer with. We’re physically perfect… fertility is a given when the fates decide it’s your time to pup.

  “Curse of some hybrids I’m afraid. It’s that when they mate with a pureblood, sometimes the pure genetics destroys the hybrid cells and the child becomes non-viable. In vitro cell death. It’s been so hard to reproduce with your kind, because like I said, imperfections are destroyed by your own DNA. An invasion of another species in the makeup is exactly like a virus in your body, it has itself a little war of its own and diminishes the fertile egg. Fascinating, yet heart-breaking, especially for her. Colton was her seventh and I think had he died it would have finally broken her. Such a special boy.”

  I know he’s said it twice now, but he can’t be right, about the hybrid thing at all. I mean, my mother had two planned pups and she never mentioned issues in pregnancy or carrying us, so neither of my parents could have been hybrids. Which means I’m definitely not. And then there’s the matter of Sierra… she was wolf. And especially not where Juan is concerned, he’s not. That’s a whole other thing.

  “She can’t be a hybrid. That makes no sense at all… Juan Santo is a pureblood who wouldn’t’ tolerate that kind of union. His son’s a pureblood, it’s all he ever goes on about.” Rolling my eyes without meaning to, a little anger spiking through as memory replays on the whole superior lording over the mountain bullshit. Juan’s constant lord and king kick and preaching to the packs for decades about his families traced pure line of genetics. The Santos pride themselves on being from the strongest lineage of wolves. He would never willingly take on a mate who was anything less, I mean look at his reaction to my being fated to Colton. That says it all!!

  The doctor looks behind him, checking his assistant is engrossed in dealing with the machines before stepping inside my room, so the door slides closes behind him, lowering his tone once more.

  “My dear, I fear I have said too much and inadvertently made your hope of release a less plausible outcome. You must forget what I said, especially about Luna Santo. It’s in your best interest that we never had this conversation, and you do not repeat to anyone that we did.” There’s serious concern etched into his face that deepens the lines around his eyes and he locks a direct gaze right on my eyes, a hint of warning in his tone. He’s closing down our line of communication because he thinks what he’s telling me puts me in danger. A hint that I was right about his character and him being the soft link in this facility. He’s a decent man who cares, and I need to show him that I’m already screwed, so he doesn’t lock me out.

  “I imprinted on Colton and Juan forbade it…. We’re fated, but he forced him to mark another for the sake of the pack. I’m not getting set free…. I’m probably going to end up like her, or worse. I’m a reject of the pack, a diluted bloodline who brings shame to his people, and the only reason he’s coming here is to be done with me once and for all……. nothing you say makes a difference to what he’s going to do to me. I’m not getting out.” It’s a harsh hurried whisper, and I fall silent as I catch a glimpse over his shoulder of his assistant coming out of Sierra’s room. Nodding her way to alert him, but he seems completely dazed. Stiff and still and staring at me intensely.

  “I’m done, I’ll go up to the lab and run the new bloods we were sent from the south, Doctor.” She calls to him from the hallway across the bay and without looking back at her he waves a hand dismissively, eyes locked on me in the most alarming way. She takes that as an answer, nods, and walks off towards the elevator briskly to head back upstairs. The air in this room suddenly heavy with tension.

  “Imprinted? By the fates? As in that rare form of bonding two souls so they become insanely lust and love driven to be forever together? I didn’t think any alpha had the authority to undermine that. It means you’re linked to …. Sierra’s bloodline?” His skin tone seems to pale noticeably, and his eyes darken weirdly. His mind clearly racing over a million thoughts and his forehead wrinkles deepen as his frown does. An air of mild nervousness kicking up around him.

  “Yeah, well, Juan doesn’t give a rat’s ass about anything except his own authority, and Colton, he’s so stuck in his s
hadow that he chose to let me go instead of honoring the bond. So I left, didn’t look back and something brought me here instead. This wasn’t a chance find…. This facility. Dreaming of her almost every night, and something pulled me here. I’d headed south, but something made me change and come east from my path… Sierra’s voice calling or some stupid memory of a dream that wouldn’t leave me alone.” I offload on him, now I know his companion is in the elevator and it feels good to finally say it to someone, rather than be all caught up in my own head. A gush of chatter that I’ve been turning over for days.

  “Stop. Don’t.” The doctor waves his hand at me, snapping me back to attention, and the wild-eyed terrified look on his face as though I just told him I have a bomb under my ass. He turns abruptly, panic slamming the card against the wall panel to slide open the door, lacking graceful coordination, and steps out of the doorway fully, shaking his hands and head and I follow, unsure why he’s recoiling. His whole-body trembling as he oozes a crazy amount of fear. I can taste it.

  “What? Why? Do you think I’m lying?” The sudden rise of emotion in him has me on edge too, and the panic that I’m scaring my only ray of light to escape away. He appears to be running away, but as he turns to me, to close the door, the tear I catch in his eye silences me and he pauses, taking a deep breath and lowering his hands. The open door between us keeping us a couple of feet apart, but his sadness overwhelms me.

  “Eight years of silence… eight years watching her sleep. Eight years hoping that one day the things she said, I’d accept that my friend had lost her mind completely. Eight years…. and I convinced myself that her visions and stories were that of a mad woman, broken by battle which convinced her that her mate was an evil player in some bigger plan, and her confinement here was a betrayal to silence her. Eight years justifying that she was better asleep, than to be tortured by her own illness of the mind.” I don’t know if he’s saying it to me, or to himself, his eyes not on me, just glazed and distant as a single tear rolls down his cheek and I’m so very confused.