Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted novel Chapter 432

LISA

Watching Ava struggle with the aftermath of the strange attack leaves me humbled. It feels like she's been growing all this time, while I've been sitting stagnant. Even my relationship with Kellan…

My gaze drifts to Kellan's broad shoulders. The gentle way he touches me, the way he watches my every step—it's a consideration he shows me. Every. Single. Day.

A knot forms in my throat.

The mate bond between us is something I can feel now, like an extra heartbeat in my chest, but I keep that door sealed tight. Sometimes I catch him watching me with those storm-gray eyes, waiting for me to let him in. To trust him. To love him back the way he loves me.

The memory of cold hands on my skin makes me shiver. Sharp fangs. Blood. Pain. Memories I thought I was over, but keep intruding of late.

No, nope. Not today, Satan. Focus on Ava.

I push away from the wall and cross the room. "Hey." My arms wrap around her thin frame. She feels as though she's lost ten pounds in one day; magic seems to take a lot out of her. "You need to sleep for at least an hour. Non-negotiable."

"Lisa—"

"Nope. Doctor's orders."

Her lip twitches. "You're not a doctor."

"Hey, I've watched enough Grey's Anatomy to qualify." The joke falls flat, but at least she cracks a weak smile. "One hour. That's all I'm asking. The families will still be here when you wake up. Go now, before I get mean about it."

"Okay," she agrees easily enough, a sure sign she's exhausted.

Vanessa's eyebrow lifts. "Impressive."

"Kellan, can you take her to her cabin?" My fingers twist in the hem of my sweater. "Make sure she actually sleeps?"

"On it." Kellan guides Ava toward the door over her protests, where she keeps saying she isn't going to do anything and doesn't need a babysitter. The room falls quiet as their footsteps fade.

Vanessa stands, adjusts her scrubs, and heads for the door. Her hand pauses on the handle. "Lisa?"

"Hmm?"

"Is there something wrong with your leg?"

My heart skips a beat for some reason. "What?"

"You keep rubbing your thigh." Vanessa's dark eyes fix on my leg. "I've noticed it the past few days."

I glance down. Sure enough, my palm presses against my thigh, right over the spot where fangs once pierced flesh. The phantom sensation of teeth breaking skin sends ice through my veins. The memory burns, itches, demands attention.

Nope, not going down that hellscape of memories. I'm stronger now. Different. Recovered and normal now.

I snatch my hand away. "Just a bad habit with an old wound. How are you doing? You look exhausted." Looking her over, I add, "You probably need the rest as much as Ava does."

Vanessa's eyes narrow as she studies my face, her lips pursed, but she lets it go to say, "I've had worse shifts. It comes with the job"

My thigh tingles. The sensation spreads up my leg like pins and needles, an echo of that night. Those hands. Those teeth.

Someone clears their throat from my right. "Are you planning to go anywhere, ma'am?"

Ma'am? Glancing at one of my ever-present shadows, I shake my head. "No. I was just… looking."

Three of them pass by me to come inside, making sure I'm guarded now that Ava and the others are gone. Meanwhile, I'm unable to tear my eyes from the horizon. Something about the endless white makes my skin crawl. Like anything could be hiding out there, waiting.

Nothing feels safe anymore. Wolf's Landing was a sanctuary, and yet it was breeched. Now, it's like my mind keeps whispering to run, even though I know this is the safest place to be.

My fingers find my thigh again, pressing against the old wound through my jeans. The tingling intensifies.

I close the door with more force than necessary, shutting out the view. A dry laugh escapes me as I lean against it.

God, I need therapy. Real therapy, not just talking to Vanessa or avoiding Kellan's concerned looks. Someone who specializes in supernatural trauma would be ideal, but I doubt that's a thing.

How would that even work? 'Hi, I was kidnapped by vampires and now I have PTSD. Did you know vampires are real?'

Maybe there's a group somewhere on social media for PTSD after vampire attacks. There's one for everything. Now that technology and life has returned, maybe I can look…

No. Better not. Even if one exists—and they probably do now that the freaking apocalypse has come along and supernaturals stand with our president on national TV—there are probably spies in there.

"Does anyone want coffee?" I ask the guards, heading for the coffeepot. I'm already jittery, but sitting in silence isn't appealing. At least with a cup, I can sip at it occasionally.