Werewolf Compilations novel Chapter 105

I close the diary when I hear footsteps then silence then the front door closing. Hesitantly, I leave the library and peak into the kitchen, then the living room to find Theresa. I ask her if it was his father leaving, and she says yes. She says that he's staying in the pack until James is better.

Not waiting for another second, I hurry upstairs and into my bedroom. I'm not sure how Alpha-blood healing works, but I try to wake him up anyway. With a gentle hand, I tap and shake and call out softly, "James. James, you have to wake up." He stirs so I continue, needing help.

"James, please," I murmur," please wake up. It's your father. He's here. I don't know what to do. I don't know if he's dangerous or not."

His brows furrow, his eyes squeezing.

James

Everything around me is dark. Some unearthly darkness; blue, and purple, and fogged. I'm in the house, yet in some other universe, another dimension. Dust floats and covers and I walk forward into the house as if a visitor. Through the windows is a deep night and all the shutters are open, all curtains stuffed to the edge. There is no one here, no Theresa, or Gail, or Will, or... No. She's here. I can hear her. I can hear her soft nothings whisper from above me.

Suddenly a heavy worry weighs on my shoulders, drags down my heart and squeezes my lungs. My feet struggle to pick up as if weights have been strapped to them, but I hurry for the stairs, her voice calling to me. She's saying my name, needing me.

The hallway is long and dark, and I fight my way towards the large, grey doors, hearing her inside. She's scared. She doesn't know what to do. She's calling for me. My feet grow heavier, and I claw at the walls, forcing myself forward. I fall through the doors and stumble to the floor, so close. Her gentle cries echo in my mind, and I look to the bathroom door, a soft light leaking through the crack. Bringing myself to my feet, I push open the door and am blinded by brightness.

I see her, Rae, in the tub. Her nakedness is drowned in the richness of her blood, her head is thrown back, her neck bent over, her wrists submerged and emptied. Her dark hair pours over and dangles while some strands float on the surface. Her skin is pale, her face angel-like.

I grab her and heave her from the tub, bringing her to the cold floor. She rests in my arms, her skin stained and cool.

I close my eyes, squeezing, then open them, and there's light.