Claimed (Werewolf boyxboy)

Chapter 32

JAX

Dissociative amnesia. That was what Benji diagnosed Corey with once he finally allowed the medic to get close enough to do an exam without the threat of losing a limb.

It was a traumatic stress disorder, one that was triggered when one's level of stress surpassed their ability to cope.

So – instead of coping – Corey's brain chose to simply... forget.

The days following his awakening were... different. And judging by the way Corey hid his oversized body behind mine to avoid pack members that he didn't recognize whenever we had to leave the comforting confines of our room, it was definitely beginning to take a toll on him. Fending off overly-curious pack members quickly became my part-time job, but I would gladly be his guard wolf if it meant making him feel even a little bit better about this entire situation.

To our relief, we found out within a day or two that I wasn't the only one on his 'unforgettables' list. All of his siblings, as well as their respective mates, had also made the cut, which helped immensely when we finally sat him down and told him about the death of his parents.

It was far from an easy conversation. In fact, it was one of the most challenging things that I ever had to do.

To feel the strength with which he gripped my hand, to sense the tingle of his confusion through our bond, to see his face transform into one of anguish as tears flooded down his cheeks... It was almost unbearable to witness for the second time in a single week.

But no matter how bad it hurt, it had to be done. So, we did it.

To my surprise, he handled the news much better than the first time, jaw screwing up with understanding and eyes hardening as he fought back against the sadness and depression that had previously bested him. Instead – in its place – a fiery eruption of radical acceptance shone behind those dark pupils, like coal set ablaze.

Then, he took to studying.

Day or night, rain or shine, he went over pages and pages of pack history, member records, and whatever other little scrap of information he could get his hands on. Of course – being the curious little shit I am – I couldn't help but bug him about eighteen million times about what the hell all of this was for. But after getting the bajillionth response of "You will know when I am done, sweetheart," I finally decided to let him do his thing and explore his newfound inner nerd.

...Even if being a brat and demanding retribution until he got fed up and fucked me until I screamed was stupidly appealing.

But this wasn't about me. What mattered right now was helping my mate heal; getting pounded into the mattress until I drooled and begged for more could wait. For now.

"Aye, you lil' shrimp. You are legally obligated to go back to sleep. I promise you don't want this smoke, I'll sue you bankrupt." I quipped, peering down.

It was one of those times when I had to – very sweetly and kindly, of course – coerce Corey to tear his nose out of piles of research and leave our room to get some fresh air. We had begun our mini-adventure with a visit to his parents' resting places in the Pack cemetery, the freshly overturned soil atop their shared grave a reflection of the raw wounds on Corey's psyche. But now – after paying our respects to those who were taken from this world much too soon – we leisurely traipsed the perimeter of the pack house, pastel hues of sunset lighting our path.

"Let him suck on your finger. It helps soothe." A deep voice rumbled, and I craned my neck to visualize the person from whom it emanated.

Corey looked so calm as he looked back down at me, and his tanned skin shone with an elysian radiance underneath the glow of the rapidly approaching dusk. It was a stark contrast to what was going on inside though, where massive amounts of heartbreak, worry, and doubt were fighting against innumerably larger waves of disorientation. Just feeling it through our bond was borderline unbearable, so I could only wonder how he managed to keep his skull from bursting from the pressure of it all.