The Majors, Cold Fury (Book 2)

Chapter 69: Erin POV

I woke up and felt strange. Actually, I felt the opposite of strange, but then that made me feel strange.

Maybe it was because I wasn't used to feeling normal after two years of being a puppet. That's right. I'm back. And I'm about to make that everyone else's problem.

When I did wake the next morning, however, my entire body was aching and sore, as if my bones had been scrubbed raw before being stuffed back into my limbs. I was curled on the mattress, my wings sprawled out behind me, and I could feel the sunlight beating onto my face from the window across from me.

I groaned, screwing my eyes shut, desperately holding onto the last few moments of sleep I had left before they were tugged away from me. Stupid sunlight. I slowly opened my eyes, my vision blurred for the first few moments as I peered around the room, my hands clenched around the blankets I was lying on top of. I was alone. Thank god because if Scott had stayed the entire time and I woke up with him I would have punched myself. Or him. The latter would've made me feel better actually.

I propped myself up on my shaking arms, staring down at the white, bloodstained shirt I had been put into sometime during my time unconscious. Like jeez had anyone here ever heard of consent?

My mouth was as dry as Pixandria, and I could taste the blood plastered against the roof of my mouth, metallic as if my tongue was covered in pennies. I resisted the urge to gag, and I would have vomited if I had had anything in my stomach at the time.

Another strangled groan escaped my chapped lips as I sat all the way up, stretching, but instantly regretting it as I curled back up to avoid further straining my aching muscles.

I glanced towards the door, opened a crack, which annoyed me. The audacity this man had to not even close the door... I struggled to the end of the mattress, pressing my bare feet to the ground before pushing myself off the bed, staggering into the wall opposite me. "Weak..." I muttered to myself, and I was startled to hear my voice, raspy and low as if I hadn't drank let alone seen water in weeks. I coughed, after I spoke, into my arm, thanking god that there was no blood splattered across my forearm despite tasting it.

I clenched my jaw before forcing myself forward, opening the door roughly before exploring down the hallway, crossing my arms tightly over my chest as I walked, hunched slightly, my wings dragging behind me.

I began to hear voices a few moments later, a distinct elvish accent masking the first. I turned the corner, and saw my brother leaned up against the wall, his arms crossed as he spoke to Fwhip.

What annoyed me was that they were being friendly, like the man hadn't tried to blow us both up. These two ain't going to be buddies, not on my watch.

"Oh, hey Erin- Good lord you look—" Scott started, eyebrows raising upon seeing me.

"Like a corpse." Fwhip cut off, finishing for him as he looked me up and down, clicking his tongue.

"I was going to say horrible, but yeah that works too." Scott added, glancing at Fwhip than back at me.

I glared at Fwhip. "Shut up or you will be a corpse." I growled; my voice just as hoarse as before.

"Okay then—" Fwhip said, immediately shutting up before adjusting his scarf as he pursed his lips.

"What we're trying to say, Erin, is that you definitely need to eat something and wash up." Scott said, his tone softening as his gaze rested upon me.