Buried

CHAPTER 7 | who is the elusive mr o'neill?

📎A/N.  Hello to another midweek. I hope you are all well.  Still under the weather so chapter is a bit short.

I also have to thank you all for supporting Buried which is currently sitting at #9 in Paranormal.  You are all absolute legends and are making this such a wonderful experience for me!

Don't forget to vote - yes even you silent readers - its really simple... just click the star :)

Take care.

❤ ℳ

❧ ⚛ ✺ ≋ ≋ ≋ ≋ ≋ ✺ ⚛ ❧

The dulcet tones of an owl carried across the star laden sky as it set off on its night's hunting. 

Turning his head towards the forest, Murphy contemplated the current nightmare he had gotten himself into. He watched the movement in the trees as the nocturnal animals and birds scurried about their business before the dawn.  All the while, wondering how his life had gotten so complicated within a twenty-four hour period.

Sleep had eluded him.  Giving up on the ability to get any rest, Murphy had showered and then wandered outside to think.  The outdoors often helped clear his mind and allowed some clarity and perspective.

Taking a seat on the porch swing, he finished his third cup of coffee as he replayed the events from earlier that evening.  It had been so long since he had been affected by this many disparate emotions; he was unsure of how to process it, let alone understand what to do with it.

His wolf, part of the reason for his restlessness, had been chipping away at his conscience, adamant that he needed to help the loud and headstrong F.B.I Agent.

Why, was beyond him.

For some reason he was angry at his human half for the way in which he had treated Ryan's daughter.

Moving a throw out of the way, Murphy's detected the object of his frustration's scent.  It was still strong on the blanket and he was very aware of the feminine bouquet that was assailing his senses.  The aroma was an intoxicating mixture of honey and cinnamon with something else that he could not quite put his finger on. 

Annoyed at the direction in which his mind was taking him, O'Neill tossed the woolen covering over the railings to allow him to think straight.

You have no idea how to deal with this.

"Just shut up will you?" Murphy ground out to his Wolf.

The agitated man ran a hand through his hair.  He had been in denial since the moment she was partnered with him. Murphy knew what he needed to do. 

His Wolf knew. 

He just didn't want to do it.

Finally giving in to his better judgement he reached for his phone. "Bollocks," he grumbled as he scrolled through his contact list and pressed the number he was after.

Murphy did not need to wait long before a very agitated male answered. "It's four-thirty in the fucking morning.  This better be good!"

"Depends on your definition of good."

There was a slight pause as Murphy heard something being dropped in the background. "Murf? Is that you?" the other voice now very much awake, "How the hell are you?"

"This is not a social call."

"I heard," came the quiet and sober reply, "Elijah is back."

"We have a problem."