Red in the Blue

Chapter 29

The following night, I lurched awake as I flailed through the air and caught myself on my paws, knocking over the bedside lamp so it thudded against the carpet. I heard Cade on the stairs, and he burst into the room moments later, his eyes widening as he looked up at me, swearing.

"Are you alright?" He asked. "What's wrong?"

I couldn't answer him, of course. I started as the door flew open, crouching, tried to catch my breath as I confirmed no one was in the room but us. He was in a t-shirt and shorts again, his hair tousled, and he smelled sleepy. My clothes were shredded, littering the bed sheets and the carpet beside the bed. I backed into a corner while Cade carefully stepped around me and gathered the pieces up.

"You okay?" he asked again, stepping back to put space between us and looking at me. When I stayed pressed into the corner, tail tucked, ears back, he disappeared and returned with my bag, nudged it into the open doorway. I heard him and felt him sit down in the hallway. It took me over an hour to calm down enough to shift back. I showered, falling asleep seated on the shower floor again. I went back to sleep in Cade's bed, his breathing heavy and even from where he still sat in the hallway at the top of the stairs. I thought about crawling out, curling up against him just to feel the heat, his solidness, the sureness of him next to me.

I had nightmares about the fight with Lowell, only I was there this time, frozen in the corner of the clearing, cowering behind trees, watching Cade tear and shred the wolves who had taken me. He turned to me, blood soaking his fur, dripping from his teeth, his eyes red, but I couldn't move. If I had helped him, if I had fought next to him, maybe he wouldn't have looked at me with that same hunger. Maybe he would have trusted me.

In the morning, I came across him in the kitchen. He had brewed coffee. He was showered and dressed. I could barely look at him, embarrassed.

"I called Dr. Cooper," he said around a mouthful of breakfast burrito. There were more eggs on the stove, everything left out on the island for me. I started preparing my own plate. My hands trembled with everything I did, and I felt his eyes on me.

"He was worried you're not getting good enough sleep to recover. He prescribed some sedatives. They'll keep you from shifting in your sleep."

"I've only done it twice," I mumbled back.

"Well, I sent Josh to pick them up. Obviously up to you whether or not you need them."

I spooned eggs into a tortilla warm from the microwave and scooped peppers and chives and tomatoes in with my fingertips, added black beans and sprinkled cheese and hot sauce. Cade was eating against the counter, looking out across the beach, but his attention felt focused on me.

"He said you shouldn't shift for a while," he said presently. I looked up, my burrito half-folded.

"What do you mean?"

"He said for someone whose body isn't that used to shifting, it puts a lot of strain on you, and you should hold off on doing it for a couple weeks at least."

The way he looked at me, I felt like he knew my stomach had dropped and curled, that my muscles were coiled against every word he said. My wolf was the only one who could protect me. I had woken up today thinking I should shift more, try running in the woods, try to occupy that form more often and more intentionally. But I didn't say any of that to Cade. He finished his breakfast and left his plate in the sink. I sat at the island and ate quietly and took my painkillers, but my headache had dulled to something almost entirely ignorable and with the windows tinted the sun was almost bearable.

Dr. Cooper called me himself that afternoon, the phone rousing me from where I rested on the couch. He clarified that he wanted me to take the sedatives round-the-clock for a few days, to keep myself from shifting at any time.