By Your Side. (Sequel to Art Girl and Wolf Boy)

By Your Side. (22)

This is dedicated to Brokenwing, my new co-writer who's helping me come up with the next few chapters (and is a completely awesome look-alike of Archer lol). Thanks for helping! Told ya I'd finish!

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Phoebe's POV:      

Flashback:    

It hurt.  

Not a very creative description, I know, but I was in so much agony that I didn't have time to explore any possible artistic ways to describe excruciating pain. My head felt like someone had taken a baseball bat to it. My arms and legs, numb with pain, and I had the distinct feeling that I was floating. 

I felt tingles on my arms, sharp, pleasant pricks where Archer anxiously touched me as I faded in and out of conciousness. His blue eyes, like ocean waters, keeping me awake. Someone lifting me, gently, as I convusled.  

I heard things. Archer's voice, mostly, my dad's and the alpha's.  

"I want it to stop, dad."  

"It will, don't worry. It's always worse for the girls, son. I was so glad that your mom was human..." He paused.   

Archer's voice shocked me. It was heavy with grief. I didn't know why. Even though we were mates, he didn't love me like that. No. Surely, he was grieving for me like he'd grieve for a brother. "Because she wouldn't have to go through this." I had the feeling that he was gesturing toward my broken body. "She wouldn't have to anyways. It's my fault. I made her lose control." I heard the rustle of his hair as his father gave him a sympathic ruffle.  

"She'll pull through. She's strong."  

And I did.  

I woke up with paws, a lighter blonde then Archer's and large, suited for running. Flecks of dark blonde coated the tips of the paws as if they'd been dipped in honey. I lifted my head, blinking. I could still see in color. I guess that was another perk of being a werewolf.  

Archer was slumped in the chair, dark circles underneath his closed eyes. He didn't snore, and even in sleep he frowned with worry. Still, he was gorgeous, in an innocent bad boy type of way.   That didn't mean that I forgave him. Even if I did want to go over there and kiss the hurt away.   

 I really didn't know what to feel. On one hand, I was still pissed as hell at him and my father, and anyone who kept the secret from me all of those years. Not telling a wolf that they were your mate was like not telling someone that they were a werewolf. It just wasn't supposed to happen.    

I could slowly feel my anger draning away though, beginning to understand his point of view. I was too young. We weren't the first to ever have to wait for a while. Plus, he looked so tired...  

I'd given him enough grief, what with my unplanned shifting and all. He'd had to deal with that. He didn't need me harping at him.  

At the same time, though, he should've said something. I had a right to know. Somebody should have said something. And though I forgave him, I still wasn't sure whether I could honestly believe him as quickly as I had before. I was still wary. I guess it was the shock that did that.   

So I hated him, but I didn't hate him.   

I was so confused.   

I decided not to think about it. Instead, I stared at my best friend, feeling the familiar light feeling and bubbles. He was asleep and haggard looking, and he still made me blush. I was really pathetic.