A Kiss in the Shadows

A Kiss in the Shadows: Chapter fifteen

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-N.L.

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Chapter 15 

 I woke in the middle of someone tugging a burning instrument through my flesh. I whimpered softly in my dream state, still drifting through the haze of reality and make believe. The potent sweet unrealistic thoughts, coming to life in my imagination. Delicate whispers encircling me in comfort, caressing my skin.

 I felt the sharp tug again, digging into me, my pain white hot. A small muffled cry passed my lips and broke my land of peace.

I could almost hear the sound of my comforting fog shatter, leaving me with shards of reality. Parting me with the smell of blood, the feel of pain, and the sound of flesh being put back together.  I was lying on my stomach, my face pressed against my arm. My long hair soaked in sweat, my body covered in dirt and blood. Letting my eyes focus a moment before assessing my surroundings.

I recognized my kitchen table pressed against my bare stomach, a draft from the open window causing me to shiver. I lifted my head groggily and turned to see Mason, his head bent over the back of my lower thigh. I was barely covered; accept for Mason’s cloak draped against the lower part of my body.

“Mason…What are you..” I couldn’t finish my sentence, my throat felt like it had been clawed and mutilated, and my words were raspy.  He glanced up at me, before going back to work on my wound. My stomach lurched when I saw him pulling a needle in and out of my skin.

“You had some serious damage done to your muscles and tissue here.” Mason trailed off before sticking the needle in deeper. I didn’t expect it so suddenly and a small gasp left me. Mason whispered soothing words and I calmed slightly. But my wolf was on edge, not trusting.

“Guess your little lover likes things rough.” Mason chimed smartly; I blushed at his thoughts before I snapped at him. A half hearted growl dragging through my dry throat like a wounded animal. Mason jabbed me with the needle, rougher than the last. I bit on my tongue and said nothing more. 

I glanced at Mason once more, watching as his eyes got that serious look that they occasionally glaze over with.  Like the time in the forest where he was killing mouse’s with delicate flicks of his wrist. Or how he had pried the thorn from my nose.  Or even that time when we had been running as kids and I scraped my knee on the cobble stone. Mason had cleaned it out and fixed it.

He gets it from his mother I suppose.

 She does small medicines. Nothing that Ella can do, people of the village says Ella’s more of a witch than she is a lycan. Calling her works of healing witchcraft, until one of their family members run ill, and then they are left begging at her door step. Ella would never turn them away, even worked for free. Unlike me, I would have closed the door in their faces with a smile if it was up to me.

                I found it disgusting, that they could call her such horrible rancid things, and then suddenly all is forgiven when she has something that they want.  I feel Mason’s stitches come to a close; I wince as they get more precise when he get ready to knot.

                I relax my muscles when I realize it is now finished. His chair scuffs against the floor as he pushes himself away from the table. I see as he washes his hands in the basin, its water already a dull red. My eyes drift over to the pouch that had been sent to me. The materials inside already touched and opened, a placed in my injuries to insure against infection.  Except for the small vial, it contains a clear liquid. One I know well.  Sleep syrup.