Mate To A Whisper

Gathering

*runs into room* *throws chapter papers at people* *runs out* DON'T KILL ME!! IT'S NOT MY FAULT I SWEAR!!!!.....okay it is my fault BUT PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!!!!!!

I've been feeling so guilty about not updating and have been reading a lot of good werewolf stories to try and get me out of writers block enough to give you guys a good chapter. This one was originally going to be pretty boring but I figured I'd change it up to add some spice for you guys.

On the bright side all this time has allowed my writing style to mature and much better than it has been in previous chapters (at least I hope)

Happy (please not muderous) readings

- Freedom

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Mark's P.O.V.

I drug open my eyes open only to shut them painfully against the striking light blaring at me from the white ceiling above. It took but a moment to notice the rhythmic beeping in the background and I knew I was in a hospital. Trying to sit up I was met with blinding pain coursing from both my torso and head, forcing my cripled body back into the sterile pillows. Memories of the fight with Luke made my hands fist around the blankets of my bed. Three against one. Me, Jack, and Parker against Luke. Sure he was big, but there was no way he could have thrown us around like that.

My heart thudded a fraction as images flooded through my mind. He threw me into the lockers with one hand. Parker was punched out cold with one hit. Jack was elbowed in the ribs once and collapsed. Luke had obviously been trained, but that still didn't account for the strength and speed at which he moved. I had been tacking martial arts classes since I was 12 and had seen nothing like this. The word inhuman crossed my mind a few times but it wasn't possible.

A flash of gleaming teeth, complete with fangs, and a piercing golden gaze flashed across my closed lids, jolting them open. I noticed the door opening and my mother stomped into the solitary room, curly brown hair bouncing in time to her strike.

"Mark." Her dark eyes were caring, but had a mysterious undertone swirling in their depths.

"Mom?"

"Do you remember what happened?" Snarling, pointed teeth flashed in my vision.

"Bits and pieces."

"Did anything about the fight seem... off? Unusual at all?"

"He was pretty strong, other than that, no."

"Are you sure honey? You didn't see anything weird happen with him during it?" I considered it for a moment. She obviously talked about it like she knew, so what was the harm in telling?

"Well there was-" At that point a man in scrubs came into the room. Mom's expression morphed instantly into a kind, motherly smile.

"Mark Evans? I'm your doctor, Mr. Fieldweld. I see you're awake, how are you feeling?" He approached with a protable light and flashed it in both my eyes.

"Could have been worse." I replied, hinting that it hurt while trying to refrain from looking weak in front of my mother.

"Yes it could have been worse, but you're lucky. I had to suture up four cuts on your abdomen totalling over 200 stitches, not to mention the brace you're wearing to help with the bruised vertebrae and the minor concussion you obtained. That training session really got out of hand didn't it?"

"Training session?" Before the doc could reply mom promply shoved him towards the door.

"Thank you so much doctor, really, I can't thank you enough for fixing my son up like that. I didn't think-" She continued to lead him out, the door shutting behind her and leaving me alone again. My thoughts raced around, making my large headache that much worse.