The Wolf Queen (The Queen's Slave, Book 2)

Eighteen: Burn

"Fiat Lux," meaning "Let there be light."

-(Old Testament) Genesis 1:3

My Arms By: LEDGER

My eyes felt dry and itchy as I cracked them open, squinting at the light burning through my retinas as the light from the flame danced off of the old mining walls. My eyes watered and with a muffled groan I closed them, burying my head back into the warmth of the soft pillows. It only took my brain half a second after I inhaled, to understand that the "pillow" under my head was actually Elizabeth's breasts. My eyes flew open, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest. But as I reluctantly took a look around at the rather hostile looking group surrounding us, I decided sleep sounded much more appealing and closed my eyes again, unashamedly returning to her warmth. I didn't know or particularly care how she suddenly was here with me but if it was a dream I wasn't going to take any chances. A low chuckle vibrated through my body, sending shooting pain through my back and causing me to jerk with a gasp, instinctively reaching for where it had radiated from. My face still pressed to her chest, well, collarbone now. Her mind bled a soft pink as her thoughts intertwined with mine, expressing her apologies.

Her emotions shuttered slightly, like ripples on lake's surface, before she spoke. "Don't try to reach, there is still an arrow in your back." As her voice rolled rather clearly across my mind, shock poured over me like a bucket of icy water, snapping my eyes open. My stomach lurched in my chest as I tried to process the situation we were in. A frown teased at the corners of my mouth at the sight of Camille leaning against the right wall, arms crossed loosely but her body tense as she eyed me. Elijah was hunched over in the corner opposite of her, his head turned away.

My lips parted in a gasp and my head snapped around, coming face to face with a small but lethal looking switchblade. Jacob's fingers shook as he glared at me, no above me. His bloodshot gaze filled with so much hate that I could almost smell the rusty tang of it. I wrinkled my nose as I looked down at my pale form, enveloped in Elizabeth's arms and coated in dried blood. My brow furrowed as I struggled to remember how we got here and why there were two arrow wounds in my back. As if in answer, a presence at the back of my mind shifted slightly, almost like a separate awareness. An image of a cat rubbing it's side against my leg came to mind.

It wasn't my wolf. It was something else. But it flooded my mind with clarity and restored my memory nontheless.

I was vaguely aware of muted conversation happening around me, but I couldn't concentrate as I struggled to understand what my brain was trying to show me. The memories came fast, and so did the horror. I wanted to close my eyes and run from them. From the pain. But I could do nothing but watch as a monster with my face leapt for my mother, fangs bared and death in her black eyes. I felt sick when Elijah had to bring me down because my mother didn't even lift a finger to fight me, firing my own arrows into my back. A knot filled my throat when they dragged me into the previously abandoned mine shaft kicking and screaming and yet not fully awake, eyes flickering between black and blue. I remembered the way the darkness and claustrophobia had squeezed the air out of me, and I remembered how they had to hold me down to get the arrows out and to keep me from thrashing around. My stomach cramped at the phantom pressure of Jacob's weight on my bare back, pinning me to the floor as he ran his hands over my skin, inspecting the damage.

I remembered how Camille gently brushed the hair back from my bruised face and whispered soothingly to me when I begged him to stop, because in my mind it wasn't them touching me and holding me down.