For the first time in a week, I sleep deeply and restfully. I fully expected nightmares but none found their way past Chris's protective embrace.
By morning, the strange mental fog that seemed to cloak me finally lifts, and I'm feeling far more like myself. Chris is still sleeping soundly beneath me and, judging by the dark circles under his eyes, I don't think he got much sleep while I was gone either.
Eventually I can't stay still anymore. My body aches to move and my stomach starts grumbling, demanding breakfast.
"Morning beautiful," he whispers, kissing my forehead.
"Hey," I reply, snuggling into his chest. I feel like a freaking cat, I just can't get enough of his touch. The irony that physical contact used to send me such panic but now is a source of such peace is not lost on me.
"Hungry?" He asks.
My stomach growls as if to put in its own two cents, causing us both to laugh.
"I'll have someone bring us up-"
"Can we go down?" I cut him off, locking eyes with him. He studies my face and frowns. "My back's sore from laying around for so long, I need to move around some." I'm not above begging. He looks far away for a moment before nodding.
"Did you seriously just ask Doc if I could walk downstairs for breakfast?" I asked, raising a brow. The guilt written across his face says all I need for an answer.
I brush my fingers across his cheek and lean in, drawing his full attention. "Chris, I'm good, I promise," I say, locking my eyes on his and willing him to believe me. "I won't start climbing trees or do anything crazy, but you can't coddle me forever." He raises a brow to that last part as a challenging smirk slips on his lips.
"Got to take the kid gloves off eventually," I say matter-of-factly. As much as I appreciate everything he's done for me, I can't change my independent nature. Much to his dismay, I slip out of bed and head for the closet to put something fresh on.
Chris seriously plans to carry me down the steps, but settles for wrapping an arm around me and guiding me the whole way. His warm embrace is a welcome relief as we walk through the packed house.
The kitchen is busier than I would like. Noticing my discomfort, he walks us to the private dining room and goes off to grab us some food.
Jace is already in there, talking animatedly with Sara. I offer a quick hello and grab a seat in the middle of the table. Derek and his friends walk in and to my surprise they sit down right next to me. Chris shows up a moment later with two plates piled high with scrambled eggs, hash browns, and bacon.
"Finally let her out, eh brother?" Derek teases earning a growl from Chris.
"I'm feeling more like myself today," I offer, which Derek only raises his brow to. "It's funny, I don't get hungover from drinking but swear I felt like I was hungover ever since the fighting stopped," I explain further.
Derek claps my shoulder and laughs, "Welcome to the push hangover, the first one's a bitch."
The what?!
"Guardians have a unique link, luv, our energies are dynamic and shifting. To an extent, we can send some to another to give 'em a jumpstart," the fiery bearded man says. His Irish accent is music to my ears.
"You must have gotten some spill over when Kenzie gave me a push," Derek reasons.
The weird exchange replays in my mind once more. That he would stop to shake his friend's hand in the middle of a fight did strike me as odd but I didn't have any time to think about it then.
YOU ARE READING
Forgotten Wolf
WerewolfScars... Some are worn on the outside and read like a book, others are hidden on the inside, unseen but shape every fabric of our being. Alpha Chris has his share of scars. He wears them like badges of honour, having earned them protecting his pack...