Fang

Punishment

My mouth tasted metallic, like blood.

My eyes burned as I opened them, painfully moving them to take in my surroundings. I didn't recognize this room.

Thick sheets surrounded me, my head propped on plush pillows. Stovall's head was face down in the side of the bed, my arm in her lap and fingers on my wrist as if she had been monitoring my heart beat all night long.

She snored softly into the sheets. Her hands were caked in dried blood, flaking off from her skin.

I took a deep breath in, readying myself to sit up. Only, I couldn't take a deep breath. It stopped halfway, painfully cut off and leaving me wincing. Stovall stirred in her sleep, mumbling something that sounded like a curse, before quickly sitting up.

She smacked her lips together, eyes still closed. I moved to pull my hand from her grasp, but he fingers tightened on my wrist, her eyes now opening. "Crossfield?" She mumbled.

I opened my mouth to talk, but she swiftly stopped me. "Don't talk. You can't."

She rose from the chair she'd pulled to the side of the bed and peered at me. "I need to check on those stitches." Stitches? Stovall sighed. "You passed out screaming. If I had time, I would've put you under. But there wasn't enough time, your lung was punctured and filling with blood. Your heart would've failed eventually."

Underneath the sheets, my other hand slowly drifted over my skin and up to my chest. Sure enough, between my breasts was a line of stitches where Stovall had opened me up. Stovall reached for the sheets to pull them back, but I slapped her hand away.

"I don't care that you're naked. I got to see all of it already." She growled at me. "Either I check on them or the Alpha does." Her eyebrow lifted at me. She knew the answer. "I'll go get him then."

Stovall left the room, casting one glance back at me. When she was gone, I slowly sat myself up, needing to use my arm to prop myself up behind me. I winced with the movement, a hiss escaping my lips.

On the wall opposite of the bed sat a large mirror. My eyes connected with my own, moving to the knotted hair, the blood stained lips, bruised neck, before landing on the stitches.

They went straight between my breasts, curving to the side over my ribs. Or lack of ribs. In their place were black bruises. As I touched them, watching myself in the mirror, blood oozed from the stitches. I shouldn't be moving.

The door swung open, my head turning to see who it was. It was Forrest. With his eyes on me, he pushed the door shut behind him.

His eyes landed on my chest. Not my breasts, but the stitches that held my skin together. His expression softened.

"You shouldn't be sitting up, Samantha," he scolded, but his voice didn't hold anger. He neared the bed, coming around to where Stovall had sat before. His eyes examined the stitches, following the blood that leaked from them.

"I'll be right back." He disappeared into another room, coming back with a damp towel and wrap. I extended my hand to take the towel from him but he only shook his head, sitting down in the seat Stovall had pulled next to the bed.

His hands were gentle, careful as he swept the towel over my skin, cleaning the blood. He took his time, extra careful around my ribs.

"Am I still Gamma?" I forced the words out, raspy and painful. Forrest was leaning down, his head close to my chest as he focused. His eyes drifted up to mine.

"For now." He smiled, but it was a sad smile. He'd unwillingly announced me as his mate. NightBlood would expect to see me crowned as luna.

"Stay still," he murmured as he pulled the wrap around my skin. He pulled it tight around me, holding the gauze in place. Once he was satisfied with his work, he sat back and peered at me. "You need a bath."