Fate Mate

Chapter 45

At first, I thought that someone was shining a bright flashlight in my face. Like I was in the hospital and some doctor was blinking their little medical pen in my eyes to test pupil reaction. But, here, the light was constant and blinding. And so deliciously warm.

I blinked once, then twice, and my surroundings slowly came into focus. I was in the guest bedroom in the pack house, with the off-white walls and darkly stained wooden furniture. Ivory blankets surrounded me like a blessed cocoon, and a sheen of sunlight passed through the open window and pooled on my skin.

As everything slowly came back to me, I became painfully aware of a soreness in my stomach, like I'd done one-too-many crunches in training. I shifted to sit up a bit straighter in bed, but the dull ache kept me from traveling too far, and my throat was so dry I couldn't even muster a groan. With every passing second, I felt worse. I felt like death. Go figure. I took a long, shaky breath, hyperaware of the pain ricocheting against my ribcage as my lungs expanded.

"The... consequences of stabbing yourself... in the lungs," I huffed to myself, rasping every word, and finally hauled myself onto one elbow.

Now propped-up by my arm, I noticed that I wasn't alone in the bedroom. In a corner chair, Angelina was curled into a tight ball, hands wrapped around her knees and head resting between them. She looked uncomfortable, shifting every few seconds like she was experiencing a nightmare. Dark purple circles shaded the area beneath her eyes, like she hadn't slept in days. Hadn't it only been a few hours?

"A-Angelina?" I croaked, forcing myself upward until I fully sat against the pillows.

She catapulted upward, like my voice had been as loud as a gunshot in her ear. Her eyes were wide—terrified, and she blinked as her gaze shifted back and forth. A long second passed before her almond brown eyes landed on me and became impossibly round.

"Oh my..." she breathed, before a huge smile overtook her features, and it warmed me more than the sunlight. "Charlie!" she gasped and lunged toward the bed.

Angelina reached both hands out and grabbed mine, holding them like her life depended on it—like she didn't quite believe that I was really there. When she felt the warmth beneath my skin, she started sobbing, burying her head in the ivory comfortable.

"Y-y-you were d-dead!" Angelina cried, risking a glance up at me. Her eyes were already swollen, and it made me wonder how often she'd been crying in the past few hours. "You were dead," she repeated, but started to shake her head, "and you weren't waking up."

My throat tightened, but I tried to lift a corner of my lips in a smile. It puckered against my will, instead. "Right, that was the plan, Angelina," I replied, my voice thick despite my weak attempt at humor.

She started shaking her head. "I d-didn't think you were coming back. I thought I'd failed!"

I squeezed her hands. "I was only gone a few hours! Your magic worked incredibly!"

Angelina stopped sobbing, eyes narrowing as she stared at me like I was a crazy person. Tears still dampened her cheeks as she took a shaky breath. "A few hours? Charlie, you've been gone for a week."

My heart felt like it stopped beating all over again. My insides disappeared, leaving a void of panic where my stomach should have been. A week? I was dead for a week? I didn't speak—couldn't speak. A week.

Angelina seemed to notice my panic, for she released my hand and scooted closer on the bed. Her soft, delicate hands reached up to stroke a piece of my brown hair away from my face. "Y-you didn't know?"

I didn't respond. Didn't so much as shake my head. That was answer enough. Angelina swallowed. "The battle ended shortly after you died. Nolan went crazy—killed dozens of hybrids in a matter of seconds. He and Dominic did."