Cinders [Completed]

Chapter 7: Heat

It starts that night.

The exhaustion from the day sends me tumbling into a sleep as soon as I hit the bed. In my dream, I'm standing at the edge of a very long drop. I've never been a massive fan of heights, but I look down at the ground far, far below and feel only mild disinterest.

"Change," a voice whispers in my ear. I whip around. A frigid breeze has begun, tearing at my mousy hair. It burns my eyes.

"Change," it sounds again, but I can't see anyone nearby. The skyline is shockingly desolate and grey, as grey as my bedroom walls.

An ache begins in my stomach, an ache that I've only felt once before, when I was 13 years old. I can't. I can't.

"I can't," I scream, but the wind tears it from my throat. I can't swallow my silence; it bears over me like a coat, with too many layers, I'm too warm, too warm.

I would be hidden from this wind at the bottom of the cliff. It wouldn't be so bad. Just a fall, and it would be over with. It seems so much easier.

"Change."

It's a new voice, and much closer. It's so deep that it rumbles to my toes.

"I can't, Dad," I whimper.

And it is my dad, of course. He faces me with a stoic, sad expression. "Ashlee," he sighs, and the wind echoes it down the cliff face.

I'm 10 years old. A mean boy at school shoved me in a puddle, and my legs are covered in mud. I know, I try to tell him, I know that you have rules against looking disorderly, I know there are consequences. We're in the living room, and the fire is already alight.

"I can't," I choke out through broken sobs.

"Don't cry," Dad threatens, "you know the rules about crying."

When I look up at him from the fire, he has transformed into his wolf, large and golden and terrifying. In one bound, he leaps forward, his maws open and dozens of teeth latching onto my abdomen -

I wake up with a strange sensation tingling in my hands. My bed is doused in sweat, and my skin feels clammy.

The tingling in my hands quickly spreads up my arms. I untangle myself from my bed in rapid, wild movements. Even the air is too suffocating. I've had burns that hurt far worse than this, but this is a panicked sensation that stretches across my entire body. Nausea pools in the back of my throat.

A mass of want is building in my stomach, a hunger that strikes me deeper than any I have ever had.

Great Goddess above, where is he? My mate, my mate, my mate, his hands would be so nice and cool against my feverish skin. Why hasn't he come for me?

My head throbs louder with each heartbeat. I can't think, but there must be a reason that my mate isn't here. Did he reject me? My own mate, reject me? I have to push back tears at the idea.

Surely he is looking for me! I should go outside so he can find me, find me and touch me and cool the heat that's melting my thoughts.

The heat erupts in my stomach in an intense, white flame. I know the sensation of fire, I've felt it on my skin, but this is like I swallowed a dozen lit matches and they are heating through my organs.

He must be with another wolf, now. Another wolf is touching him; he is whispering another wolf's name, wanting another wolf's body. I have to find him, so I can kill the wolf and show him that I'm worthy of his touch, worthy of his desire -