Sleep began to take me despite my abundance of thoughts going here and there and everywhere, from the past with and without him, to the all too real fears and strangeness of the present, to the good and bad of the unknowns in the future to soon come.
As my mind drifted into oblivion, a rest sorely needed, dreams of him came again, fast and furious flashes of him in that abandoned room I’d seen him in earlier, alone and in pain. Our connection remained strong despite the angry, green to purple bruises and seeping gashes all over his skin. He laid there, on a dirty floor, naked and cold. The chill that seeped right through to his bones served only to keep him more awake than resting, that much more aware of his continued agony.
Seeing him weaker than he’d been any other time I’d seen, or connected, to him, my heart broke. It brought tears, a hot, heavy flow of water that I could feel running over my face, though I couldn’t see myself in the dream or vision. I looked him over from head to toe, evaluating even with the brutal truth that I could do nothing for him but to let him know that I cared, that I loved him, and that I was soon coming for him.
Starting at his head, his black hair was matted with dried blood more than whatever still oozed from a cut just above his right ear into his hairline. One eye of beautiful blue stayed swollen shut, while the other, now a greyish navy, glazed, looked around the room as if unseeing, unable to focus on any one thing. Cuts littered his cheeks, those of busted open skin from hard blows, accented with aging bruises, dried blood, and new signs of infection keeping the ridges of the skin wet.
Even asleep, somehow knowing this to be fact, that only our minds were connecting, I could feel my stomach roll and tighten. I gagged even, curling up over the sensation. I wouldn’t have been surprised to awaken to a bed that looked like it had been wrestled in. The nausea was powerful enough to affect my real body, make it react by twisting and turning under the covers, I was sure.
Puncture wounds, bite marks, dotted his shoulders, the skin there more red and angry than that on his face. The muscles there, ones I’d run my fingers over while making love as they bunched up under my fingers, remained tense even as he curled his shoulders forward over the pain there. I watched the muscles of his chest jump from time to time, as slashes of pain must have continued to rip through him. His abs were covered in streams of blood and dirt, and I feared that infection would take him if the injuries didn’t.
The blood, again more dry than wet, pooled on his lap, over his manhood, and onto his thick thighs. The beasts hadn’t even given him clothes now that he’d transformed back into a man. His legs were covered in scratches, some distinctly being from claws, while others were more topical, from being dragged.
I couldn’t close my eyes in the dream, make the image of him this way, so beaten, bruised, so mentally defeated, go away. I felt his spirit, and it wasn’t his exactly. Whatever they were doing in preventing him from healing, it seemed to be overriding his usual fierce spirit, as well. He lay there defeated.
As if it were possible, as if he saw me in the room, too, he seemed to look directly into my eyes. I found a second of comfort in this before my mind raged to save him, to heal him, to have him as not only my lover again, but as my wolf protector, fierce and unbeatable.
In my vision of him, he changed into his wolf. While that fur remained matted and bloody, the cuts and bruises were not as evident due to his thick fur. I moved my spirit to merge with his until it felt like I was holding him, stroking his fur, comforting him with the touch of my body. An animal-like moan came from his stomach, vibrating through his chest. It wasn’t a whimper, but almost a cry, as in a war cry of the defeated. He refused to give up, and neither would I.
In his massive ear, back and flat against his head, I willed myself to whisper to him. Stay strong, my wolf. I love you with all of my heart, all of my being, all that I am. And, I am coming for you, along with the others. Soon, you will be healing and in my arms again. I promise you that.
Chapter Sixteen
Stuffed into several vans and SUVs, the large group had made its way to the old manufacturing district. I really felt I’d been there before, and easily guided them to where we needed to go, until I saw the building he was being held in. At times, they’d directed me to close my eyes, to just feel him, to lead us when parts became unfamiliar. But, all in all, we’d gotten here pretty easily. Nira put in a call to the Royals who were in the area and on their way to meet us at this specific location.