Page 42 of His Curse
“Between Plush and Lakeview."
"She say anything to you?"
Ronny shakes his head. "She hasn't been awake long enough to say hardly anything at all. Just some incoherent shit about a lab, and getting out. I didn't get much more than that."
My eyes snap to Zan's and he gives me the faintest nod.
When I gave him the full story about my nightmares, about the investigation I've been doing the last twenty-five-years, I told him all about a lab. One I haven't been able to prove exists let alone locate, but I believe it does and I have theories surrounding it. Theories I shared with him that night as well, and if he’s thinking what I'm pretty sure he is, then I have reason to believe this female may be the break in my case I've been waiting for.
If she survives her injuries, anyway.
My wolf howls at that, howls loud and with so much pain over the thought of this female succumbing to her injuries it has my brow furrowing. I don't understand why he feels so strongly, not until I move a little closer and watch as Cora holds her hands over the bullet hole next to the female’s spine, focusing her blue light to pull the hollow-point from the female wolf’s body. And when she does, when that hole bubbles with fresh blood before it runs down the female’s side,that'swhen it fucking hits like a goddamn sledgehammer to the brain.
Orange blossoms.
Orange blossoms and warm earth.
Maple syrup.
Brown sugar and a summer breeze.
I rush to the end of the bed, damn near climb on top of it, and when my eyes land on the darkest brown hair matted with blood, my heart simultaneously cracks and swells while trying to pound right out of my fucking chest.
"Lark?"Gods. Oh my fucking gods, it can't be.
There is no fucking way. I killed her. I killed Lark, I killed my mate. There is no fucking way this is her, not after so many years, not after the horrible things I did to her.
But my wolf howls again, a howl of possession and joy, of heartache and loss, a howl he expects to be answered as he paces inside my mind before he freezes when we hear her wolf fuckinghowl back.
It's faint, so quiet and tired, but we heard it.
We both heard the same howl over one-hundred-and-thirty-years ago, and we'd know it anywhere. That was the fucking howl our mate used to call out to us then, and she’s calling out to us now with the same goddamn one.
And that howl gets a little louder as the body on the bed begins to stir, as she begins to fight Vok and Zan before confirming everything and nothing all at once.
"Colton?" A pleading song whispered into the mattress, hopeful lyrics rasped against the sheet. "Colton… Paddock?"
Lark.My mate, my Birdie.
Calling for me, asking for me.
Covered in blood and near death.
Jesus, it's fucking happening again.
Which is the last fucking thing I think before everything tilts, spins, then goes black.
Chapter8
Warm Unwelcome?
LARK
Two and a Half Days Later.
My eyes flutter open, or try to anyway, but my lids feel heavy and like they're glued shut.
And that's not good at all.
