Chapter Two

It took Alexander a few seconds for his mind to catch up with his body and for him to fully understand what was happening.

One minute he was pressing down on a man, and the next the world around him was tilting and he was absolutely losing his grip.

He staggered in place, and unable to hold back, fell on top of the human, totally crushing him, so that even In his state of disorientation, he was able to do harm to his enemies.

But he was so unaware of everything that was happening to him.

Voices, he heard voices, but he didn’t fully understand anything that was being said, and how could he, when those bleeding hunters had deemed it fit to pump him with more Silver than he had experienced in all his life?

A woman. A woman muttering words unknown to him and a dog, lapping at his face.

Heaven. Was he in heaven?

He didn’t think so, not with all the pain he felt in his body. Not with how completely drained he was, with all that silver flooding his bloodstream.

But he wasn’t dead. If he were dead, then he’d be numb.

The face of the woman came into view and even in all his confusion, he was taken aback by her beauty. She was a fair woman, with wild curls bound up on her head. She had a stubborn mouth and eyes that held so much wisdom and spoke of many powers.

But it was her voice that stayed with him even as he fell into abysmal darkness,

“Sleep now,” she crooned, running a hand over his head, “for when you wake, all shall be well.”

~•~•~

He woke in a room that was lit by various candles. He remembered it was still wintertime, but inside the room was warm.

He looked around trying to make sense of it all. This wasn’t his room back at Derbyshire.

So where in the world was he?

He tried to sit up, but every square inch of him hurt with the movements he made until finally he gave up and laid back down.

Should he call out?

Surely someone must have brought him there.

For one suffering moment, he panicked, considering the possibility that it was indeed the humans that had brought him there.

But there was no way that he would be in a bed, surrounded by lush pillows if it were to be his enemies that had brought him to that place.

He breathed through his anxiety and decided that whoever it was that had brought him to that place would have to show up sooner or later. He only hoped that whenever it was, that they chose to show up, he would have regained his strength.

~•~•~•

The man had been asleep for nearly Thirty-six hours.

Thirty-six Hours!

She knew it took a while before the silver toxin perspired out of the average werewolf and it usually best occurred while they were out cold. But she had expected him to have been awake already.

But still, he slept, and she had no choice but to let him sleep, for rousing him would be detrimental to the process of being detoxified.

So she let him be, checking in on him hourly to change his positions to avoid bed ulcers. Those were other kinds of killers. Bed ulcers were.

She checked her dial and wagered thirty minutes more before she checked on him again and took the remaining time to prepare some tea and brew some herbs.

The herbs were to be kept in the man’s chambers to keep the dark spirits at bay.

She knew he was a long way from home and only heaven knew what could have happened to make all those human hunters go after him. The spirits had left her uninformed. But she had lost her sense of anxiety, however.

She was pouring some water into her cup when Dante came to her and rubbed himself against her leg,

“Is it time to check on him then?” For he always came to her when the new hour had ticked. She reached for the dial and checked it.

“Ten minutes to the hour, Dante.” She said and went back to mixing her tea, but sighed when he only rubbed at her again.

She reached over and scratched at his head, “But what difference will Ten minutes make, huh?” She said smiling and walked with him to the room where she had left the man to heal.

~•~•~

“You’re awake.” The woman said and Alexander looked up to watch her. She was the same woman he had seen before and had believed her to only be a dream, a fragment of his imagination.

But there she was. Real and in flesh. And so had she been the one who saved her life?

“You’re real.” He said and his voice sounded to him like a toad’s croak. Raspy and broken.

“Excuse me?” The woman asked, amused.

“Or maybe, I’m hallucinating,” Alexander said, closing his eyes.

She smiled warmly but kept her distance. It was the dog who chose to be friendly and went to the man, looking deeply at him, Into him.

“I’m not an imagination, sir.” She said, as though reading his mind. “And I can assure you, I’m not a product of your Hallucinations, assuming that you have any. However, I do suppose you might be in some kind of pain.” She said kindly, removing his focus away from the dog, so that he looked at her, really looked at her. And she was even more beautiful than he remembered her to be. Somewhat… bewitching.

“Were you the one who saved me then?”

“It depends on what you mean by saving,” she said and shrugged. “I found you bleeding into the snow and brought you here to clean your wounds. With the help of Dante, no less.”

“Dante?”

“My wolfhound.”

He found that hard to imagine, but looked at the dog and thanked him, stringing a cord in the heart of the woman.

She could respect any man (or werewolf) who had respect for animals.

“What about the hu- the men?”

She looked at him, blankly, “what men?”

“The hunters?” She shook her head,

“I would remember if I saw any men. There were none but one. And that man was you.”

He heaved out a breath and decided not to think too much about the human troops. The story wasn’t adding up any longer. Those hunters were hell-bent on taking him. Dead or alive, and only heaven knew what had become of them.

He looked at the woman again, she didn’t strike him as any age older than twenty-six, assuming she was a day over Twenty. She had a slight build and a face that made you want to protect her. He found it hard to believe that she could have fought all of those humans. Something must have happened, and he had no idea what. But whatever it was, he was thankful for it.

And watching the woman open up a medicine box, an absolute stranger, who had taken it upon herself to be kind to another stranger, he was thankful to her as well.

~•~•~

She gave him her cup of tea and applied a balm over his body for the pain he had. She knew he had questions. It was written all over his face. But there was only so much that she could answer. Already, she had begun to lie and give half-truths, in hopes that he would be healed and on his way before finding out things he was not meant to know about her. These were things she hadn’t thought about and were all she could think about with him being conscious.

She placed the jar of balm on his nightstand and got up,

“I’ll go get you something to eat, you should be hungry,” she said and was visibly shocked when he held her hand, but schooled her expression when she looked in the eyes,

“Your name, miss. I didn’t get your name.” She looked at the spot where he held, his grip a bit strong for someone bedridden. He looked down at their hands and then let go, and when she did, she dusted at her skirts and nodded,

“Laylah. My name is Laylah.”