Filed To Story: Traded To The Lycan King Novel (Colette & Merikh) by MG Wattsons
“Poor Hayes,” Colette exhales.
“Do you think he will be okay?” Percy asks, as he enters the room with a tray. He crosses in front of us, placing it down on the coffee table and then stands.
“I don’t know,” I admit, the very thought that Hayes might very well never recover looms over me. He is the sunshine-y one. The one with expert advice and who has been with me through my worst times.
“Eat,” Percy demands. But the very thought of food makes my stomach churn violently as I taste bile.
“Maybe a little later,” I mumble, trying to keep the bile from inching further up my throat as it burns its way up into my tastebuds.
“The only thing that kept me going the weeks after losing Penny is everyone forcing food on me.” He gives a tight-lipped smile and gesture’s to the plate. “I would say to go take a shower, but it seems like a pointless suggestion since I’ve said it at least six times and received no answer. So instead, eat. Both of you.”
“I’m not hungry,” Colette says softly, her voice sounding a little numb.
“Percy sounds more like he is demanding rather than asking.” I tell her and she blinks at the tray.
“Sorry, Alpha and Luna, but I won’t leave until you try something on the tray.” He insists. I shoot him a glare and he pretends to not see it as he looks away at a spot on the ceiling. Colette frowns at the plate of food, then her stomach lets out a raging howl for something to eat.
With a small sad smirk, I lean forward and grab a few slices of cheese and hand them to her, nibbling on my own.
“Alpha,” Calvin says gently, his eyes soft and full of sorrow as he steps into the living room. Colette and I jump up, her hand entwining with mine as we support each other.
“Well?” I ask him, a wad of cheese lodging in my throat as I try to swallow.
“He is alive, and it seems he will survive his injuries, but he…” he pauses and drags his hand down his face. “He will forever bear the scar of the dragon’s flame on his body.”
“Scarring is nothing compared to life.” I sigh in relief. Colette gives my hand a gentle squeeze.
“It is not his physical health that I am worried about, Merikh.” He says, lowering his voice. “He is in shock, I think, or something similar, and he refuses to speak or acknowledge anyone’s presence. It would be best to not press him anytime soon.”
“And Leandra’s body?” Colette asks.
Calvin cleans his throat and scratches the back of his neck in thought. Then he exhales deeply and shakes his head.
“Her death was not swift or painless. She suffered greatly before she died. It is my opinion that your beta was unable to stop what happened and witnessed it. His reserved and mournful state would make more sense.”
“He blames himself?” I ask him, licking my dry lips.
“Of course he does,” Colette says softly. “How could he not? It’s Hayes.”
I look between the two of them with me and then I chew on the inside of my cheek.
“Do you think he will recover fully over time?” I ask him, and Calvin shakes his head. “The only way to be sure is to wait.”
I groan as I crawl onto the plush bed, plopping down next to Colette’s sleeping body. My tired muscles twitch and tingle through me, from the hair on my head down to my toes. It doesn’t matter that I’ve napped, or that my brother has refused to see me. What matters is my body is finally ready to shut down, and the thought has never felt so alluring.
Colette rustles as she rolls over onto her back, her eyes trained on mine in the low light of the room. I rise onto my elbow, scooting closer with great effort, and she bites her lips in a restrained giggle. My brow arches with a smirk.
“Something you want to say, Luna?” I drop my voice low, reaching out and gently stroking her cheek.
“No, I just…” she pauses, looking at my face before meeting my gaze.
“What?” I ask a concern growing in the pit of my stomach.
“I just love you.” The words I have heard so many times feel different.
Maybe it’s the heaviness of the days or the fact that this moment has a looming cloud of heartache, but they are weighted. Each one punctuated with the simplicity of the statement, but the inflection of her voice, the sincerity in her eyes. There is no way I can or will ever doubt that she means it. I can see it, feel it.
“That’s convenient.” I smile, “I just love you, too.”
She giggles before she tugs at the blankets under me, prompting me to sit up.
“Do you love me enough to get off the top of the blankets so we can sleep?” She asks with a sweet smile popping on her face to convince me to move, but I see the veiled threat in it.
Colette may ask with her words, but her eyes are informing me I will be moving. I chuckle, rising up and crawling off the blankets before crawling under the silky textured sheets and heavy comforter.
“Now come cuddle me,” she demands.
My arm is already reaching out for her when she demands her cuddles, and before she can finish her sentence, I scoop her flush to my body. Colette wiggles into me, the back of her head pressing lightly to my lips. Her small body shudders in my arms and she presses into me further, silence coming over us as my eyes drift slowly closed.
“Thank you,” she whispers suddenly.
“For what?” I ask, my voice groggy and just above the whisper.
“In your arms, it almost feels like I can pretend.” She says.
“Pretend what?” I ask before realizing how dense the question is.
“That my parents are still alive. That everything is okay and we are safe.” Her voice breaks, as I hear a little sniffle. My heart falls to my feet and I lick my lips, trying to come up with anything I can to provide her comforting words.
“Everything is okay, Colette, and you are safe. When you are in my arms, you are safe.” I assure her, her breathing hitches. “They are really gone this time.”
“But my parents are dead.” She says as if she still can’t believe it.
“Yes,” I sigh, hoping I am answering these questions right for her. “So that you could be here safe in my arms,”
“I know it sounds selfish, because they sacrificed so that everyone could survive, but… Is it so wrong to wish they could be here too? Is that selfish?” I frown against her hair.
“Love doesn’t make you selfish, it makes you self less. Caspian and Melody could be selfless because of how much they loved you.”
“And now they don’t get to love anymore.” She says, her body now shaking in my arms as I squeeze her tight.
“Nah, I don’t think love dies that easily,” I whisper in her ear. “Love remains after someone is gone. It’s how we act, the ways we mirror them and the memories we cherish.”
She cries, nodding her head, “When did you get so good at this?” she asks me and I give a dry chuckle.
“I lost my parents, too.” I remind her and she turns in her arms, facing me.
“Was it hard?” She whispers, her cheeks glistening with her shed tears.
“Yeah, love. It was very hard,” I tell her and she gives me a soft smile that doesn’t meet her eyes.
“Let’s just sleep.” She says through a rising yawn. “Maybe there I can pretend they are still here.”
It doesn’t take long for her to pass out, her muscles relaxing in my arms and her body settling into me with a gentle pressing of working lungs. I stave off my exhaustion for a few more minutes, watching her sleep, allowing myself this moment of peace.
When she wakes, the depth of her grief will truly settle in and I don’t know what that will look like. I just know that tomorrow I will fight against grief on two fronts, my mates and my brothers.
I shoot out of bed, my heart pounding so violently my chest begs for reprieve. My weary eyes drift over to Colette, who pushes herself up as well, her eyes scanning the room.
The scream happens again, one that is full of agony and suffering. I move across the room, slipping into sweatpants before rushing to the door. My hand freezes on the doorknob, my fingers flexing before I look back at Colette.
“Go,” she urges me with sincerity. “Hayes needs you more than I do right now.”
With her blessing, I break through the door and sprint through the old pack house, hoping my memory is good enough to deliver me right to his room. But another cry breaks out this time, a softer, more painful whimpering as if he is screaming into a pillow.
I break through the door, my heart pounding as stare at the deformed and blistered left side of my brother’s back and arm. It doesn’t look nearly as raging in the very minimal lighting of the room, but there is no way it doesn’t cause him immense pain.
“Hayes,” I say, shutting the door behind me.