Filed To Story: Secret Shifters Next Door Series PDF Free
My panther yowled in my head, loud enough for me to flinch. A surge of soul-rending agony burst through me. I grunted and grabbed my chest. Was it a panic attack? A heart attack? The pain didn’t stop. It crashed over me, wave after overwhelming wave. My panther hissed and cried, and tears I couldn’t hold back anymore started to seep out of my eyes. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. Every action hurt. Bad.
I slowly sank to my knees, both hands clutched to my chest, rocking back and forth as I tried to ride out the pain. Finally, I managed to gasp in a breath, but that only made the pain worse. The icy-hot searing sensation went so deep into my core that I couldn’t even pinpoint where it started or ended. It had to end. I needed it to end.
Unable to talk, I sent a thought out to my panther.
How do I stop it?
It responded an instant later.
Mate.
I clenched my teeth, ignoring the searing agony.
No.
TEN
AVA
As I backed out my driveway, I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Blayne collapse to his knees. He had his hand on his chest and a look of pure anguish marring his face. I slammed the car back into park and jumped out, running across the street.
“Blayne? Are you okay?” I asked as I neared his prone form.
He raised the hand on his chest to wipe at his eyes and shook his head. “I’m fine. I’ll be okay.”
His tone worried me more than I’d been when I’d seen him writhing in pain. The only way to describe it was
hollow. He sounded absolutely broken, almost like he was already dead inside. It was the saddest sound I’d ever heard.
“Blayne, you don’t sound okay. Let me help you up.” I reached out a hand to him, but he shook his head.
“I’ll be all right. Don’t worry about me. I can handle this.”
“You’ve been saying that for over a week now. Maybe you should see a doctor?” I offered.
A dry, humorless laugh burst from his lips. “No doctor can help me with this. It’s not the type of sickness that can be healed with medicine.”
“Well, there has to be something that can be done. I know mate rejections are rare, but surely over the centuries someone
has come up with some kind of treatment, right?” I asked. “Shifters don’t suffer the rest of their lives after a mate rejects them, do they?”
Guilt slid over me like a heavy blanket. I’d caused this. My words had ripped something out of him, possibly destroyed some deep part of him. The idea that he was irrevocably damaged sickened me. If I’d known it would be this bad would I have still done it?
Could I still have done it? No matter how much of an asshole Blayne was, he didn’t deserve this.
He finally began to stand and I bent to help him. He was too tired to push me away and allowed me to put an arm under his shoulder and help him stand. Blayne must really have felt like shit. It was the closest we’d ever been to each other in our entire lives. Heat radiated off him like he had a fever.
His steps were heavy and clumsy, and he winced every few seconds as I helped him to his house. I nearly toppled over as he leaned his weight onto me when we went up the steps. Once inside, Blayne collapsed onto the nearest thing he could find, which luckily ended up being his sofa.
He covered his face with his hand and mumbled to himself. “I never thought it would be this bad.”
The words were said so soft that I barely heard them, but I did.
“Let me get you something. Hang on,” I said.
I went to his kitchen, intent on making him some tea or coffee, but the containers were empty. Thinking he might have something to drink in his fridge, I pulled open the door. It looked barren except for a jar of pickles, a few bottles of condiments and dressings, a bag of deli meat that looked like it was covered in slime, and a pack of cheese that had grown a fuzzy coat of mold.
“Jesus, when’s the last time you got groceries?”
Blayne shrugged and laid his head back on the couch. “I haven’t had much of an appetite.”
Closing the fridge, I walked back over and knelt in front of him. He looked gaunt, as if he’d lost weight. “How have you been sleeping?”
He shook his head. “I haven’t. Maybe three hours here, two hours there. Sometimes I don’t sleep at all.”
“I think you’re depressed. You or your panther or both.”
I’d gone through something similar when Liam died.