Midnight Awakening

Fallon’s POV

"Help!" I whimpered. My fingers clawed blindly at the thin hospital sheets.

The digital clock on the wall flashed midnight. My eighteenth birthday had officially arrived, but there was no celebration. An agonizing, all-consuming fire suddenly raged through both of my legs. The pain was blinding. It stole the breath right out of my lungs.

I expected the shift. I expected my bones to break to form a wolf. Instead, my dormant abilities kicked into gear with a brutal, torturous physical reset. The bones in my legs—the ones shattered into jagged pieces from the car crash—began to snap and grind back into their proper places.

A raw scream tore past my lips. The dark hospital room suddenly flooded with harsh fluorescent light. Doctors frantically rushed through the door.

"Hold her down!" a nurse shouted.

They swarmed the bed. Needles pierced my arms. They tried to pump me full of sedatives, but the medication did nothing. The burning fire in my marrow only burned hotter.

"What is going on?" Alpha Vander's booming voice shook the room.

He violently shoved a doctor out of his path. His large frame loomed over the foot of my bed.

"Her bones are trying to reset!" the doctor called out, stumbling back from the Alpha's sheer force.

"Why now?" Vander yelled over the top of my agonizing screams.

"It is past midnight. She is eighteen. Her wolf is trying to correct the trauma!"

Another sickening crack echoed in the room as my left femur forcefully aligned itself.

"Then help her!" Vander demanded.

"We can't do anything! This is her wolf taking over!"

"Make it stop!" I begged. Tears streamed in hot, heavy tracks down my face. The agony peaked. This was infinitely worse than the impact of the car accident. The crash had given me the mercy of shock. This was pure, unadulterated torture.

Vander lunged forward. He immediately grabbed my flailing wrist.

The instant his bare skin made contact with mine, an intense wave of electric mate-bond sparks erupted across my flesh. The sensation shocked my system, fighting against the pain.

I tried to rip my hand out of his grip. I did not want him touching me.

"Fallon, look at me."

His voice dropped into a powerful Alpha register. It was a command that vibrated in my teeth.

His large hand shifted, gripping my jaw to hold my thrashing head still. His deep cobalt eyes locked intensely onto mine. The sheer power radiating from his gaze exuded an oddly calming weight. It anchored my frantic mind. I could not pull my eyes away from him.

"I promise, it will be over soon," he commanded softly.

The pain shifted, crawling viciously from my legs up into my lower spine. A massive wave of nausea built in my stomach. The room began to spin rapidly. The intense agony finally pushed my brain past its limit. The edges of my vision blackened. I let the darkness pull me under.

I woke up disoriented. The sterile hospital smell was gone.

My eyes fluttered open. I stared up at a high, vaulted ceiling. I tried to shift my weight, but a sharp tug on my right arm stopped me. I yanked hard. Cold metal clanked. I looked up and found my wrist firmly cuffed to a thick metal headboard.

"Crap," I muttered.

I rattled my arm again, testing the restraint. Even with my newly awakened wolf blood, I was physically drained and weak. The cuff did not budge.

I scanned my surroundings. The bedroom was massive but sparsely decorated. Blue curtains draped over large windows. An oak dresser sat against the far wall. Through an open door to my right, I heard the faint sound of running water.

Then, I realized something else. The pain was gone.

I hesitantly moved my right leg under the blanket. Then my left. No cast. No brace. No fire. I pushed the blanket away. My legs were completely, miraculously healed. The jagged bruises and swelling had vanished.

The bedroom door clicked open. Vander sauntered into the room.

"Good Morning!" he announced.

He wore a casual pair of dark joggers and a smug grin. He perched himself on the edge of the large mattress, beaming with an arrogant pride.

"Happy Birthday!" he added, his blue eyes shining with sick amusement.

"Fuck off!" I snapped viciously. The healing process might have fixed my bones, but my hatred for this man was entirely intact.

His playful demeanor vanished in a split second. The blue in his eyes darkened to a stormy, dangerous shade. A low snarl slipped past his lips.

"You need to watch your language," he warned. His voice turned hard and cold. "I tolerated it when you were hurt, but it has to stop now. You need to learn to do what you are told!"

I clamped my jaw shut. Pushing him right now while chained to a bed was a tactical error. He gave a firm pat to my healed thigh, treating me like a submissive pet, before pulling his hand back.

"My legs don't hurt," I mumbled. The shock in my voice was hard to hide.

"They shouldn't," he replied. "Not now that you have healed."

I wiggled my toes. A sudden, sharp pressure in my lower abdomen reminded me of basic biology.

"I need to use the bathroom," I demanded.

Vander narrowed his eyes. "No funny business."

He pulled a small silver key from his pocket and unlocked the heavy cuff around my wrist. I rubbed the red skin and scrambled off the bed. I bolted straight for the ensuite bathroom. I stepped inside and forcefully slammed the heavy door shut.

Before the latch could even click, Vander aggressively shoved the door wide open. It slammed into the tiled wall with a loud bang.

He stood in the doorway, crossing his muscular arms over his broad chest.

"Door stays open," he ordered.

"Are you serious?" I yelled, mortified. "I have a right to privacy! I am not allowed to piss in private?"

Vander smirked, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. He made no move to turn his head. "There is nothing I haven't already seen before."

The arrogance in his tone infuriated me. He actually chuckled under his breath, retreating just a few steps back into the bedroom, leaving the door wide open.

I finished quickly, humiliated and enraged. I washed my hands and stomped out of the bathroom.

"I have a right to privacy," I seethed, glaring daggers at his face.

"You have a right when you have earned it," he laughed coldly. "Until then, you do as I say. Got it?"

My hands curled into tight fists at my sides.

Vander seamlessly closed the distance between us. Before I could throw a punch, he grabbed my arm. The same electric sparks buzzed wildly where his skin touched mine. He dragged me right back to the mattress. In one swift motion, he forced me down and firmly cuffed my wrist back to the metal headboard.

"You are such a bastard," I hissed, desperately trying to ignore the lingering heat radiating from my trapped wrist.

"What the hell do you want from me?" I demanded.

He leaned over me, planting his hands on the mattress on either side of my body. "You will be my mate. You will stand by my side and you will do as you are told."

The absolute authority in his voice made my stomach twist. I gathered the saliva in my mouth and spat defiantly right at his chest.

The remaining humor drained from his face. His large hand shot forward and wrapped tightly, dangerously around my neck. He did not crush my windpipe, but the threat was crystal clear. His thumb rested heavy against my pulse point.

"Try that again and see what happens," he growled.

He leaned in close. His breath fanned across my cheek. His eyes dropped to the skin of my neck right where his hand held me down.

"I could just mark you right now," he claimed possessively. "Make you mine whether you like it or not. You have always been mine."

I refused to back down. I tilted my chin up, straining against his grip.

"Who wants an old man like you?!" I snarled.

I knew human Alphas my mother met were usually in their forties or fifties. Even though Vander did not look it, I wanted to hit his pride.

That specific insult clearly struck a nerve. His grip loosened slightly. He snapped back defensively.

"Old? I am twenty-seven. I was twenty when I became the King of Alphas."

He let go of my neck and pushed himself off the bed. He scowled, clearly irritated by the jab at his age. He marched toward the bedroom door.

"I have pack meetings to attend. I will be back later to celebrate your birthday."

"I don't want to celebrate it," I fired back. "Least of all with you."

He let out a low growl and stormed out, slamming the door shut behind him. I slumped against the pillows, rubbing my throat. I needed a way out of this packhouse.

*Don’t try anything stupid!*

His deep voice suddenly rumbled directly inside my head.

A terrified shiver ran directly down my spine. I gasped, looking around the empty room. The mind-link. It was already firmly in place. He could speak to me, and worse, he could monitor my thoughts. If I tried to run or formulate a lie, he would know immediately. I stared at the heavy locked door.

I was fucked.

While he was gone, I sat in the quiet room and surveyed my prison. My eyes landed on the bedside table. A large stack of thick fantasy books sat right next to the lamp. The one on top was the charred, damaged paperback his Beta had pulled from my crashed car.

I reached out with my free hand and traced the ruined cover. It was a surprisingly kind, attentive gesture. It directly contradicted the ruthless, bloodthirsty Alpha image my mum had spent years warning me about. Why would the tyrant who slaughtered my pack care if I had reading material?

The lock on the door clicked.

Vander strode into the room. He did not even bother to look in my direction. He walked straight toward the bathroom, casually grabbing the hem of his dark t-shirt and pulling it over his head.

He tossed the shirt aside, exposing his broad back. I froze. A massive, intricate tattoo covered the entirety of his back. Black ink twisted over hard muscle. But what caught my breath was his left side.

A series of deep, horrific scarring ran aggressively along his ribs. The thick, jagged tissue looked like it had been shredded by massive claws and healed poorly. The brutal marks stretched down until they disappeared beneath the waistband of his joggers.

He turned the shower on. A minute later, he reappeared in the doorway, his bare chest putting his raw physical power on full display.

"Get into the shower," he barked.

I did smell like hospital antiseptic, sweat, and fear. But I was not going to obey him.

"Maybe later," I glared. I defiantly slammed my fantasy book down onto the mattress. "You can't make me do anything."

A low, vibrating rumble started deep in his chest. His cobalt eyes locked onto mine. He pulled the silver key from his pocket and stepped toward the bed. He quickly unlocked my cuffs.

For a brief, stupid second, I thought he was giving up.

Instead of granting me freedom, he lunged. His strong arms wrapped like steel bands around my waist. He forcefully yanked me off the mattress. I collided hard against him. He pressed my back flush against the hard, scarred muscle of his bare chest. The sheer heat radiating from his skin burned through the thin fabric of my clothes.

"You need to learn to listen, Fallon," he growled right into my ear. "You need to learn when to keep that mouth of yours shut!"

"Let go of me!" I shrieked, thrashing wildly.

He ignored my protests. He ruthlessly dragged me, fully clothed, straight into the bathroom and shoved me under the running shower.

Freezing cold water cascaded down from the showerhead. It instantly soaked through my shirt and pants. The icy shock stole my breath. I kicked his shins. I screamed at the top of my lungs. I twisted violently, trying to claw my way out of his iron grip.

Vander held me firmly in place beneath the freezing torrent. His wet skin pressed intimately against my drenched clothes. His arms caged me in.

As I thrashed wildly against his solid frame, the cold water plastered my hair to my face. I panted, my chest heaving against his arm. I suddenly realized the real problem was not the freezing water soaking my clothes.

It was the overwhelming, electrifying intensity of his bare skin against mine. Every point of contact sent hot waves of electricity shooting straight to my core. My heart pounded a frantic, heavy rhythm. The dominant way his large hands held my wet body was doing something undeniable to me. Despite the hatred boiling in my blood, a terrifying physical attraction flared to life in my veins. My body was betraying my mind.