Page 8 of Redeemed Wolf (Grim Wilds #4)

Chapter 8

Carter

Something was wrong with me.

I felt like I’d had ten cups of coffee, my entire body shuddering with unspent energy. My knee was bouncing under the desk, the vibration making it hard to get a good look at the sample under the microscope.

Sweat dripped into my eye, and I sat back with a frustrated huff, swiping it away with my sleeve. Why was I so sweaty? I’d been like this since last night, since… Silas. Had he done something to me? Slipped me a roofie or something?

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sandra peek over at me. She was no doubt under strict instructions to watch for anything weird and report back to my dad, and nobody wanted that. He’d end up hovering over me again.

Taking a deep breath, I focused on steadying my body. Except, with my focus on the physical, I let my mental guards drop.

Mate , the voice whispered.

“Dammit,” I cursed under my breath, rolling over to the drawer and taking out my pills. I’d made extra sure to take my dose this morning when I woke up, but for some reason, it wasn’t enough today. I shouldn’t have been able to hear voices, should’ve felt normal .

I’d never needed a second pill before.

I swallowed it without allowing myself to hesitate, then I got back to work. Until about five minutes later when my stomach began to cramp. I gripped my stomach, groaning.

“Carter? Are you okay?” Sandra called over, tugging out one earphone.

“Y-yeah, just… not feeling too well. I-I think I’m gonna be sick.” I lurched off the chair and bolted for the bathroom, but I already knew I wasn’t going to make it in time. I veered off and shoved my face in a trashcan, my insides becoming my outsides. The back of my throat burned from the bile, my core clenching to purge my stomach.

When I was finally done, I fell back onto my ass, struggling to catch my breath. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d thrown up. In fact, I wasn’t sure I ever had. Surely I would remember something this awful… right?

A wet cloth appeared in my vision, and I followed the arm up to Sandra’s worried face. “Better?”

“Y-yeah, I guess.” I accepted the cloth gratefully and pressed it to my overheated forehead, sighing at the cool relief. Maybe it was the second pill I’d taken. Had I accidentally overdosed? Dad said the pills were safe.

“What happened?” My dad came rushing into the room, crouching at my side.

I turned away, keeping my barf breath to myself. “I’m fine, just sick, I guess.”

Dad’s fingers gripped my jaw and turned my face toward him so he could look into my eyes. He hummed as he brushed my sweaty hair back from my forehead. “You’re awfully pale, and it feels like you might have a fever.”

“I feel like it too.” I tried pushing him away, and after a moment, he allowed it and backed up.

“Do you think you can stand?” he asked. He was wearing the frown I’d been seeing more and more often.

“Yeah, I think so. My stomach has settled. Whatever it was is out now.” I made a face, glaring at the garbage can.

My dad stood up and offered me his hand; it felt cold compared to mine. “Up we go.”

My legs felt shaky, and the room spun around me, causing me to reach out and grab the edge of the counter to catch myself before I could fall.

“That’s it, you’re going home for the day,” Dad declared. “And don’t even think of coming in tomorrow.”

“But—”

He shot me a look to cut me off. “No buts, and if you think for one second that you’re driving home, you are sorely mistaken.”

I groaned. “Please don’t leave work to drive me home. I’ll take an Uber.”

Dad sighed but relented, nodding. “Okay, but I’m paying for it.”

The whole way home, the Uber driver kept glancing at me in the rearview mirror, probably trying to gauge whether or not I was going to get sick again. That part was thankfully over, but I certainly didn’t feel anywhere near normal. My brain was a jumbled mess, more like scrambled eggs than the ordered, methodical thoughts I was used to. Physically I was just as bad, swinging wildly back and forth between hot and cold, my mouth dry, eyelids like sandpaper.

Thank gods I didn’t live with my father anymore. I needed somewhere dark and quiet where I could be alone. He would no doubt be checking up on me like the helicopter parent he was, asking all his questions about symptoms and what medications I’d taken. He would no doubt ask to do more blood work, maybe an MRI. Though I knew he loved me, sometimes I felt more like one of his science experiments than his son.

I was relieved when the car pulled into my driveway, and I mumbled thanks to the driver before staggering up the front steps. The driver waited to make sure I got in the door before backing out and driving off down the block.

Groaning, I headed straight up the stairs for the shower, peeling off clothes as I went. My skin felt too sensitive, like even the faintest whisper of fabric was too much friction. Cranking the water on, I didn’t even wait for the temperature to adjust before I stepped in, thrusting my head under the spray.

The water coursed down my chest and back, and my teeth began to chatter. Even with the water set to scalding, I couldn’t seem to get warm. Every bone in my body ached, like they were flexing under the skin, the joints threatening to pop out of place—but that was impossible! Bodies didn’t do that, just spontaneously changing shape.

I curled up on the bottom of the shower, knees to chest, and set my forehead on them, my breath loud in my ears. I could still smell the sick on my breath, even though I’d rinsed with mouthwash. My jaw hurt, my gums aching, and I swore I tasted blood.

“Why is this happening?” I moaned, gripping my wet hair in my fists.

As if in answer, the voice in my head whispered, Mate .

“What does that mean?” I growled, gnashing my teeth. “Tell me!” The voice didn’t answer, and so I repeated the word out loud, the one word that had been lingering at the fringes of my mind, haunting me. “Mate.”

My heart stuttered, and it felt like I was close to an answer, but I didn’t even know what the question was. The world just seemed so big and loud all of a sudden. I wanted to turn it all off.

Why was this happening? Why now? I’d been doing just fine for years, so what changed?

Clamping my hands over my ears, I tilted my head back and roared in frustration. It sounded almost like a howl…