Page 3 of Saved By the Moonlight (Spicy Teatime Shorts)
Chapter 3
Lily
M y sense of awareness returns, along with pain. An intense throbbing agony that pulsates through my body, causing every nerve to scream in protest. My limbs feel like lead, and every breath I take is labored and sharp, as if I’m inhaling shards of glass.
The world around me seems distant and hazy; it feels like I’m trapped in a suffocating nightmare. Every attempt to open my eyes or speak is met with resistance.
As I lay there, immobilized, I try to remember where I am. The smell of antiseptic and blood is strong, but the scent of cinnamon lingers around me as well. Oddly enough, it soothes me. The smell of cinnamon becomes stronger, then a second later, I feel a warm hand engulf my own.
Who is that?
A voice speaks to me, and it’s low, rumbly, but just as soothing as the scent. “Please wake up. Come back to me. I promise to give you everything you’ve ever wanted in life. There’s no way I can survive if I lose you so soon after finding you. Mate, please come back to me.”
Mate? Who is he talking to, and why is he calling me mate?
Blinking, I open my eyes a sliver and immediately regret it. They feel like someone has thrown sand in them. There’s a blurry shape of a person—a man, I think— in front of me. He’s holding my hand and leaning over me.
“Hi, darling.”
With a quick motion, he grabs a glass of water and brings it to my lips, inserting the straw so that I can take a sip. As I drink, my vision begins to clear enough to be able to take in my surroundings. In fact, it becomes so clear that I can see the smallest speck of dust from across the room.
“Where am I?” As I form the words, my mouth feels like it’s full of cotton wool.
“You are safe. You’re on my land. In our pack’s witch’s house, to be exact. She’s our healer. She saved your life. Now, tell me, who did this to you?”
Furrowing my brows, I ask, “What happened?”
“I found you on the side of the road, and you had been stabbed repeatedly. Do you remember anything?”
As I try to recall my journey home from work, my head aches. “I remember finishing work and driving home in the pouring rain.” I pause, trying to gather my thoughts. Everything feels jumbled. Finally, flashes of the night before come back to me. “There was a man on the side of the road. He had car trouble. I stopped and asked if he needed to call anyone or if I could help. He had a knife. Oh God, he… he stabbed me.” A single tear flows down my cheek at the memory.
The man’s hand tightens against mine, and I can see emotion warring in his eyes. There’s an urgency in his voice when he asks, “Do you remember anything else? Anything that could help identify him?”
“I remember laying on the cold hard pavement and hearing him open my car door. It sounded like mine because of the direction it was coming from, but I couldn’t move or lift my head to look.” My words come out panicked, and I start to fidget.
He reaches up and places his hand on my cheek, warmth radiating through his fingers. “Shh. You’re okay. You are safe here. What’s your name?”
As his fingertips glide across my skin, I feel a tantalizing tingle, like a surge of electricity, and I breathe out a single word, “Lily.”
Suddenly, exhaustion washes over me. Unable to hold my eyes open any longer, I allow sleep to pull me under, and I dream of the handsome stranger whose touch is like a balm to my soul.