I'm not Your Bloody Mate

Chapter 20

Not edited. 

Chapter 20

Conner’s POV:

Pain. That was all it was. Just pain. Nothing else. My entire life had turned into an endless torture session, and I couldn’t escape.

I was pretty sure I was asleep. Maybe I had fainted? It didn’t matter. I could feel it anyway. It felt like someone was skinning me, before they turned and twisted my organs, and then sewed my skin back on. And it happened again, and again, and again. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t think, and I couldn’t wake up. I couldn’t even breath. It was like my lungs refused to take in air. But then again, the dead don’t need air, do they?

That was my theory. I was dead, and I had probably gone to hell by the looks of it. The details about my death were still fussy. When I concentrated I could see the picture of Logan’s dead body, but I couldn’t be sure. I wasn’t really in any position to think, after all.

After something that seemed like an eternity, I realized that the pain was getting duller. I was pretty sure it was getting duller, at least. There was a chance that I was just getting used to the pain, but it didn’t really make much of a difference.

Soon my senses started to come back, and I understood that I had been right. I was getting better. It started like a faint buzzing, but after a while I could make out something that had to be voices. I didn’t understand their words, but it was a step in the right direction.

“…Considered what the council might do to you?” The voice sounded slightly familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. I was pretty sure I had just heard it a couple of times. Maybe some distant relative?

“I don’t care,” someone answered. “Letting him die wasn’t an option.” I had a feeling I should know this voice, no matter the circumstances. It was someone close to me, yet the name just wouldn’t come. It was like all my memories had been wiped out.

The first voice started to speak again, but the darkness pulled me inn before I could separate the words.

The pain was gone when I woke up again. Actually, I couldn’t feel anything, which was strange. Not the temperature in the room, my own breathing or the presence of my pack members. The last one was the most disturbing. I could always feel the presence of my pack, no matter where I was. You usually couldn’t make out anyone’s exact position, but you could always be sure that they were somewhere.

For a moment I considered the possibility of them all being dead. That would explain the emptiness in my head. But even though a great deal of wolves had died in the war, everyone certainly hadn’t. I knew for a fact that at least the wolves Valentina had sent away were safe and sound.

War. Valentina. The words had popped up in my head as easy as anything, yet the thought disappeared as soon as it had come. It was extremely frustrating, almost like trying to catch smoke with your fingers. No matter how many times you tried, you just couldn’t get a hold of it. It would just slip through your fingers like you weren’t even there.

I decided to give up on my memories and concentrate on the things I knew instead. My name was Conner Emerald. I was eighteen years old, and a werewolf of the Bloody Moon pack. My parents… Don’t think about it.

My parents were… No.

My parents were…

“Dead.”

I spoke the last words out loud. My voice sounded hoarse, like I hadn’t used it in ages. Maybe I hadn’t. It didn’t matter, anyway. My memories were coming back like an unstoppable tide. Finding Valentina. My parents’ death. The war. An Ambush, and then… Will. Don’t think about that either.