A Hundred Whispers Make a Howl

Chapter 13

Shay nods her head slowly, solemnly. The look in her eyes is grim.

"I have to go." She says robotically, then swallows. "Now."

"Of course, I understand." My reply comes immediately; and I do, I really do, understand. I understand that someone else has lost their life. It is the only thing I understand in this moment.

"Do whatever you have to do." I tell the wolf. Anything, anything, to get her to stop looking at me.

I can't breathe with Shay's eyes on me. I can't think. My skin feels hot, too hot. My heartbeat is pounding in my ears, and my blood is surging through my veins in such a way that I feel delirious. There is too much sensation for me to handle. One of my hands cradles my forehead, while the other one clutches my throat. I am sitting in my seat with my knees pulled up to my chest, and my posture can only be described as defensive.

"Are you alright?" She is still looking at me.

"No." I answer truthfully, in a voice that shouldn't be calm but is. I don't recognize myself. I don't recognize my heart, my body, or even my own mind. What the fuck just happened? What the fuck had Shay done to me?

"Nikole-" Her voice draws nearer. I can hear concern.

"Please just drive." Again, a voice that is not mine. It is uncommonly clipped; too monotone, too cold. I want to rip my own tongue out of my mouth.  

By some miracle Shay listens to me, and shifts the car back into drive. In my head I offer a silent 'thank you' to God. I feel as if a great weight has been lifted from me once Shay's eyes return to the road. In the absence of that weight, however, a greater burden levels my shoulders. With Shay no longer gazing at me, I can think again. The return of my own functioning mind seems to send me spiraling into a secondary panic attack.

Someone is dead. Dead, dead, DEAD. Someone most likely killed by the same type of creature currently sitting stoically beside me in the car. A creature that acts as if she didn't just have her fucking teeth in my neck.

Had the victim known that sensation in their final moments, had they known the grip of a werewolf's jaws? Had they known the feelings of fear, of helplessness, that those jaws instilled? I want to run; run anywhere, any direction. I don't even know what I am running from, but that doesn't seem to matter. Nothing matters as long as I am running, as long as I am fleeing. I just want to get away! I just want to-

"Relax, Rabbit."

A command, given honey sweet. The order hangs like a cloying mist in the air...

I want to obey it.

Yeah. Relaxing would be nice; that's what I want to do. I feel my muscles go slack, and I slowly uncurl from my defensive posture. The hands that shield my face and throat fall limply into my lap as I slump into my seat. I am surrounded by feelings of warmth, of serenity, and of quiet strength. There is a sensation of being held by gentle hands: finger-tipped caresses gliding sweetly across the edges of my subconscious. 

Oh.

There are fingertips touching my body now, too. They feel equally as nice, like a feather-light security blanket. My head rolls languidly to one side so I can look at Shay, who watches me out of the corner of her eye. She has removed one hand from the wheel and placed it on my knee, where it rests without moving. The expression she wears is unreadable.

"Just relax." Her hand moves in tandem with the word 'relax'. Warm waves crash over me, numbing all sensations except pleasant ones. I feel like I am soaking in tepid water. The waves seem to radiate from Shay's hand.