Red in the Blue

Chapter 8

The other line rang a few times before he picked up. I wondered how a man with as much authority as Cade had would answer the phone. I wondered if he knew it was me calling.

"Yes," was how he answered—an affirmation. You may begin speaking now. You have my attention. Yes.

"Cade? It's Lore."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and I thought I could hear some shuffling in the background.

"Lore. This is unexpected." His voice was tight and polite. A glimmer of warmth rippling over stiffness. For a moment, I reconsidered my options. I didn't at all want to need his help. But I didn't have any other options. And I did need his help.

"I know. This is awkward, but I actually need your help."

"Oh? How so."

I realized I had no idea how to say what I had to say. What did he need to hear to understand how serious this was? What was the shortest way I could convey the madness of the predicament I was in?

"There was an...incident," I said. "I've been bitten by another wolf. We weren't shifted. It's infected."

"Bitten?" He said sharply, "how did that happen?"

"Sort of a...fight."

"You find yourself in a lot of fights, Lore?"

What I found was that his vaguely snide tone was getting under my skin. I didn't want him to know I had a messy ex situation. It was embarrassing. But he seemed skeptical.

"My ex cornered me. He'd heard about you. Was jealous."

There was a tense, thick silence on the line.

"I see. Where is this ex now?"

"I don't know."

"Well. I'm sorry to hear you're not well," that charming, aloof voice returned. "Have you been to a healer?"

"That's why I'm calling. I'm really sick," I said, swallowing. What if he didn't help me? What if he had changed his mind since leaving? What if he hated me now, my stubbornness, my selfishness? What would I do if he said no?

"The doctor said," I tried again, "that the only way to make me well is for you to bite me."

"I'm sorry?" Cade's voice jabbed.

"I know, I know." I sucked in a deep breath, and it punched my head. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling tears behind my lids.

"She said I need my mate. She said only my mate can help, that you have to bite over the infected bite, that I need your claiming bite."

A beat of silence.

"You need me to claim you." He said evenly. A statement with a question beneath.

"Yes." I answered. Yes. Fuck. Yes. Horrific. Yes.

"There must be some alternative."

He could not say no. I felt like I was wrapped in clinging plastic and placed under a heat lamp, like I was too big for my body. The planes of my face ached, my limbs.

"Cade." My voice broke. "Please. I know this is the last thing you want to do. But please. I'm—" another choked back sob, and I had to speak more softly to keep my voice steady. "I'm really sick. It's really bad."

He sucked in a deep breath, and I tried to hold mine, straining to hear anything over the line, trying to imagine what he might look like, the expression on his face, his body language, trying to sense it. The longest stretch of silence yet passed between us.

"I want to speak to your healer," he said. "And I'll consult my pack doctor as well." My stomach dropped, but I tried to tell myself that a second opinion was a good thing, that my doctor had wanted to consult with colleagues too, that maybe someone else did know of another way.

"If they agree that this is necessary," he continued, "I'll have you on the first flight out."

"If they agree this is necessary?" I spluttered, straightening in my seat. "You think I've making this up just to see you?"

"No, I didn't say that."

Smug fucking bastard. His stupid, calm voice like he was talking to someone in hysterics.

"Why would I go to you?" I continued, pinching the side of my head as the rise in my voice caused my head to pull tighter, like the neck of a balloon twisted around. "I get that I'm not your favorite person in the world right now, but I can't imagine my doctor would want me traveling in my condition."

"She's just going to have to sign off on it. I can't get away right now."

"Do you want me to beg? Is that what this is about? Your pride? I wouldn't have called you if this weren't the most serious it could possibly be."

"You," he said lowly, tightly, "are not my only concern. I have a lot of responsibilities. I'll speak to your doctor, and I'll speak to mine. If they agree it's necessary, we'll book your ticket."

Tears pooled over now, rolled down my hot cheeks as I slumped with my head knocked back over the rear of the couch. I didn't know what to say. It was humiliating. The way it felt like he held my life in his hands.

"Okay."

"I'll be in touch. Take care of yourself, Lore."