Unchained

Chapter Twenty-Three

"I suppose I'm in the castle, then?" She swallowed her distaste and looked him dead in the eye.

"Yes, now Demerce said for to stay on bed rest for — "

       "Fuck bed rest. I'm leaving." She threw back the covers to bed and stood on shaky legs, ignoring the growls opposite of her that gradually grew louder.

           She shuffled into the adjoining bathroom, pushing out all of the brightness that flowed from the entire room, she just wished someone would cut off the gods damned lights. Slamming the bathroom door shut, Lym made her way to the lone mirror.

            She looked like shit.

         There was no other way to put it, from the purple bags underneath her eyes to her skin tone that rivaled an albino. Her usual messy dreaded braided was a mop of tangles and knots, not to mention the lifelessness it held. She would have to cut it soon if it would not untangle. Her cheekbones were pronounced, sharp enough to cut glass, not in a healthy way.

Looking down at her hands, she was greeted with bony alabaster flesh. Lym frowned in distaste, she looked like a walking corpse. The crease between her brows deepened further when she dropped her gown. Where the festering wound had once been was jagged, silvery skin, her nostrils flared in irritation.

A sweep of emotions swam through her, worry and paranoia. Confusion quickly settled in, these were not what she was feeling, not by a long shot. The strange emotions steadily grew stronger, just as her wolf did.

What crawl up your ass? Lym muttered to her wolf.

A snap greeted her, her wolf was clearly agitated.

It's not me, you bitch. Lym narrowed her eyes at nothing. Then they widened.

A rock felt as if it dropped in her gut. Her legs shook, she grabbed on to the sink for support, waves of shock traveled through her. She could not bring herself to look in that one spot, she knew if she did an uncontrollable anger would take over her. But it was impossible not to look, like a Siren's call, it drew her in.

Irritated, swollen flesh that had clearly been torn through with Wolf teeth. It didn't take a genius to figure out the culprit, but in that moment it didn't matter, she just wanted to touch it, as disgusting as it sounded. A marking is a sacred symbol in Wolf culture, it was the art of showing love and protection to your significant other, but in her case, she didn't want to be marked. Although she didn't take a fancy to it, she knew it would heal nicely.

But then it felt as if a tidal wave of scalding hot water came over her. She was being doused in her own anger, she saw nothing but red although her eyes had turned a stunning silver. Lym clenched her jaw so tight she feared she would break her jaw, she took a deep breath and slipped on the hospital rob and tied it closed.

Opening the door, her hand squeezed the metal handle just a bit too hard, causing it to dent. Not to mention the hole that was in the wall from how hard the door hit the wall. If you didn't know any better, you would think she was calm, ignoring the fact that she barely touched a door and destroyed two things.

The white and juniper green tiles were cold against her bare feet, although she did not care much for it. She quickly found her mate, his large frame took up most of the horrid couch he lounged on. His form was slouched over, elbows rested on his knees with his head hung low, his long fingers intertwined with each other, twisting nervously. Her mate had every right to be nervous. She was sure he felt each wave of emotion that came through her.