Frozen

Chapter 19 : Questions

Chapter 19

(Mercy's POV)

I'm so confused.

One second I'm lying on a hospital bed, and then the next I'm trying to kill Dace with claws and.... fangs?

Rye is lying on the ground with his head disconnected and Dace has bloody claws. (It wasn't to hard to figure out how that happened.) The funniest part was that, I couldn't bring myself to feel pain, anguish, guilt, disgust or hatred. All I felt was guilt. Wasn't he my other mate? Shouldn't I feel his pain or the loss of losing him.

Dace's eyes were fully black and he slowly walked towards me. Even though fear is a pretty foreign emotion to me, I still felt slightly intimidated and threatened. His beady eyes were locked onto mine and I must confess, I did step back once.

"My Mate", he growled lowly.

My eyes remained cold as I uttered the words that would surely bruise my ego,

"I'm your mate." I practically spat.

I could feel his alpha power coming off him in waves, but I stood firm and kept a steady glare.

I would not step down. Mate or not.

We were nose to nose when Dace's wolf finally let him take control again. He stumbled back and blinked rapidly as he was brought out of his haze. His mouth dropped open in surprise when he saw Rye on the ground. A smug look crossed his face as he glanced back at me with a certain possessiveness.

Dace got onto his knees and looked up at me with, fear, desperation and uncertainty. He softly cleared his throat,

"Mercy are you back? Do you remember me? Is that really you?"

Instead of answering I stomped towards him and swiftly kicked him in his stomach. Knocking the air out of him as he made a silent,"Oof" sound. I continued walking, ignoring Rye's body and Dace's pained laughter.

"It has to be you." He croaked gleefully,

Slamming the door behind me, I muttered

"Such a weak wolf"

Before storming down the hallway.

"The pup is starting to rub off on you. " my wolf snickered.

Allowing a tight, uncomfortably pull of the side of my lip, I marinated in the sound of her familiar voice, before saying,

"The boy is doing nothing of the sort."

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