Bounds Of Love (BWWM) #Wattys2018

Chapter 9

The wolves are loud now that they have given their warning and let themselves be known. They are unafraid to show us exactly where they are and demonstrate how we are outnumbered. It's a strange feeling, being predator turned prey. The potential stalking made me nervous, but the outright chase makes me want to throw up. Every turn of tires is accompanied by the thud of following paws.

I count 24 pairs of paws in total slapping the dirt behind us. Twelve fully trained defenders - wolves who guard the borders of pack territory - singling out one visiting family of three.

"How nice of the MiddleEast to provide such a large welcome party." I mutter sarcastically, hoping my parents don't bring up the way my voice cracks.

Is this usual treatment for visitors?

It feels as if the world is closing in on me each second we are trapped by foreign wolves. Have I lead my parents into a trap? My lower lip begins to wobble and I find my hands shaking no matter how hard I try to keep them still.

Get a grip, Ebony.

We pull up to a two story house that stretches deep into the trees. The MiddleEast pack house. A pack house is the residence of the alpha and luna, who govern the pack, and their official aids such as betas and heirs. The house is a safe base for all those in the pack and under its protection. As such it's often the source of pack initiations, training, meetings and (of course) celebrations. In a city like this, where werewolves are believed to be no more than fantasy horror, it's also the only true safe grounds for an open shift.

Thank the Moon for small mercies.

I barely wait for the wheels on the car to stop spinning before I throw open the door, panting with the desire to shift and protect myself from the wolves hidden from view. There's a slam of a door close to me, then one further away, and I briefly sense my parents surrounding me in confusion.

"Baby girl, what's wrong?"

I whimper. A pathetic choked off sound that wheezes involuntarily through my trembling lips.

Overwhelmed. I'm overwhelmed.

My pack mates. Leaving. The hours long journey trapped in a contained space. The city. The wolves...

Everything blurs into one.

I let out a small cry that steadily builds into an uncontrollable sob. My vision loses focus like a dodgy camera. My heart begins to pound in my chest. Thump, thump thump, thump thump thump. Suddenly I find my hands holding my ears as an ear shattering sound resonates through the air.

The noise has my parents freezing in place. What is that? Have my eardrums burst? Are my ears bleeding? It takes me a second to realise its my screams...If you can call it something so inhuman a scream at this point. Why am I screaming?

I can't get air into my lungs. My mouth gapes open as I try to breathe. Then a fire spreads in my gums as my human teeth retract and sharp fangs take their place.

My skin starts to crawl, itching like a snakeskin ready to be shed. Reality sets in and my stomach curdles with fear.

Please, Selene, have mercy. Please no.

There are three types of shifts a werewolf can go through: The first shift (a hellish experience for all wolves), the regular shift (which is virtually effortless and painless) and the forced shift (also known as a blackout).

A forced shift happens when the human has no control over their inner beast. The pain is so intense the human "blacks-out" so to speak, leaving their wolf in full control of their body. Usually the wolf is harmless to all but woodland creatures who fall victim to its blood-lust. But the danger of a forced shift should never be underestimated. During the shift you can expect to be plagued by visions - night terrors of the most horrific kind - and to awaken to a throne of animal bodies with no memories of how your blood-lust was sated. And, if your wolf isn't strong enough to hold onto it's morality during it's sudden burst of control, you may just wake up to more than a dead rabbit.

A fellow wolf. A friend. A child.

In the throws of mad dominance a loose wolf is a danger to all. A forced shift has the potential to unleash an irrepressible madness.

I wish I was having a regular shift. Hell, I'd even accept reliving my first shift. And the Moon knows that was an experience I never want to repeat. But I'm going through a forced shift - a shift done only when the human has completely lost control in human form. I've never experienced it before, but those who have (and thankfully haven't attacked the innocent) condemn the experience. It's the most unnatural shift, being both longer and more painful than the first shift most wolves experience at the onset of puberty. The form we take on is also different to our usual wolf, more savage than beautiful. In other words, it's hell.

It's the loud crack of bones and a deep growl only capable of coming from my wolf that makes my shock-frozen parents resume action.

"Ebony!" My mums panic is clear. She stretches out a dainty hand to reach me, but my dad cautiously pushes her back with a growl of his own. His muscles coil in hopeless frustration.

"She needs to continue with the shift. It's too late to stop it." Then he turns his back on me, growling in warning at the foliage around us where the unknown threats lay. "Call your alpha and luna immediately!"

This isn't his pack, but the threat of a beta pushes the scouts into action. At the edges of my blurring vision I see a naked male rush into the house, no doubt getting their alpha. I open my mouth to tell him to stop. The alpha shouldn't see me like this - not if I want to be respected in this pack. But all that comes out is a squeal of pain.

Everything burns.

I wish I could use my voice, but my throat is slowly collapsing in on itself as my flesh and bones realign.

Mums eyes don't move from my panicked ones. She hovers to the side of me wincing as my bones slowly crack, one by one. First are my finger, which splay outwards at awkward angles. Then my wrists and legs simultaneously snap, bowing under the weight of my growing muscles and elongating hands. As my nose and mouth morphs into a snout tears spring into my eyes.

My shift is usually instantaneous, but my slip of control has pushed me and the wolf too far. Instead my shift seems to go on forever. Bones snapping, organs shrinking and growing, limbs rearranging.

The rumours are true. A forced shift is by far the most painful shift a wolf can ever experience.

My eyesight gradually sharpens in clarity and dulls in colour. My hearing enhances enough that I can hear the squish of blood in my body as each internal component shifts around.

I close my eyes for minute and almost pass out. When I open my eyes I'm face to face with a blue eyed stranger. I see a pale skinned women hovering above my pain wracked frame. Blonde tresses frame her soft face, which is wrinkled with concern. She glances over her shoulder after our eyes connect, yelling something I can't understand.

Who is she? I don't get time to figure it out.

As the shift works its way to my heart, stretching the organ to be three times its normal size, I black out.

Thank the Moon.

***

A/N

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