Storms don't last
forever.
"Wes, Wes!"
The storm was on a mission. To completely wear and tear at War's mental capacity. War was one of the strongest males in his pack, yet the storm was making him second guess his strength. The pack was desolate. No one outside, everyone hunkerin shown in their homes, hiding from the menacing storm that was terrorizing them.
He was the only one out and continued to pay the price as he held his mate close to his chest and bared the elements to try and get her some help. The pack infirmary was on the other side of pack lands. No where near the Alpha house. Kahn had it done purposely. The infirmary was on the outskirts for when they were coming back from jobs, or missions and were really fucked up, needing attention immediately.
At the time it was a great idea. They didn't have to drive into the heart of the pack just pull in and they were treated. Now, it was a problem. He knew a short cut through the woods and was taking it, but that wasn't helping much. It was dangerous.
Trees and their large limbs were barreling down from the sky, threatening to fall on he and his mate. It was cold too. Freezing rain it seemed like was falling from the sky, making it even more complicated for him to keep a hold on his mate and maneuver through he forest.
The lightning threatened him once more, and he began to lose his wits, stopping mid step to threaten the storm back. He bared his teeth before snarling out to the sky. He would not lose his mate to nature. He refused to.
"Wes!" He screamed out into the forest, seeing the infirmary coming into his hazy view. "Wes!" He shouted again, working his legs harder as he finally saw the silver lining in the storm.
Usually seeing the large cabin made him squirm. He hated stitches, setting bones in place, operations. Everything about the place made his skin crawl, but now he was ecstatic.
He quickly ran up the steps to the cabin and began to bang as if his life depended on it. "Wes! Wes!" He was roaring the doctor's name like it was his last hope while pounding on the poor door till it began to dent.
The door opened slightly and the pack doctor frowned, before his eyes widened. "Get in!" Before Wes had the chance to open the door slightly it flew open with a gust of harsh wind slapping into it. It took all of Wes's strength to close the door and bolt it shut.
"What the hell happened? It's like a damn hurricane outside," He complained as War began to press his ear into Pomelia's chest.
He snarled at Wes, with his stupid damn questions. "I don't know just fix her!" He snapped, feeling a minimal amount of relief as he heard his mate's faint heartbeat.
"Walk and talk with me. What happened?" Wes questioned as they passed the small waiting room and walked down the hall of the infirmary. There was a few pack members occupying some rooms but nothing nothing major.
"I...we had an argument and she tripped down a rocky slope," War fumbled, bringing his mate closer to his body. He felt so terrible.
Wes silently brought him into another room, that held a raised, long metal table in the middle of it. "Set her down." War wasn't sure why Wes's tone shifted to something cold, but he could care less. He just needed help.
War did as he was told, laying her cold and clammy body down before glancing to Wes. He had his phone to his ear. "Yes, Amaya I need some assistance. Bring something to settle ruffled feathers. Okay thank you."
He watched Wes quickly wash his hands before he threw on a white coat and then pulled long gloves over his hands. "What was the argument about?" Wes questioned as he began to examine his sweet, broken mate.
His eyes couldn't help but to fall on her lifeless body. He felt sick. "I...she's going to be okay, right?"
He could smell her blood too, now that they were out of the fierce storm. He was going to throw up. "I asked you why you two were fighting. I'm examining her head to toe, War."
At the sound of the door opening, he jumped. It was a short female with dark skin and hazel like eyes. It was Amaya, Wes's little cousin who was a trained professional just like her cousin was. She didn't treat men, only woman and her staring him down evilly, made War remember that.
"What did you do to this poor girl!?" She gasped as she rushed over to the table where Pomelia lay. She was already dressed in her white coat and gloves....and she had something else in her hands. "You fucking monster!"
"I-It was an accident," War tried to defend himself...but in the end he was just a monster. She was right.
Wes growled sharply at his cousin. "Amaya, shut your mouth and start assessing her. You're here for the patient, not him," Wes told her as he sighed, glancing at War and then removing his gloves. He slipped on another pair and grabbed something from Amaya'a hands.
It looked like a needle...but that didn't make any sense. "War, buddy I'm going to need you to step outside until we get done with her."
A strangled laugh passed through his lips. "She's hurt and my mate. No." If Wes thought War was going to abandon his mate he had another thing coming. He was not letting her leave his sight.
"I get that, I do. I just don't need your wolf trying to attack anyone because it mistakes us as a threat. Let us do our job. I promise once I find out everything I'll come out and talk to you."
War shook his head, glancing back to Pomelia. Amaya was incredibly close to her and had something shiny in her hands. It was a pair of scissors. War tried to be reasonable. He did. Amaya was here to help...she was. Then why was he suddenly charging towards her wanting to snatch them from her.
Amaya let loose a scream and dropped the utensils before War could grab them. Wes had struck a blow directly to his throat before he felt a sharp pain in the side of his neck.
"Don't hurt her!" He snarled wildly, wondering why on earth he felt weird. He fought off Wes's hands that were gripping him, pulling him down so that he could get to Pomelia. Make sure she was okay. Make sure Amaya didn't hurt her.
"We got her," Wes said behind him, pulling him backwards as War suddenly felt like he couldn't even move correctly. He started to panic. If he wasn't alert and awake bad things would happen. Flashbacks of his childhood began to weigh him down.
Going to sleep meant not being aware. Not being aware caused terrible things. He couldn't let anything happen to Pomelia. "Don't...hurt," he murmured slowly, feeling himself losing all of his wits. Was he dying?
"We got her and I got you big man. It's okay. Go to sleep. You'll wake up and she'll be all bandaged up and better. You'll...."
War fought hard to keep his eyes open and alert, but lost the fight...
"You better have a good fuckin' reason for hurting my cinnamon roll, daddy war bucks."
War awoke to the feeling of a light tap on his forehead. Blinking a few times, he saw a white ceiling before the palm of someone's hand was coming closer and closer to his forehead.
Thud.
War let loose a threatening growl as the palm came into contact with his forehead before it attempted at it again. "You idiot, you better have a good ass reason."
He felt as if someone had weighed him down in sleep and was not ripping off the weights. He felt terrible...one thing for sure was they these blows to his forehead weren't helping. After a few moments of aimlessly blinking and groaning, he began to feel different.
War's senses began to suddenly restore, and he grabbed at the hand before it could land a slap to him again. He gripped it tight, anger settling into his bones as he heard a feminine squeal.
He slowly looked to the side, to see who the hand belonged to. It was Jess. She was in nothing but an oversized t shirt and flip flops. She also reeked of alcohol. "Can you let me go?" She frowned as she tugged at her own hand.
"Why are you hitting me?" War snapped, looking around the room he was in. It was in an infirmary guest room... "Pomelia!"
He let go of Jess's hand and stumbled out of the bed. "Whew! War baby, that ass is looking good!" War confusingly glanced down at himself and groaned. He was wearing a hospital gown that wasn't tied in the back.
Whirling around, he glared at Jess. "Where's my clothes? Where's my mate?!"
The argument. The storm. An injured Pomelia and Wes! Wes drugging him! "Calm down. Pomelia is getting out of surgery from a fall? What the fuck happened? Amaya was ready to kill you in her sleep. I walked in at a good time ya know."
Amaya. War groaned. The female had been through things that War didn't fully understand but he knew that whatever it was, made her loathe any male except for Wes. She looked furious when she first stepped into the operating room and saw him. She thought he put his hands on Pomelia.
"War, what happened with Pomelia? Did I not just tell you, Amaya was ready to slit your throat in your sleep?!"
War sighed, raking his hands over his face. "She was angry and upset...about me killing and the storm....it came out of no where," he tried to explain to her. "She ran and I couldn't find her...she fell down a rocky slope....She was unconscious."
Jess sighed loudly. "Yeah she's banged up, real bad. I had Khan's phone when Wes called this morning and I decided to check on my little Pom but Amaya was working on her....she should be out of surgery now."
"You believe me?"
Jess snorted, placing a hand on his shoulder. " I saw you the other day when Pomelia lost her footing while walking. You asked if she was okay like ten frickin times. I know you didn't hurt her."
War felt a small sense of relief. Jess was nobody...but her opinion made him feel at least a little better. What she didn't say was that he still was responsible. She wouldn't have been in this mess if he would've just picked her up and went into the house. Well actually if he wasn't a monster, they wouldn't even be having that argument...
"Put on some damn pants and let's go see your mate." War quickly located where some fresh clothes were and quickly dressed. The pants were extremely tight, but he didn't have time for that. Not at all.
He and Jess made their way down the infirmary halls quickly, War following his mate's vanilla scent. His stomach was in knots. Jess mentioned surgery... She was probably in deep pain and nothing he could do would be able to stop it. Not to mention she was angry with him.
Pomelia was hurt physically and mentally by him. He couldn't face her...he would just make things worse. He drug her here, if it weren't for him she would be comfortable, happy with the priestesses at the temple. He was selfish...he didn't deserve her.
"Jess, can you just go in there...see if she's awake first?" He really didn't want to upset her. He rather a friendly face like Jess go in and see her, rather than him.
She sighed. "You're going to have to talk to her sooner or later but sure daddy war bucks."
War murmured a thank you before he paused dead in his tracks. The room Pomelia was in had a large door that was fully open. He could see her. She was crying....and casts littered her lithe body.
A deep pain settled in his chest as his mouth began to water. He really did break her. He did this. He couldn't do anything right. "Let me go see her."
Jess left him alone, in the hallway, trying to grapple with his emotions. He never felt such a severity in his mood. War hadn't experienced such emotions since he was a child and it ate at his insides.
He began to shake, trying to get a hold of himself. War felt like he was on the verge of breaking... before a hand gripped his shoulder tightly. It was Wes.
"You good man?"
War's sadness morphed into anger as he pushed away from Wes. "You...you drugged me!"
The man shrugged, giving him a look as if he could care less. "Yeah because my mission is to help the patient and I can't do that when you're about to attack one of my doctors. You wouldn't leave the examining room so I had to take certain measures."
War was still angry. Even though he made sense, he was just angry about everything. The whole situation he supposed. "Are you okay, though? You don't look good."
Like he cared about himself right now? "How's Pomelia?"
Wes stared at him for a few minutes longer before answering. "You said she fell right? You didn't hurt her...I know you didn't and I apologize for getting defensive last night. It was a lot of shit happening."
He physically didn't put his hands on her but he felt like he threw her down that slope. "Just...is she okay? Will she be...alright?"
Wes had a clipboard in his hands and began to flip through some pages. "Alright let me give you the rundown. Your mate is lucky. First thing is she has a dramatic ankle fracture. Fancy word for broken bone in a sudden impact. So her lateral malleolus is fractured. It was displaced so I did surgery on it to put it back into place to heal correctly."
Did War know what the hell those words were no? But he picked up on ankle, broken and surgery. "Her right wrist and forearm also in bad shape. I had to go in and align and some plates and screws in for her forearm. And her wrist is fractured but non displaced thank god so I didn't need to do any surgery on her-"
"-Will she fully recover?"
Wes put his hand up, obviously not done with what he was saying. "Some muscle tearing/strain, cuts and bruises. It's as if she's human but a little stronger so the healing time will be equivalent to a human female with strong bones. In layman's terms."
It was a lot and each thing Wes listed made War feel increasingly shitty. A long recovery time made him cringe. There had to be something that he could help with. Anything. "I can give her some of my blood. That'll...help right?"
Wes began to rub the back of his neck. "If she were a human and you gave her some of your blood yes, but she has lycan genes that are dormant. It's tricky with half breeds. Usually if a Lycan is sick with Lycan fever, or severely injured you can't mark or transfer fluids to them. Your blood may cause an involuntary shift on her end which would only injure her more. Her healing time ranges from 6-8 weeks. I would feel comfortable with giving her your blood once she's more healed. At say 4 weeks."
What was he supposed to do for four weeks? How could he help her if she was angry and upset with him? "Is she awake...? Did she uh...say she hates me?" War wasn't ready for her rejection. Not at all.
Wes gave him an odd look. "And that my friend is the last thing I wanted to talk to you about."
"Why must my father be an idiot, an imbecile! I asked him to scare them with a little storm not half kill them!"
Makaria cringed at the thunderous anger that her goddess was exuding. Now she understood how the almighty Zeus was her father at times like these.
Artemis had requested her father to make a simple storm, but instead he made a storm for the ages. It was a mini hell on earth storm for the poor souls that inhabited the pack. Even if they were a pack of undesirables..
"I hope Pomelia's injuries will heal correctly. Weston did a good job," Makaria tried changing the subject. Artemis seemed ready to burst into pieces.
The goddess growled loudly. "I feel remorse for what my child has gone through. Usually I would not get this involved but I caused this storm." Now she was pacing and rubbing her chin in thought.
Makaria gave her goddess an odd look. "What will you do?"
"I will pull a favor from Mnemosyne and have her alter a few things. Pomelia should not have to go through physical and mental pains. I will eliminate one!"
Makaria grimaced. This was going to be an interesting time for Warren, and most definitely Pomelia. She just hoped all the goddesses input did help them in the end...
*****
Artemis means well, I promise.
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