This Dark Wolf (Soul Bitten Shifter #1) - Everly Frost Page 0,27
right… I’ll break away.
I will use everything Tristan gives me to kill Baxter Griffin. On my terms. As a free woman.
If Tristan stands in my way, I’ll end him too.
Chapter Seven
The next morning, I wake to the sound of birds. The soft tweeting breaks through the pain that shoots through every part of my body.
Damn. Whatever magic Helen used on me last night to numb my wounds, it’s disappeared, leaving me aching and sore.
Slowly opening my eyes to the early morning sunlight filtering through the tree branches overhead, I assess each part of my body: arms, legs, chest, and face. The worst pain is in my head and my ribs.
Slipping quietly from beneath the blankets, I allow the sunlight to shine across my bare legs and thighs. They are the least bruised, although my multiple falls to the ground yesterday left me with yellowing patches of skin across my thighs.
Focusing beyond myself, I find Ella sitting on the edge of her bed opposite mine. She’s dressed in a long, white shirt that reaches her knees while her blonde hair drapes across her right shoulder.
Her left arm is bent at the elbow, her hand raised with fingers splayed. Three brilliantly-colored canaries circle her head and hand, dipping toward her fingertips in turns. She follows their movements with her eyes but doesn’t otherwise move.
Each time one dips toward her fingertips, she whispers its color. “Pink… blue… yellow… blue… pink…”
She doesn’t seem to notice that I’m awake, but her focus appears sharper, her gaze following the birds’ paths as they rise, soar, and dip again.
I could find her repetitive speech irritating, but her voice is soft and melodic. It carries a hum, as if she were once a trained singer and her vocal chords are trying to remember how to sing again.
I also recognize the therapy of making lists, the way simple things can keep fears at bay. I have no doubt the birds are a deliberate part of the environment that Helen has created for Ella. Casting a glance around, I wonder whether there will be special additions for me, but I can’t see anything different since last night.
After wrapping myself in a towel last night, I grabbed an oversized T-shirt from the closet and crawled into bed, nursing my new resolutions close to my heart. I have no idea what my path to revenge will involve, but I know where I’m determined it will take me: to Baxter Griffin, ruthless alpha and the man who killed my father.
My heart squeezes inside my chest, but I push my sadness away as hard as I can, locking it up again. I don’t need grief. I need anger, the quiet kind that simmers and grows, that will make me single-minded and fearless.
A gentle breeze picks up around me, bringing with it the scent of a new day. Despite my inability to sense anyone around me, it seems that I can still use my human senses to smell and see what’s around me. Resolving to move through the pain in my body, I rise to my feet and carefully stretch out my arms.
The sight of a fresh plate of food resting on the small table at the foot of my bed forces me to acknowledge how hungry I am. Aida must have brought it for me. I’m sure there was a different plate of food there last night, but I fell asleep as soon as I crawled into bed.
After filling up on toast, fruit, yogurt, and a glass of orange juice, I test my legs and make my way to the closet to consider my clothing options, hoping for loose jeans and flannel shirts like I’m used to wearing. Not to mention, I won’t be able to handle anything tight around my body for at least the next few days.
Opening the closet, I narrow my eyes at the full array of every kind of jeans and every color flannel shirt I could possibly wish for. I suddenly wonder to what extent the contents of this closet are predetermined by Helen or whether the clothing is influenced by my wishes. Last night, I hoped to find a soft, loose shirt and it came immediately to hand.
Deciding to test my theory, I close the closet again, concentrate on the doors, and think hard about little black dresses. Holding my breath, I open the cupboard, but it’s still filled with jeans and flannel shirts.
It’s definitely for the best. I have absolutely no use for little black dresses.