Rising Storm (Westin Force #2) - Julie Trettel Page 0,14

dead long before I was born. There’s just something about his voice. I hope you like it.”

My eyes felt heavy as I listened to the crooning vocals. I fluffed the blankets and pillows and settled back down. I wanted to tell him thanks for the nest. It made me feel safe and I hadn’t felt that way in a very long time, maybe never. Normally I was a light sleeper and woke up numerous times throughout the night. Despite having slept under the effects of the drugs for who knew how long, I was ready for more sleep. Something told me I could relax and let myself actually sleep too. I knew my body needed it to heal.

I closed my eyes.

The next thing I knew, I was startled awake. It was dark outside. I had no idea how long I’d been out, but Painter was still sitting in the same chair. His feet were propped up on the bed and his head was back and he was snoring loudly.

I got up and went snooping around his apartment. In a closet near the bathroom I found a stack of blankets. I pulled them out with a smile and made a nest on the floor next to his chair. Carefully I lifted him and laid him down in the nest. It was something I could never have done in a weak human form. There were lots of benefits to being a gorilla.

Before I went back to my nest, I grabbed my cup off of the night stand. I was going to refill it, but found it was already full again. Next to it sat a plate of berries. I was suddenly starving. I ate them all and drank the entire cup of water.

I laid back down into my nest on the bed staring down at this mysterious man. He had the start of a beard that wasn’t there the first time I’d seen him. He looked tired and restless even in sleep. He’d cared for me while I was weak, and he had provided me a comfortable safe space to properly rest.

No one had ever cared for me like that before, not even my own mother.

My mother had accidentally gotten pregnant with me while she was human. I had no idea who my father was. Our silverback wasn’t a shifter, he’d been an animal, so it couldn’t have been him. Because of her responsibility to her little bastard shifter child, she’d been forced to shift enough to at least keep me alive and somewhat out of trouble. She’d let me know often what a mistake I had been and how awful humans were.

I never knew anything more than that, but our band of gorillas were my only family and I’d been taken with them. Everything bad she said about humans, every name she’d called me, angry that I forced her into her own skin, became even more believable having lived with humans.

I was fascinated by Painter and so was my gorilla, but I could never go back to living amongst humans. It really didn’t matter how nice he was. As soon as I was healed, I’d be leaving. Maybe I’d have to shift and live in my skin long enough to get back to Africa. I’d do what I had to in order to see that through.

There was an ache in my chest just thinking about leaving him behind. I rubbed the empty space there. I didn’t know much about mates. I’d heard of true mates and the instant connection and completeness that came with finding a true mate, but I had never paid close attention to it because I’d never dreamed I would find mine.

Would I always have an emptiness in my heart that belonged to him? I didn’t really believe that. I didn’t even know him. I’d get over it in time. Sure, he may leave a new scar, but I’d survived worse.

I settled back into my nest, but there was an uneasy feeling setting in this time. Somehow, I managed to sleep anyway and the next time I awoke it was morning.

Over the next few days, I settled into a routine. Painter got up early and went for a run then came back for breakfast. He ate a similar vegan diet to me which was a relief. Often in captivity there was very little for me to eat. In desperation I’d tried some of the meat they served us. I had been starving at the time and it made