The Beta doesn't like her

Peter’s POV.
I am aware of people moving quietly around the apartment, voices come and go, and I sit and wait.

I pray to the Goddess to save my Emma. I plead, I bargain.

I speak to my Emma… promising her whatever she needs or desires. ‘I will sort it all out for you. I promise we will make it so you can be with your daughters too, just come back to me Em.’ I beg.

She remains unmoving. Pale and vulnerable. Bruised and battered.

Braon is howling in my head, berating me for not protecting her; berating himself.

A coffee sits on the bedside table, cold, the milk setting on top. How can I consider substance when she can’t?

I am aware I should probably contact Jo, but I can’t. I don’t know what to say to her and there is no way she would understand why her mum isn’t in a hospital. I leave it in the too hard box for now.

Jess comes in and takes some readings. I gaze at her hopefully.

She shakes her head. There is no change, and that is not good news. If Em were a werewolf she would be awake by now, I feel even a human should be beginning to recover if they are going to.

My shoulders sag and I return to my lonely vigil, squeezing her hand, imploring her to squeeze mine back.

I doze and dream of her. It is a tender dream, rather than a passionate one. I can almost feel her stroke my face. I am surrounded by her wondrous scent, enveloped in her love. Her voice murmurs to me, I can’t make out the words, but don’t want to in case she is telling me goodbye.

I don’t want to wake, reality sucks, but I do, to white hot pain coming through the link.

‘JESS’ I scream. So much pain, how can she bear it, then the pain has gone.

Jess rushes into the room, her usually perfectly presented hair frizzy and ungroomed, her clothes crumpled and creased. I guess my yell woke her.

‘What is it Peter?’ she asks groggily.

‘I felt pain, so much pain through our link’ I whimper.

Jess hurries to the bedside, checking on her patient; noting heart rate, blood pressure, respiration, temperature.

She turns to me, an unreadable look on her face.

No, no, no I think. She can’t be dying, I won’t let her. My grip on her hand tightens, trying to pull her back to this life, then I feel it, the very slightest twitch, as if she has gripped me back.

Hope radiates from my face.

‘Peter, Petey,’ Jess starts, a smile forming. ‘I am not sure how, but she is going to be fine. She might sleep a few more hours… but as far as I can tell all her vitals are normal… Goddess even the injuries to her face look more healed than I would expect for a human.’

Tears fill my eyes. The Goddess has granted my miracle.

Jess looks at me. ‘Now I suggest you get a shower, and get changed… Oh and Barlas and the team chasing the attackers have returned… you might want a status update from him too.’

I run my hands through my hair, then rub my face. Jess is right I need to make sure I am ready for her when she wakes, and any piece of shit familiar has already been dealt with.

Emma’s POV
My eyes flutter open. My head is throbbing, and my body is one giant ache.

Well that probably means I am not dead, I think.

I take in the room, a bedroom with two doors leading from it… one is wide open and I can see a bathroom, so I guess the other leads to elsewhere.

A monitor beeps, a sound I would normally associate with a hospital. Also there is a drip in my arm. For a moment I wrestle with the sense I know this already, but whatever it is has already faded from my mind. I wonder why I am not in hospital.

The sheets on the bed are soft and the duvet is warm. I can smell Peter, and it comforts me. I think about getting up and seeing what is going on, but even the small effort taken so far has exhausted me. I sink back into the warmth of the bed and let sleep roll back over me.
...
I wake again, and while my body still aches at least my head has stopped hurting.

Where am I? I ponder, straining to remember.

Then last night's events flash through my mind. I remember running and hiding; sleet and rain; bruises and grazes; exposure and pain.

I guess Peter found me, Jo must have told him where I was, although god only knows how he managed to get to me in time.

I slide out of bed, and unhook the drip. My bandaged feet sink into the most luxurious carpet I have ever seen, even more sumptuous than the ones in the hotel in London.

I walk carefully to the bathroom, using the furniture and walls to steady me.

I am confronted by my reflection in a huge mirror. How long have I been out for? I wonder.

The two black eyes weren’t unexpected, I remember taking a forehead to the nose, but the bruising is more green and yellow rather than blue and purple, as if it happened many days ago.

I can see a line where my lip split, but it is not swollen.

A man’s t-shirt and bandages cover the rest of my body. Carefully I remove the shirt, leaving just a pair of knickers. This allows me to inspect my body.

My ribs are bound, and when I press the dull ache intensifies, clearly they are not fully healed, and as I have never cracked a rib before I am not sure what to expect.

My right wrist is also bound… I check the movement, twisting and turning it this way and that… pretty sure I didn’t break it. In fact it feels almost as good as usual.

The only marks left on my legs are two nearly healed grazes on my shins, and where the unhealed hickie was is now a tattoo wolf crossing rapids. I don’t know why, but that feels right. Peter said he marked me… this must be what he meant.

My feet are heavily bandaged, and the cold bathroom floor has made them start to throb, so I head for the toilet, pulling the t-shirt back on while I complete my business.

On my way back to bed I hear voices from the other room.

‘Report Barlas’ I smile at the sound of Peter's voice, and start towards the living room.

Something makes me pause at the door, there are others in the room with Peter and I don’t know what is happening. Even though I know eavesdroppers hear no good of themselves I decide to listen for a moment.

A man’s voice responds. ‘We tracked the assailants for fifteen miles to the local city, and then to a local pub, but when we got there they were gone’

‘What do you mean gone, how fucking incompetent are you? Not able to find two pieces of shit who hurt my luna, ' Peter growled.

‘For the sake of the pack Peter give it up. Twenty years you have been on this quest and what do you find at the end of it … a pathetic human who can’t take care of herself … one who doesn’t even want you and definitely isn’t worthy of you.’ the man retorts angrily.

I quiver, and bite my lip to hold back a sob, as tears start to stream down my face.

He is right, I think. I am not worthy of any of this, Peter is so much better than me. But the man, Barlas did Peter say, is wrong too, four weeks on the road and I do want Peter. He was the last person I thought of every night as I drifted off into troubled sleep, and my first thought each morning. Hell, I was just about to return to him when the attack happened.

I am about to return to my bed, to consider what I have heard and whether I should just let Peter go when he snarls ‘You don’t know her. Don’t fucking talk about her like that’

‘Don’t you get it Peter... the pack is falling apart, and the attacks have gotten worst, and the pups…’ the stranger’s voice is raw with emotion. ‘More have gone… from our pack and the small ones nearby’

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, what does he mean attacks and pups gone. My mind races and I realise someone is taking, no stealing children. My mind is screaming, some arsehole is stealing children.

It is like a force has taken over my body, in my mind I can hear those children begging and screaming for help, for mercy, for me?

I have to save the children