“Wake up.” A crackly little voice sounds in my ear, jarring the headache threatening to split my brain in half.

No.

“Sweetheart...” It’s a familiar tone. Like a grandmother coaxing her loved one. I recognize it, I just...don’t have it in me to care at the moment. “You need to wake up now. It’ll help you. I promise.”

Still a no. It hurts.

“William Michael Reed, if you don’t wake up this instant I’m never selling you coffee again!” Ella Jo scolds much, much too loudly for me to handle in this state.

“So mean,” I groan. My throat is so dry, I’m barely making any sound. Fucking ow.

“That’s my boy.” She chuckles tightly and I can smell her flowery perfume. It’s slightly nauseating now that I’m becoming more aware of it. 

I try to roll away and get a whiff of fresh air, but my body doesn’t respond like I want. There’s such an intense level of pain everywhere on me, and I can’t even localize what exactly hurts or why I can’t do a fucking thing. I seem to be lying down, but I’m unable to tell if the surface beneath me is hard or soft. All I can feel is the pain.

After some time of me acknowledging that whatever is happening to me sucks major dick, I realize there are muffled voices sounding nearby. Ella Jo’s, along with one I can’t place. Not like I interact with many people in general, but if someone's in my house I’d like to recognize who it is. Especially if I’m...compromised somehow. I push that annoyance out of my mind as a simmering ache drips over my skin. The voices are offering a good enough distraction, but it’s difficult to focus and fully understand the situation I’m in. Was I run over while biking? Probably.

“I’m sorry I called this late, I just didn’t know what else to do.” It’s a man speaking in a deep, hoarse croak. “He just...he just collapsed and when I tried to pick him up he...it hurt him. I could tell I was hurting him.” 

Confusion passes over me just before the pain steps it up a few notches. Fuck. It flares until I feel like my body is burning, but not from a fire.

“You can touch him again since he’s awake and aware of you.” Ella Jo is getting further away from me. “Hold him. It’ll help.”

“Wait, where are you going?” The man’s voice rises in panic. “Why is this happening? Is he going to be okay?”

It’s that sensation I get when I hold an ice cube for too long, but multiplied by a million as it crawls beneath my skin.

“He healed you completely, Sam.” Ella Jo sounds like she’s crying suddenly. “He took your pain. Everything you’ve felt since the day you were born.”  

Who the hell is Sam? I try to open my eyes, but I can’t move.

“He’ll recover, but there’s nothing more I can do.” She’s definitely crying. “I have to leave or I’ll interrupt the bond and prolong his pain. You need to be the presence that distracts from what he’s feeling.”

...bond?

There’s the distant thud of a door closing, then a new wave comes. It pounds against my skull first, then ripples down my body. I can sense my mouth dragging open to release whatever I can manage, but I don’t hear anything escape.

The pain dulls as soon as something cold sweeps over me. I’m submerged in its embrace and...I can breathe again. Deeply. Am I in the lake? There’s definitely moisture; droplets tickle my skin as my body is pulled against a firm surface. A surface that moves beneath me. So cold.

I can hear ragged breaths as more of the liquid trails across me. There’s a subtle warmth like a breeze that combats the deep chill covering my body. I focus on that until I can feel it on my neck.

“I’m so sorry, William.” A broken voice whispers beside my ear. It’s that guy from before.

“Call me Will,” I grunt, my throat aching from the effort. I try to swallow, but it burns. “Did it survive? The wolf...” I trail off as the pain in my throat becomes electric, spreading across my entire face.

“Oh, um...it’s alive.” His voice vibrates against my head.

Is he...touching me? My body shifts as the person sniffs, his breaths coming shorter and faster. Crying...? The cold tightens around me, but not uncomfortably so. It pushes the pain back down and I sigh a slight relief.

“Who are you?” I whisper through a shiver.

“I’m Sam.” His voice is so tight, it’s basically gone. 

Why is he crying like this? I can’t really bear the sound of it. This is the worst nightmare I’ve ever had. I focus every brain cell I have on my eyelids. I need to see what’s going on.

Jarring pain shoots across my forehead as I force my eyes open. Skin…? I blink to clear the fog from my vision, and discover my head is pressed against a tan, toned chest that’s streaked with dark red crust. Blood.

“Are you okay?” My voice cracks and I try to remember how to move my head, straining with great effort against the icy burn spreading down my spine.

The skin against my face shifts and I feel pressure on the back of my neck. My head is tilted upwards, and suddenly I’m looking at a young man with spiky blond hair. He blinks back at me, tear trails wiping dirt and blood from his angular face. I glance frantically at the red stains spread across his neck and bare chest, a deep muscle spasm flying up my body as I separate my skin from his. It’s dry. The blood is dry.

I try not to make a sound as the pain intensifies around my neck, but a low groan escapes me.

“I’m so sorry,” Sam whispers, bringing my eyes up to his. 

I can’t look away. I know these eyes. 

Dark brown.

Darker than the coffee I drink every day.