Grayson woke up with a migraine that seemed to hammer against his skull.
He slowly sat up – immediately noticing how uneven his bed was. He massaged his temples in an effort to relieve the annoyingly painful headache. He slowly opened his eyes and looked around the master suite he took over when he became Alpha.
There were holes in the grey walls at random intervals, clearly from him punching them. The nightstands had been ripped apart – quite literally, as if someone had torn them apart like paper. The lamps that rested on the nightstands had been broken, one of the light bulbs were shattered – leaving behind sharp shards of glass – but one lamp still clung onto life, its light flickering desperately. Curtains had been torn down and ripped to shreds. The ottoman that rested at the foot of his king sized bed had been snapped in half. Splinters and shards of wood decorated the plush white carpeting.
Grayson looked down at his hands; his knuckles had already scabbed over, although they were complimented with pink inflammation. Dried blotches of blood decorated his hands. One of the advantages of being a werewolf was that the healing process quickens. A wound that would take a human a week to heal would take a werewolf a day or two.
“It would appear that Cory has been taking scent-suppressants”, Ambrose spoke calmly.
Grayson closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in strong concern and diluted anger.
Scent-suppressants were originally used as a means of precaution for wolves during the full moon – where unmarked wolves would be hunted down and ravaged… In most cases it was against their will. It seemed like a good idea centuries ago. But many wolves became severely ill after taking the pill – some even died from them.
It was only later, after extensive testing, discovered that scent-suppressants could actually kill a werewolf’s genetic coding – eliminating their paranormal life-force. And that always leads to death. Thus they had been outlawed, considered a taboo substance and a sin.
Grayson took a deep breath and stood up. He nearly faltered but quickly regained his balance. He looked at his bed and one of the thick wooden beams that supported the bed off the ground had been bent at an impossible angle. Luckily it hadn’t completely snapped off.
Grayson ran an uneasy hand through his sweat-drenched white hair and stumbled into the adjoined bathroom to the left of the room. He noticed there was also a huge hole punched in the bathroom door. More splinters of wood lay on the white carpet.
He smelled musky so he turned on the shower then shed out of his clothes. He stood under the spray, letting the cold water run down him. Feeling it cascade down his chest and defined torso. After a few minutes, he slightly increased the temperature of the water to clean himself more hygienically.
“Why would he take those? He could’ve died…” Grayson whispered.
The Alpha washed his hair and scrubbed his body before getting out and towelling himself dry. He then scrubbed his teeth and rinsed his mouth out with mouthwash. He approached his closet on the far right side of the big room – occasionally standing on splinters. He didn’t wince. His mind was focussed on only one thing; scarlet hair and cold brown eyes.
He opened the closet door and saw that even it was in disarray. Shelves had been snapped in half. Some of the metal railings that supported the clothing that needed to be hanged up had been bent to the point of snapping. Grayson sighed and threw on a black t-shirt with a random pair of blue jeans. He then tugged on random socks and random shoes.
“Lucian…did I hurt anyone?” Grayson asked softly through the pack link.
His bedroom door opened slowly and Lucian entered, he had a slight bruise to his right eye but it was also healing quickly. Intervals of yellow interrupted the rich blue hue around his right eye.
“No, Alpha”, Lucian spoke calmly – nonchalantly.
Grayson sighed again, “Clearly I did.” He pointed at Lucian’s bruised eye.
“I disobeyed your orders to let you go back to the cottage. But, I did it with reason – I know that doesn’t excuse my insubordination – if you are to win back Cory’s trust, I suggest it would be wise not to scare him.” Lucian spoke calmly.
“Thank you, brother”, Grayson spoke softly. Lucian had been with the white-haired man through all the struggling and pain the new Alpha experienced throughout four very long years. Subduing Grayson’s volatile temper and supporting him during his bouts of depression.
“I instructed two pack warriors to guard the cottage door. They have reported throughout the night that Cory had been screaming in pain in spontaneous intervals.” Lucian reported.
“Fetch Ambrose. I’m going to go see Cory”, Grayson spoke.
“Yes, Alpha.”
Grayson and Lucian made their way to the entrance of the pack manor, but Grayson stopped – turning to speak to one of the manor attendees.
“Please fix my quarters”, Grayson instructed the attendee.
“Yes, Alpha”, the attendee bowed their head down in submission.
As Grayson walked through the woods leading to Joy’s old cottage he received a thought from Lucian.
“I would suggest you control your anger. That is, if your goal is still to keep Cory here.”
“Yes, I will do that.” Grayson replied through the pack link.
Grayson made his way to the cottage, stopping outside the door. He dismissed the two pack warriors and they bowed their head in respect.
The white-haired Alpha took a deep breath and turned the doorknob, entering the cottage.
His head instantly turned to Cory’s bed, but it was empty. His eyes scanned around the small cottage – searching frantically for the scarlet-haired male. He heard retching coming from behind a closed wooden door next to the fireplace.
Grayson slowly approached the door and knocked, “Cory, are you okay?”
“Go…away…Grayson.” Cory spoke between huffed breaths.
“Cory, open the door”, Grayson urged, he tried the doorknob but it was locked from the inside.
“Please leave!” Cory begged in a thick voice.
The sound of Cory’s voice, full of emotion and pain tugged on Grayson’s heart. His mind then wandered to a gory image of Cory spilling blood on the floor from harming himself. Grayson’s body tensed and he shoved the door open – the metal lock of the door snapping in half.
Cory was bent over the toilet, his ponytail had come mostly undone. Scarlet strands falling loose in random disarray, some sticking to his sweat drenched grey shirt. Cory made another retching sound but Grayson could tell nothing had come up.
“I…asked…you…to-” Cory said again between huffed breaths.
But Grayson interrupted him, “Let’s get you back to bed. Ambrose will be back soon – maybe he can give you medicine to make you feel better.”
But Cory didn’t budge, he remained bent over the toilet.
“Cory-”
“Please leave, Grayson!” Cory turned his head slightly to look at the older male. Tears were slowly running down his bloodshot eyes. His face was glistening from sweat. He was a whiter shade of pale. He had dark circles under his eyes – he looked in absolute pain.
Grayson took a sharp breath to control the tornado of emotions that destructively whirled inside of him, “No” he said and picked Cory up – careful not to make any skin to skin contact so as not to hurt the younger man.
He walked to Cory’s bed and noticed all the blankets have been kicked off, the flowers on the nightstand had been thrown across the room – their vase left in broken shards. Cory’s black hoodie lay next to bed – also drenched in sweat.
Grayson slowly laid Cory on the bed.
“It’s so…hot in…here”, Cory huffed out.
Grayson stared at Cory, his long scarlet hair stuck to his face. His glasses were beginning to fog up. Grayson carefully removed the spectacles, both of Cory’s eyes were brown now. His magic trapped in the silver bracelet.
“Let me see you wrists”, Grayson said.
“No…” Cory responded tiredly.
Grayson rolled his eyes in irritation and slowly lifted Cory’s grey sleeves. The younger male didn’t put up any fight – didn’t snatch his arm away. He was too tired and in too much pain to resist.
The agitated skin on Cory’s wrists had not healed. In fact, they seemed to be getting infected – turning an even angrier shade of red.
There was a knock on the door and Grayson called out, “Come in.”
Ambrose entered and so did Lucian.
“You summoned me, Grayson?” Ambrose spoke tonelessly.
“He’s sick. Drenched in sweat and I found him hurling in the bathroom. The wounds on his wrists aren’t healing”, Grayson spoke calmly, hiding his panic.
Ambrose nodded wisely and walked over to Cory, he kneeled next to the bed and went to touch Cory’s hand but Grayson harshly grabbed the black-haired man’s wrist, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He snarled possessively.
“Temper”, Lucian reminded Grayson through the pack link.
Grayson sighed and released Ambrose’s wrist. The new sorcerer gently grabbed Cory’s hand and inspected the wound on the younger male’s wrist. He then put a gentle palm on Cory’s forehead and nodded again.
“He is experiencing the withdrawal symptoms of the scent-suppressants. They should subside by tonight – although we would need to know how long he has been taking them in order for me to give an accurate time estimation.” Ambrose then looked at Cory expectantly.
Cory narrowed his tired eyes at Ambrose, “I’m not telling you.”
Grayson clenched his jaw in irritation, “Co-” Grayson stopped himself when he felt his voice rise. He took a deep breath, “Cory, please tell us… How long have you been taking the suppressants?” Grayson asked in a gentle tone.
Cory huffed out air and kept quiet.
“Cory, you can tell me of your own choice. Or, I can read you and discover the answer, as well as everything in your life”, Ambrose said flatly.
Cory clenched his entire being. He didn’t want anyone to know where he had been and what he had been up to – including what he had to overcome on his own for four years. He sighed and looked at Ambrose, “For four years.”
Ambrose simply nodded but Grayson’s eyes widened in horror – pure horror.
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