Page 85 of Chasing The Alpha's Son
“That they’re bad at their jobs,” I huff, the pain making me more than grumpy.
Mia slips inside and closes the door quietly, as if she’s undercover and doesn’t want anyone to know she’s here.
“I’m worried they’re not considering all the options.”
We all look at her like we have no idea what she’s talking about.
“Why wouldn’t they?” Katie asks.
“Because we’re a modern pack… We have traditions, but our medicine is contemporary, closer to that of humans. They wouldn’t consider—”
“Consider what?” I grunt.
“The blood wolf.”
“What?!” Jasper, Katie, and I say at the same time.
“Hear me out,” Mia says, stepping closer, making me grimace. “I know it’s an old superstition, a ghost story, but it has to come from somewhere. What if it’s real? What if the blood moon has done something to Max?”
“What like it’s changed him?” Katie asks.
Mia pauses. “Or brought out something that was already there but hidden.”
I lie back on the pillows, the thudding in my skull as strong as ever.
“What are you saying?” Jasper asks, fists clenched, anger rising in his voice.
“Max, you were feeling fine until the blood moon came out last night, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And when it did you shifted; can you remember what happened next? Do you remember attacking Katie?”
I glance at Katie, who avoids my eyeline.
“No.”
“You would never do that normally, would you? The blood wolf is summoned by the blood moon and—”
“And they become destructive, they turn wild.” I finish Mia’s sentence and Katie’s eyes snap to mine.Wild, that’s the word she used to describe me.
Jasper groans and rubs his eyes. “So what are you saying? Max has been cursed?”
“No, but maybe there’s something about the blood moon that affects wolves—not every wolf obviously, but what if it can trigger something in us, like taking a drug or—”
“You think I’m some kind of monster?” I ask, nostrils flaring.
“No,” Mia says, “but I think what might be happening to you has more to do with last night’s lunar event than some might think.”
“So,” Jasper says, clearly exasperated by this line of thinking, “what are you suggesting we do?”
“The healers here and back at your pack won’t know how to deal with this—they’re too scientific.”
“Should we call a priest?” I joke, even though talking is pretty damn painful.
“Maybe,” Mia continues. “Or…there is someone else who I think might be able to help.”
Mia stops talking, color rising in her cheeks, and she turns her toes inward. Why is she scared to tell us who this person is? We stare at her, waiting for her to continue.
