Getting slammed by four hundred pounds, give or take, is painful no matter who you are. Being caught between this freight train of flesh and a stone wall, such as the one surrounding the grill setup, is taking the term "between a rock and a hard place" to its most agonizing extremes. Once the tweety birds spiraling my head dissipated, Alan and Mickayla filled my gradually returning vision. Angus stalked off to go bash some heads together, judging by his face.
"Anybody get the number o' that Mac truck?" I groaned, my accent thick from the pain that was already setting in. Where's shock when you could really use it?
"Can't be too bad if she's making bad jokes," Mickayla said to Alan. Then in order to distract me from his poking and prodding she said with a roll of her eyes towards where I assumed Ian and Gordon were. "They're just like teenage boys when they're trying to show off."
"There're easier ways o' getting' my attention. 'Hey, you' works fine." I hissed through clenched teeth when Alan inspected my shoulder. "Dislocated, probably torn rotator."
"Amongst other things," he agreed mildly as he did something that should have been a violation of the Geneva Convention. "Couple of cracked ribs, mild concussion. Ever dislocated anything before?"
"Nope, but's gonna hurt like a mother."
Alan nodded to Mickayla and before I could react, they set the joint back in place with a sickening crunch. The world swam in a nauseous haze, but I didn't pass out. Woo!
"Lemme know when I can return the favour," I groaned. "In spades."
"The rotator'll heal on its own in about a week. Compared to months for a human." Let's hear it for regeneration. "But your scapula's split, and even if your joint's set, your shoulder's still messed up."
"That the medical term, doc?"
"Recovery will still take weeks. If you shift, you'll heal faster."
"No." I shook my head too fast and the world wobbled.
"Tell me, is this normal?" Alan carefully lifted my right, injured arm. Around the blinding agony I dimly hard disturbing sounds that should be coming from a cereal bowl instead of a person.
"Fuck all ya'll," I panted when I could breathe again.
"No thanks," he said blandly. "Cute as you are, I don't want to fight the others over you. The longer you take to shift, the more you'll heal wrong." Improperly healed rotator cuffs are a bitch and can take a year or more of PT to correct. That's not even taking into account complications from broken bones knitting without being set right. Logic and experience said that he was right. The only problem was that the wolf wanted to come out and play too much. And there were too many humans. Pain and panic, exacerbated by the wolf coming to the fore, paralyzed me till I could only shake my head faintly.
"Don't make me use the Dommy voice," Mickayla said sternly. I opened my eyes to let her see the fear that chilled me. Or maybe that was finally shock. Could werewolves go into shock?
A pair of familiar suede loafers stood at the edge of my vision. A moment later Angus crouched to fill my field of vision, which was threatening to narrow again. "Ellie, stop this nonsense and shift." There was no power other than the natural force of his personality, but the order allowed me to stop worrying. His casual tone of authority reminded me that they would keep me from gorging on a human buffet.
"Come on, you don't need an audience for this." Mickayla moved to help me up. Angus beat her to it, scooping me up in his arms so that my shattered shoulder wasn't pressed against him. This unnatural strength still took me by surprise. Of all the places, he took me inside the house and downstairs where he set me on the edge of a bed. There were shining metal bars over the narrow windows set high in the wall. Pretty comfy digs for a cage.
"My safeword's 'apples'," I panted as my body settled into its new position with no small amount of complaints.
"Good to know." The dry bit of humour coming from Angus was so unexpected that I giggled and immediately regretted it when the motion rippled through my battered body.
Alan and Mickayla helped me undress while Angus stood over us, a statue of barely controlled rage. I tried to protest the men's presence, but was immediately shot down by all three. Resoundingly so.
"Please be gentle, it's my first time," I said tightly as they drew off my pants and underwear. You never realize how much you move any part of your body until it's injured and you try to move it. Once I was naked, that was when I freaked out. "I can't."
"Sshh," Angus said soothingly as he carefully held me against his chest. It was like a warm brick wall, but far more comfortable than the one I'd just been introduced to. My mind and hormones swung back and forth between embarrassment and pleasure at being naked in his arms until I sensed Alan crouching on the bed behind me. Damn, he still had to set the shoulder blade. I didn't even have time to tense before his deft, quick hands crunched the pieces back into place.
After awhile I realized that Angus was saying my name and stroking my hair. "To shift you have to let the wolf take over. You'll not likely have control, nor will you be able to change for several hours. We're going to have to lock you in so you don't hurt anyone, or yourself."
So many things had been spinning out of my control I wasn't ready to relinquish any of it. But the wolf didn't care. She wanted to come to meet Angus and the pack. The instant I thought about passing off the reins she seized the chance. I quickly closed my eyes not only because it hurt like a bitch, but because I couldn't stand watching my own flesh ripple as muscle and bone crunched and reformed. I almost wondered if letting everything heal relatively slowly wouldn't have been preferable.
They were making soothing noises and urging me to be quiet at first, then they realized I was cursing under my breath in between soft whimpers and whines. "Son of a mother biscuit eating cracker" made them laugh. You can't curse in front of patients, even if they're coding. Instead you get creative with alternatives to four letter words. At some point the torture ended and everything went black.
"What were you thinking?" To an outsider, my voice would be deceptively soft. Ian and Gordon, as did the rest of the pack, knew better. The two males knelt with heads bowed and necks bared. My wolf wanted to rend that soft flesh. They were dirty and still battered from when they were separated with more force than was strictly necessary, but entirely appropriate. "I've known newly Changed wolves with better self-control than what you displayed today. If you had hit Moira instead, she could've lost full use of that arm." They winced as my voice sharpened and cracked across them like a whip.
"Because of your stupidity, Ellie is undergoing her first intentional shift locked in the safe room after everything I've done to disprove the half-truths that crazy Lone fed her." I leaned in close and whispered, "If she chooses to leave because of your idiocy, I'll take it very personally." Their already white faces blanched even further before I straightened.
"You will beg Ellie for forgiveness. You are her slaves for the next week. You are not to look her in the eye. I don't want to see her lift anything heavier than a glass of water. If she asks you to jump, one asks how high and the other holds the hoop. You will wash, dry, iron, fold her laundry, and shine her shoes. You have one week to arrange for repairs to the barbecue. For the rest of the weekend, the two of you are on cooking and dish duties. The pack cars, Ellie's Jeep, and my car could all use detailing. Oh, and I expect the house and grounds to be spotless by the end of the weekend." They'd be so busy they wouldn't have the time nor the energy to lose their heads again. And by working their tails off, everyone would be reminded that this was a warning for anyone else who might do the same.
"If the rest of you find yourselves at the mercy of your instincts, you will take it elsewhere and handle it in the usual fashion. If not, then you are a liability and will be dealt with accordingly." I glared expectantly at the two boys, who were really old enough to know better. They quickly muttered, "Yes, Alpha" before scrambling to their feet and scattering for one of the many tasks given. I desperately wanted to give chase and slaughter them for injuring what was mine.
I gave a brief nod to Tom, who acknowledged with a bow from the neck before herding everyone inside. Once everyone was gone, I stared at the broken bricks and patio stained with Ellie's blood until Ian and Gordon approached hesitantly with a hose, soap, and stiff bristled brushes. I snarled at them as I strode back towards the house.
Alan was sitting in the armchair outside the safe room. A man with an impossibly large sword faced a dragon on the corner of his paperback. Only the delusional would fight something like that with a melee weapon. The alleged "hero" would be barbecue before he got close enough to swing that tool of overcompensation.
"Hey." He set down the book and sat up from his slouch. "Passed out still, but she'll be fine as long as she doesn't hurt it again any time soon."
"Thanks. Go on up. I'll sit with her." I scrubbed a hand through my hair and touched my pocket to ensure that my phone was there. Nervous habits.
"Sure thing." Alan looked like he would offer to stay until he saw my eyes. "Too bad they couldn't spare the brain cells if you knocked their heads together."
I smiled in spite of my murderous mood. That was the magic of a submissive. Though I never felt calm around Ellie. Frustrated, annoyed, fiercely protective, half-crazed, yes. At peace, no. Then again, she had yet to feel safe or comfortable since the Change.
"Alan." He paused on the stairs. "Have Ian and Gordon bring down meat and water."
"Aye, aye." He'd been spending far too much time with Mickayla.
I settled into the chair and picked up the dog-eared novel he left behind. The main character had just finished his backstory when Tweedledee and Tweedledumb placed their offerings in the safe room before locking it back up. Ian set a cup of coffee, two cream, on the small table beside me before slinking away. They stank of fear. Good.
The handsome, virile Chosen One had just met the feisty ingénue, who was of course a princess in hiding, when Ellie woke up.
