It Took a Moon or Two (A Werewolf Love Story)

Ch.3: A Story Begins

Ferris' POV

A delightful chill sprung me out of the darkness tucking me in. I rolled onto my side and snuggled deeper into the fresh sheets of my bed, eager to continue this nap. The mattress springs groaned quietly, but I ignored it, grabbing in front of me for another pillow to cushion myself. I expected the plush, goose feathers to give way under my fingers and instead, I knocked my knuckles into the edge of the nightstand.

Unless I was hanging off the edge of the bed, there was no way...

One eye cracked open, followed by the other. They squinted against the intense light streaming in through the window. My pupils adjusted and I strained them to the limits of where my vision would stretch without turning my head.

A vase of wild flowers from the fields around the property perched atop the night table I'd hit. Behind that were stark, white walls, sparsely decorated with stock image art in shiny new, glass frames that bragged of united human families, with their dogs in various seasons. This was a wing mom hadn't decorated personally. It was far too generic to be signed off by Molly Grey.

What in the shadows was I doing in the infirmary?

I shot up out the bed only to groan at the head ache that thundered in my temples. It felt like I'd dragged myself through a marathon during a record heatwave. Between my aching joints and the cooled down sweat And the lights were all too bright.

"Why am I here?" I whispered to myself.

"Because some mad dog Alpha tried to dry hump you when you were unconscious."

I started at Chelsea's voice, flinching at the snap of her gum that trailed. Turning to the opposite side, I caught her filing her nails in the chair she'd sidled up to the bed from across the room. She was still in the outfit we'd chosen that morning for the welcoming day, but she'd checked her heels at the door and sat on her bare feet with the skirt of her dress pulled over her knees.

"Why are you here? And what the hell are you talking about?" I grumbled, throwing the blankets off of my legs.

Good, at least I was still dressed.

The chiseled jawline and narrowed, brown eyes, wild with desperation darted to and fro on the insides of my eyelids. When his features patched themselves into a unit, my mind collapsed into a foggy cloud that pierced the crown of my head. The strong pulse drew my fingers to the back of my head where they found the throb in question. I palpated a wide bump and winced.

"Oh yeah, you hit your head," Chelsea added.

She was protected from the full strength of my glower by the door swinging open, mom flying in in a frenzy of loose curls and loaded footsteps. Dad was hot on her heels, his monumental size shrouding mom in the narrow doorway she bowed into. Chelsea wasn't stupid enough to stick around seeing my parents come in. She clung to the perimeter of the room, hooking a finger into her shoe straps and tip-toeing away without drawing more than a disinterested stare from dad.

"Chicken, you're awake!" mom shouted while pitching herself onto me to crush me in a hug.

I had no energy left to beat her off, but thankfully she removed herself without prompt. Her heels cackled loudly in my ears as she paced to dad, then back to the bed, back to dad, back to the bed... By the gods, she was like a ping-pong ball.

"Can someone tell me what's going on?" I finally dared ask.

Mom seized mid-stride, shoulders curling to her ears. Dad and her communicated silently with a look over my head that aggravated me further. Of course they'd use the mind-link. It's their number one parenting tactic and cubs couldn't hear it until they turned eighteen. Which I obviously hadn't yet.