Chapter 5: Love Sickness

She moves to the kitchen, closer to where I am, and I hear her silent sobs. She tries to keep them quiet as she grabs the tea kettle and fills it with water, sticking it on the stove to heat. Then she crosses to the shelf that used to be a pantry, the door now missing, and she grabs a glass container with herbs in it. She then pulls out her phone and dials a number, anxiously chewing on her nails.

“Freesa,” she says with a relieved sigh. “It’s Wren. He is really bad again.” Her words are laced with worry and I imagine her eyes are glistening with tears as she leans on the counter with her back facing me. Her head droops forward as she nods solemnly.

“Yeah, no, I know that. I just. I really think you should come see him.”

She pauses again, before straightening up again. 

“You did?” She sounds surprised. “Lovesickness? What the hell is that?”

I frown. It’s not an illness I have ever heard of before; I mean, outside of the human world, making jokes about it.

“I’m sorry. It sounds like you are saying he is going to die.” She scoffs before listening again. “Ok, yeah, I know what fatal means, Freesa. I’m not a moron, ok?” her voice is rising, and she sounds desperate and angry.

She spins and her eyes are visible to me as they pinch at the sides and nothing but pure agony is behind the glassy tears that fall. She then throws her phone against the wall and bites into her fist, muffling her scream as she slumps to the floor of her kitchen and is out of sight. 

I want to crash through the window and pull her into my arms, but then what would I do? Explain to her I’m unnaturally drawn to her? That I followed her because… what? There is no real reason for stalking a girl, granted I’m doing it because I don’t trust her… but still…

I push off of the windowsill and ease my way away from her house. When I know that I’m far enough away, I reach into my pocket and call the only person I know who will understand what lovesickness is. Luna Nikita. Not only is she worldly she was a healer for a long time in our pack back home.

After the second ring, her gentle voice sounds through the phone.

“Sebastian,” she says sweetly. “How are you, dear?”

“What is love sickness?” I ask.

“I guess we can always do pleasantries at the end of the phone call,” she mutters. I can imagine her frown as she clears her throat.

“Uh, it’s a very, very rare disease.”

“But werewolves don’t get sick.” I snap at her.

She chuckles through the line.

“My dear, dear, naïve brute, you would be wrong.” She says, pausing for a moment before continuing, “When you are mated, and your mate is taken from you but alive, the further they are from you for an extended period, the sicker you get. It’s like a cancer that grows, filling the cracks of the stretched mate bond, weakening it and eventually breaking it completely when they are both too weak and they succumb.”

“Can’t they just reject each other?” I scoff.

“Can you reject someone if they aren’t there to hear it, Sebastian?” She asks, sounding disappointed. I growl in annoyance. Sometimes I can be so daft.

“No. Both parties have to be present and both parties have to reject and accept.” I mumble, feeling much like a little kid getting reprimanded during a school lesson. 

“Why are you so curious about this?” She asks.

“I came across someone who is dying from it,” I say, shrugging.

I can hear the shuffling of fabric on her end as if she is sitting up in her bed.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what I said, Luna. I found a sick werewolf, and they have diagnosed him with lovesickness.”

There is a pregnant pause while I wait for her to drill me more.

“Interesting,”

“Is that my son?” Alpha Jameson says in the background. 

“It is Sebastion,” she whispers.

“Close enough, hand me the phone,” the phone passes to Jameson.

“Alpha,” I say

“Seb, my boy. How is everything going?”

“We are just enjoying the sites,” I say

“Uh, huh? Any new conquests?” he drawls. 

“Jameson!” Luna says from the background.

“What! He is young and virile!” he laughs out.

“He should save himself for his mate.”

“Right. That’ll happen,” Jameson snorts. 

“I have to get back to Nickolai,” I say, trying to end the conversation.

They always do this. They get too friendly with me and it makes me feel like I have a place, like I have a family that isn’t mine. I hate it and I love it all the same. The cross of an orphaned alpha’s son to bear. Having a place while still having nothing. 

“Sebastian.” Jameson’s voice is stern. 

“Yes Alpha?”

“Be safe. I don’t have a lot of faith in our new ally, so keep your eyes peeled. If there is anything amiss, don’t get the treaty signed.”

“Understood,” I say, looking back over my shoulder at Wren’s rundown home.

“And Seb?”

“Yes, sir?”

“If it comes down to it, you might have to go against Nickolai.”

I stutter in my step. Fucking hell.

“I don’t like the idea of that very much, sir.”

“I understand that, but for now, I am your Alpha. Not Nickolai. Use your judgment. I trust it explicitly.”

“Yes, Alpha,” I say, hanging up. I shove my phone into my front pocket and scrub my large hand over my face. The idea of going against Nickolai has my stomach-churning. It means I will have to put myself in a very precarious position in order to not step on Nickolai’s toes or put him in danger. I take a deep breath and tug my hood over my head a little tighter as the skies open up, pelting me with large droplets of cool water. 

Her pain runs through my head repeatedly each time. The pull to turn around and run to her grows tauter and, in a bid to leave that weakness in me, I break into a run. By the time I make it back to the room next to Nickolai’s, my muscles are weak and I’m drenched in a mixture of salty sweat and fresh rain.

My clothes cling to me as I peel them off and toss them to the ground, moving to the shower. I unbutton my pants and I’m about to pull them off when Nickolai strolls in and plops down onto my bed, stretching his arms up over his head as he falls to his back, staring wistfully at the ceiling. 

“What are you doing?” I ask him, raising a brow.

“Do you ever wonder what your mate will be like?” He asks, paying no mind to my annoyed grunt. “I mean, we have to make eye contact and touch hands to find our true mate, so we could meet and fall for them before we even know they are ours.” He turns to face me, propping his head on his fist. 

“I have no desire to meet my mate.” I remind him. This is a conversation we seem to go into every time Nickolai likes a woman. Which means it’s a conversation we have regularly.

“Yeah, you know, you keep saying that, but I think when you find her, you will change your mind.”

“Doubtful. Especially considering I wear gloves to avoid meeting her.” 

“I don’t think you need physical contact or eye contact. That is bullshit, I think. I think it’s a feeling, something you can feel in the depths of your bones. Like you see them and your breath is stolen from your lips, the clouds part, and the skylights up when they smile.”

I lose him in his musings as my mind flits back to the thief, who floats around like the bird she is named after. I shake my head when her sad eyes overtake my mind and the sour taste of bitterness cuts through me, thinking about her heartache. Fuck, I need to remember that I don’t care, and I hate feeling like I should. I look back at Nickolai, who is still talking to himself as I shuck my pants and toss my phone onto my bed. 

As I pad to the bathroom door, Nickolai says something that makes me freeze, not only just in my step, but the very depths of me turn into a violent wave of rage and possessiveness I didn’t know I had in me. 

“She might be the one.” He says again. I glance over my shoulder at him, standing in nothing but my soaked boxer briefs. 

“You always say that, Nicki,” I remind him, doing everything I can to keep my voice even and uninterested. 

“She is different. When I see her, my heart pounds like crazy. She makes me blush, Seb. Me! Blushing!” He gets up and walks over to me. “I think I want to ask her to check if she is my true mate.”

I scoff, sounding angry even to my ears.

“Do what you want Nicki. Why the fuck would I care?”

“You’re in a mood tonight,” He jokes, not phased by my wood swings. He never is, but then again to him, I’m always in a mood.

I turn back to the bathroom and shut the door, leaving him behind me as I turn on the hot water. Maybe I can burn her sad look out of my eyes with the stream of hot water? I’m good enough with my other senses that I’m sure I could survive without too much trouble.

The door behind me flies open and Nickolai stands staring at me, his eyes twinkling with excitement. And I want to punch the smile off his fucking face.

“You like her too!” He shoots, convinced he is right. Which is hilarious. Because like is not the right word. She makes me feel things, things no one else ever has, and she doesn’t even try. And I loathe that.

“No. She is a lowlife who is after something, but I don’t know what or why,” I say with mild boredom. Nickolai frowns at me. 

“She is not a lowlife, Sebastian. You don’t know her and the fact that you are judging her so quickly just proves how much more you need to work on yourself before you come swinging with shit like that,” He slams the door behind him and I lean over, clicking the lock.

Maybe now he will give me some much fucking needed space.