By the second day, Waverly began to regain alertness and awareness of her surroundings. By the fourth day, she had reclaimed her strength, and by the sixth, she was feeling more like herself. While recovering, she was often visited by Felicity, who brought her meals and anything else she needed, as well as Christopher, who still made his rounds to ensure her safety, but also her compliance with their ongoing plan. The fate Christopher presented to her—burning under the Blood Moon—was not a favourable outcome, but the more she came to know Sawyer and the Crimson Shadow pack, the more leaving also didn't seem ideal. Every day since the battle with the rogue wolves and Waverly's injuries, Sawyer had come to check on her, tending to her dressings and having the pack healer examine her arm, which now was placed in a cast. Her pain had subsided, and so had the vomiting; however, she still had the occasional headaches, which were more intense than usual. She swung her legs over the bedsid
Sawyer sat in the same armchair he had for several days when Waverly was recovering from her injuries only less than a week ago. Now here she was again, laying in her bed, sweating profusely to rid herself of the toxins. Sawyer reached for the cloth on the table and dabbed her forehead dry, making her stir in her sleep. Her eyes opened slowly as she awoke, and she caught his gaze. "Hmm…Sawyer?" "Shh," he whispered. "Go back to sleep. You need to rest." He tapped all around her face getting the excess sweat, then set the cloth back down on the nightstand. Waverly moved to her other side and moaned at the pressure she felt in her stomach. "Don't move too much. The healer said it's best if you rest and let the antibiotics do their thing." She agreed and laid her head back down on the pillow. "I'm so…sweaty," she replied weakly, kicking the comforter off of her. Sawyer stood and helped her, sliding the blanket to the edge of the bed. "It's the toxins leaving your body. He said
After the poisoning attempt, Sawyer had done everything he swore he would—security was raised, each beverage within the house, including both alcoholic and non-alcoholic were dispensed of and replaced instantly. Unsure of who the perpetrator could've been, Sawyer had each staff member searched for any traces of the poison, which was unsuccessful. As Waverly regenerated and recuperated, Sawyer often came to visit her and once she was fully recovered from both attacks, which thanks to her shifting abilities, was only a few days, they moved their search to either the grand room or Sawyer's office. During their meetings, they would overlook documents and convolute with Christopher, Katia and the rest of the advisory to hear their opinions, as well as any odd behaviour they observed in either the town or the house. "I haven't seen anything, Sawyer," Christopher stated, his hands rested on the table of the great room. "Nothing's any different than it was two days ago." "So, what're you
After spending her afternoon in the town, Waverly entered through the front door of the house, her hair consisting of pieces of dirt, which she shook out on the shoe mat. She pulled the hair tie on her wrist off and grabbed her curls, setting them in a quick bun. A few pieces fell from the elastic, framing her face. Waverly took off her shoes and jogged up the entryway stairs to her room, where she grabbed a book and blanket before heading back down to the living room. The sun was setting over the mountain view outside of the large, wall-sized window that decorated the sitting area, generating an orange and yellow haze across the hardwood flooring. Waverly spread the throw length-way across the couch facing the window and laid underneath it, curling her legs up to her chest. She flipped open the page to where her bookmark was placed and set the book on her lap, but not long later, she caught herself gazing at the mountainside, while the sun swept over it. "Enjoying the view?" a voi
For the next three hours, Waverly sat curled on the couch, absorbed in her novel about a World War II couple writing letters back and forth to one another during the height of the event. Even though Waverly had never given much consideration until late about finding her match, she still was passionate about reading stories surrounding the idea of fantastical love found in the most conventional and trope-like characters. She scanned every page, flicking through them faster than she imagined she would, completely captivated by the characters she was studying, until the front door of the house bust open. Waverly looked up from her book and noticed Sawyer walking through the entry, heading through the dining room. She quickly shut her book and threw off her blanket, racing behind him. "Sawyer," she called out, attempting to grab his attention. He kept walking forward, through the doors that led to the kitchen, and then out the other side, to the other end of the hallways leading from h
Waverly never understood what her mother had meant when she said that wolves feel 'a connection' when they find their mate, or when their mate bond finally appear. There were many people in Waverly's life that she felt she had made a connection with, and like with any teenager, whenever she had a boyfriend, she always felt that they were 'the one' until they eventually split up. So, how was the 'mating connection' any different than the others? What made it so special that it stood out above everyone else? But in that exact moment, all of her questions were answered. Waverly's senses were overwhelmed, competing with one another for her undivided attention. Sawyer's hand slinked around from her cheek to the back of her neck, and he pulled her in closer, until their bodies were pushed against one another. He opened his mouth just enough for his tongue to slink through and meet with hers, before retreating back. She had never felt so free in her entire life. Her hands rummaged throu
Once Christopher left the kitchen, Waverly made her way up the stairs to her bedroom. She shut the door behind her and fell back against it, absorbing her encounters with both Christopher and Sawyer that evening. Two completely different interactions in the span of minutes and her emotions were at an all-time high. Waverly took one final breath and stood, walking to her wardrobe to change for the night. She then threw her sketchpad on the bedspread and sat down. Her hand gripped the pencil, and she instantly began drawing; not the eye, but something different than usual. This image was of the shadowed man. He had no face and she shaded him a very light grey. Beside him, stood another figure as black as soot. She smudged the pencil lines and shading to make it look like there was a bit of fog around it, outlining the shape of the being. Its arms were stretched out towards the shadowed man, who had no idea what was coming. After an hour, she finally set down her pencil and picked up
Waverly awoke the next morning feeling more unrested than she had on her first night in the mansion. She stretched her limbs and remained laying down, her thoughts still swirling. After her talk with Felicity, Waverly was unable to calm herself. Lately, everything was array and she felt that she didn't have the capacity to handle it all. The drawing she had created the previous night attached itself to her memory and she felt as what she could only describe as a sort of premonition—Christopher was the mass, that much was clear. Only, she didn't know how dark his intentions were and whether or not he was responsible for everything that had happened, or whether he had lied only about the Lunar Eclipse. She threw the blanket over her head in frustration, screaming into it, before taking it off again. This was Christopher she was talking about. Sawyer's Beta. He wouldn't do something like that…would he? Her mind switched back to her sketchbook, which still sat spread open on the bed be