“We’re trying to have a clean game here, remember?”
NOTES: Part Five of Heroes Live Forever. This part kind of jumps about a bit, both in perspective and time, so remember that while you’re reading >.>! Also, the icon I chose for this part is quite angsty, no? Ohoho. Title is from Colorblind by Counting Crows.
PULL ME OUT FROM INSIDE
Heroes Live Forever • Part V
If it had hurt when he’d hit the floor, Nate was incapable of feeling it. In the space of three seconds he had thrown himself back, managed to roll across the wide mattress, and been tugged down to the wood floor by gravity. For what felt like a long time he lay there, breathless, shock rippling through every inch of his body, head to toe. And then he heard his name, Dia’s voice urgent and loud.
His head lifted and he pushed up, still not breathing, green eyes wide as he stared over the bed at the Alpha female and Kyle, and below them, fighting and growling, Cole. Not once in all the years he had known the pack and worked for them had he seen Cole react violently, and never towards a human. Never without provocation, never without being driven to it. Nate still couldn’t breathe, could only stare, feeling the frantic hammering of his heart against the inside of his chest, beating out a mad rhythm.
Blonde hair swayed at his left and a hand touched his shoulder as oxygen finally struck his lungs. He looked away from Cole’s struggling form and into the green eyes of the Beta female.
“Is he all right?” Dia asked briskly from the other side of the bed before she said something else, something he couldn’t understand, her eyes down. Nate looked over at her. She was still speaking, low and quick, and her eyes were fixed on Cole.
“I’m okay,” he replied before Nerys could speak for him. “I’m all right.” He pushed up to sit properly, the medium’s hand still at his shoulder.
“Are you sure?” she asked him, her voice dropped; Nate almost didn’t hear her over the fresh, feral roar that ripped out of the Alpha male. His heart made another leap up towards his throat. God dammit, this was ridiculous. He had known the pack, known Cole, for years. At first they had unnerved him, it had been a lot to take in and it had seemed only natural to be wary. They were real werewolves, after all. Flesh and blood lycanthropes.
But not once, in all that time, had he felt real fear. Not until now. One hand lifted and he almost wiped it over his face before remembering the gloves, stopping himself and lowering it to the floor again. In a voice that shook too much for his own liking, he said, “Yeah, I’m okay.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nerys turn her head in Dia’s direction and then shake it.
Damn. Nate had forgotten about that. Lying to Nerys Llanfair was practically impossible. She would be able to sense his fear, and not only because of her lycanthropy and the ability to catch it as all animals could. Damn. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“He startled me, that’s all.”
“You’re sure he didn’t hurt you?” Dia asked. “Dammit, Cole!” He was still fighting and she lost her grip briefly; thankfully the Alpha male didn’t hit her, Kyle shifted his grip and caught the older wolf’s wrist before he could lash out. That was wrong. So very wrong. Nate didn’t believe for a second that Cole would ever lash out at his mate. The fear started to simmer down, lowering inside his body, and he took several deep breaths. It was getting easier to do that. Nerys gave him a faint smile, just a subtle upward tilt of her lips. He almost didn’t catch it.
“Yes, I’m sure,” Nate said, getting to his knees then and setting his hands on the bed, both to steady himself and to show the Alpha female that his arms were clean. “He didn’t even touch me.” Dia’s warning had been just in time; Nate had managed to move before Cole could even get close enough to grab him. Again he pulled off his gloves, and then he got to his feet, Nerys rising with him. “He’s going to hurt himself,” he began, moving to where he had set down the bag he always kept locked in the trunk of his car, the supplies he had on hand at all times in case the pack called. From where he stood as he set the bag on the foot of the bed, he could see that Cole’s shirt had slipped down again with the force of his movements; the material was damp, and dark. Nate’s eyes rose and met Dia’s. Her hair was in her face, but she didn’t even seem to notice, still holding Cole down to the bed along with Kyle and Steven. The Beta male swore when he lost grip on one of Cole’s ankles long enough for the Alpha’s foot to lash out and clip him in the leg. Steven re-established his grip and looked down the bed to Dia, following her gaze to Nate.
Before Nate could even suggest it - the words didn’t even want to form in his throat, they seemed so ridiculous - Dia said decidedly, “We’re going to have to restrain him.” There was a frustrated resignation in her voice, she looked down briefly at Cole who was panting rapidly, sweating and struggling. “Do you have anything to calm him down?”
Nate breathed in and swallowed his hesitation. “Yes.” He was already applying a fresh pair of gloves, shaking his head in what he thought was a subtle manner until he looked up and saw Nerys watching him, a sad kind of understanding in her eyes. There was no getting anything by her, it seemed. Even as Cole’s dry voice rose again in another broken, growled cry, Nate turned his head to Rowena. Tone professional and collected again, he gave her a short, verbal list of what he needed; “It’s all in storage on the second floor.”
Her nod reminded him that she knew exactly where to find everything, but she didn’t argue, didn’t even hesitate before she turned and moved quickly for the door.
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“Hah, you suck.” Irina grinned as she collected the small pile of matchsticks from the middle of the table, pulling them towards her with just a touch of smug triumph.
Connor’s growl was playful, and she laughed. “Watch it,” he warned her with a devious edge to his words, “don’t make me-”
“Whoa.” Brennan lifted his good hand. “Save it,” he went on, shaking his head, “we’re trying to have a clean game here, remember?” To his left, Alannah laughed, looking across the table at her fellow female. The four fighters had been playing for about half an hour, and after the youngsters had left the room, Irina had endeavoured to switch on the stereo. None of them were sure what CDs were in the system, but they didn’t care, just as they didn’t care about the volume. Evidently, no one else did either. They hadn’t had any complaints yet.
“You forget, Bren’,” Irina said, leaning forward and pointing a finger in his direction, “Poker is never a clean game.”
Again Alannah laughed, her back against the rear of her chair as Connor watched the exchange with interest, saying, “That sounds like a challenge to me.”
“Careful,” Alannah put in, lifting a hand to sweep her black hair from her face, “this isn’t the time or the place for Strip Poker.”
It was Irina’s turn to laugh, even as she reached out and gathered all the cards to shuffle and deal them again, something she managed to do without even watching the motions of her hands. “‘Lana,” she began with a teasing lilt to her tone, “shame on you. You sound almost disappointed.” To her right, Connor picked up his hand and started arranging them with a smile on his face.
Before Alannah could respond, something in the very air itself seemed to change. Four heads lifted, eyes watching the ceiling as if they were waiting for it to change. “Did anyone else hear that?” It was the older of the two females who spoke, her blue-green eyes sweeping over the other fighters. They all agreed silently. Irina snatched the stereo remote from the corner of the table and jabbed it over her head to pause the music.
There was no question about the sound then; they all heard it, and they all knew it wasn’t normal. Irina wasn’t even sure her heart was still beating as she focused her ears as much as possible, pushing past all the ambient noise of the hotel itself to pick out that sound.
It was a voice. Someone was shouting.
No, not shouting. Roaring.
Something in her gut twisted in unwelcome recognition, and she met Alannah’s gaze across the table.
As one, the four fighters moved. Brennan’s chair tumbled onto its side with the abruptness of his motion, and instead of going around the table, Irina went over it, clearing it with one step. She didn’t look behind her to see whether or not the piece of furniture survived her trampling. Honestly, she didn’t care. A table could be replaced.
Together they bolted up the stairs, their training and experience as fighters coming to the forefront, their journey swift and purposeful. Alannah’s limp was gone, pushed down in favour of getting from A to B without delay. They followed their collective gut instinct, and they rounded the bend together, seeing the group outside a doorway they all knew even at a distance.
Everyone was on their feet, every pair of eyes was glued to the door itself; even Brock, the Husky, was watching the entrance to the room. The horrible sounds were seeping out from behind the solid barricade, and Irina internally said to hell with patience, moving ahead of her three companions to approach the door and the others gathered outside it. Her eyes lifted, touched with the hue of her wolf, her feral hair clinging across her face in wisps and tendrils. “Is that-?”
Keegan nodded silently, and collectively they all stepped back as a fresh roar struck their senses. Someone swore. Looking to the wall, Irina saw Meghan with her shoulders flat against it, hands lifted to cover her face as if expecting some kind of monster to leap out from behind the closed door at any moment. Connor, Alannah and Brennan came up behind and beside her. Keegan looked down at Connor’s hand. He was still holding the cards. Hastily he shoved them in his back pocket and lifted his empty hand to touch Irina’s elbow.
It was at that exact moment that the door flew open and a redheaded blur shot out and past them, moving with the swift grace only supernaturals could achieve. Irina didn’t watch the pack’s midwife run down the hallway. Her eyes were staring through the opening to the portion of the bedroom visible from where she stood. Cole lay on the bed, Dia, Steven and Kyle physically holding him down. Keegan reached inside quickly and grabbed the handle, shutting the door just as Nate stepped into view with a syringe in his hand.
Irina was silently thankful when the door closed. She couldn’t pull her eyes from where they had locked. Had she really seen that?
Somehow, it didn’t seem real.
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She didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to go through with what they had decided was necessary. All she could think was that she was somehow betraying him, and all she could hear was the pain in his voice as he fought them. Blinking back tears that only made her angry at herself, she shook her head and tried one last time to get through to him; “Please calm down. We’re not trying to hurt you. Please, just lie still, let us help you.”
Cole didn’t hear her.
Dia wanted to sigh, wanted to throw her hands in the air, maybe break something. She did none of those things, instead keeping her grip, taking in a breath, and lifting her gaze towards Nate. He had moved onto the bed again, and she did her best not to notice the filled syringe he held. There were unquestionable levels of trust when it came to the doctor and his knowledge and experience, but Dia just couldn’t shake the idea that what they were doing was wrong. Cole didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to be subdued like this, held down and drugged.
And then she remembered his bright eyes, the rattle of his growl, his predatory lunge for Nate.
“Do it.” The words were harsh, dry and bitter as they left her mouth. She blinked fiercely again, and looked down at her husband’s face. His eyes were closed, his breathing was impossibly quick and frantic, he felt like he was soaking through, his hair was clinging to his temples and forehead, plastered down by the sweat that seemed to pour off his frame.
Nate waited only until the three werewolves had an obviously firm grip until he used the needle in his hand. Dia felt her chest tighten painfully when Cole reacted, sounding wounded, trying to twist to see off the attack, his brows drawn in a wince. The Alpha female closed her eyes, and counted off the seconds in her head, kept hold of her mate and told herself over and over and over again that this was right. They had to do it.
It didn’t take long for whatever Nate had injected into Cole’s system to take effect. It seemed too quick, Dia thought, as she felt her mate’s struggles lessen beneath her hands, felt the tension seep out of his body. His breathing slowed and deepened, and a horrible, strained, weak groan fell from his mouth. The Alpha female opened her eyes.
Cole’s eyes were open just enough for her to see the amber-gold fade completely, leaving only the hazel-flecked green in their wake. The growls were gone, and all she could hear was the heavy in and out of his breathing, his body succumbing to the drug that had been forced into it. He wasn’t fighting anymore. “Let him go.” It was barely more than a whisper, but both males heard her, taking their hands from Cole’s body. Dia obeyed her own command, taking her hand from around her husband’s wrists and putting it to her eyes as she sank into a weary crouch, bowing her head to touch it to the edge of the mattress. “Forgive me.” He couldn’t hear her, she knew he couldn’t, and the words didn’t lessen that crippling knot of guilt and regret in her stomach, but it was all she could do for him then. And she hated that.
The sound of the door opening and closing again reminded her that it wasn’t over yet. Feeling thoroughly exhausted, she lifted her head and dropped her hand, her other still at Cole’s impossibly warm shoulder. His eyes had closed, but he wasn’t out yet, not completely. As Dia watched his face, they opened again, just a fraction. He wasn’t looking at her, wasn’t blaming her; she tried to convince herself of that, but there wasn’t a single part of her that believed it.
Rowena had stuffed everything carefully into a bag. Dia silently thanked her for that, remembering the small crowd gathered outside. They didn’t need to see what Rowena had come back with. The metal stand she held was the only obvious piece of equipment, and briefly the Alpha female wondered what it was before she remembered what Nate had said, mostly to himself, about Cole seeming dehydrated.
Sighing heavily, she pushed to her feet again, her legs aching as if she had spent hours in the training room non-stop, and reached out her hand towards Rowena, who now stood with Nate, the bag open between them. When they hesitated, she steadied her voice, and said, “I should be the one to do it.” She should be the one to start it, at least. It was only right. Cole was her mate, she was Alpha alongside him, if anyone was going to do it to him, it ought to be his wife.
Reluctantly but with an obedience that she inwardly appreciated, Nate handed her the first restraint. It felt deceptively soft in her hand, too soft to hold a werewolf, but she knew better. Nate would never keep supplies on hand if they wouldn’t work on a lycanthrope. Still, it was questionable whether they would hold someone as old as Cole. Looking down at him with the length hanging from her grasp, she realised he might not have the strength to break free when his body overcame the hold of the drugs. Dia didn’t allow her brain to add an ‘if’ in there anywhere.
Kneeling, she took in another steadying breath, reached out one hand to push damp hair from Cole’s brow, and then loosened the loop of the restraint enough to fit it around his wrist. He didn’t even react.
TO BE CONTINUED.