Season of the Witch (Claws Clause 2)

So that became his first question.

His throat was scratchy. When he spoke, the words were a harsh rasp. “What’s on my face. Why can’t I get it off?”

“Um… hang on, okay?”

The air shifted, his ears twitching as her shoes squeaked across the tile. He winced, the sharp squeak like a bullet to his brain, it was that piercing. He swallowed roughly, in a bid to keep his ears from hurting. All that did, though, was draw his attention to just how sore his throat was. It pinched when he swallowed, his tongue so dry it seemed to stick to the roof of his mouth.

Goddamn, he was thirsty.

The door shut with a click behind Shea. Since he wasn’t too keen on sitting there, vulnerable and lost, Adam decided that he needed to see what was going on for himself. He started yanking at the bottom of the material, muttering a curse under his breath when the edge of his fingernail scratched his cheek as he tried to unwrap the thick swath of bandages from around his head. He normally kept them trimmed short, but he’d been so busy doing undercover night work that he must’ve let them grow out longer than normal.

Jeez, how many times did they wrap the material around his head? He could feel it padding the back of his head as he jerked it up and off of his pillow. When it didn’t seem like it would be so easy as just unraveling it, Adam huffed in frustration before shoving it over his eyes.

He’d barely gotten it halfway when light broke through the darkness and he screeched. It was like his bedroom light had turned into a tanning salon; the bulb was a stark white that burned his eyes with only the tiniest peek.

As if she heard his pained shriek, the door flew open and Shea came rushing back in.

“What’s going on?” he demanded. “Why is it so damn bright in here?”

“See,” she said, her tone soft yet chiding, “now, that’s why I told you you should’ve left that alone. Hold on.” He felt her fingers run across the material and, he couldn't explain why, but the pain immediately faded. “Better?”

“Yeah. But I still want these bandages off.”

“I went and checked with the doctor and he said I could, but you have to wear some sunglasses for a little longer. Okay?”

Sunglasses. Inside. Normally, he would’ve thought she was fucking with him, playing games with the human, but that was before he reminded himself how much that bright light had hurt him. He wanted her to wear sunglasses? If that helped him understand what was going on, sure, he’d put on some sunglasses.

“It’s December. I hope you have a pair handy because I don’t know where I put mine after last summer.”

Shea finished unwrapping the bandages before she murmured, “Oh. Right. They’re—”

“I got ‘em right here, my mate.”

And... there he was. Wolfe. Just like Adam figured.

It didn’t take a genius to know that Wolfe was going to fully claim the witch before long. The Para had made it obvious, between his puppy dog looks and his snarls that Shea Moonshadow was his. If he thought he could get away with it, Adam was sure that he would piss a circle around her, marking his territory. Especially once he found out that the Nightwalker killer their task force had been tracking was trying to blood-bond Shea to him.

Julian Koenig.

The black cloud blocking his thoughts started to disperse at little at the merest thought of that name.

The last thing he remembered was…

Was…

“I was dead,” he said suddenly.

His eyes opened, clamping them shut again a few seconds later. Did he think it was bright before? That second look was like staring straight at the sun.

It had a purpose, though. Not only did he prove to himself that it was Shea and Wolfe hovering at the end of the bed—but he realized with a start that it wasn’t even his bed.

“Still are, Wright. Here.” The footsteps thudded against Adam’s skull. His eyes were screwed shut, the vicious light filtering in through the smallest of slits, and he winced at just how… how intense it all was. The footsteps stopped and the sheets rustled against his too-sensitive skin as the mattress dipped, then bounced. “Put those on. You’re gonna want to see my face when I tell you all about what happened.”

Finally.

Cracking his right eye open just enough to place the shades, Adam inched his fingers toward the sunglasses, snagging them by the arm. Almost immediately, he felt rather than heard an audible crack.

With barely any pressure at all, he had snapped the piece right off of the frame.