Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
I give him a faint smile. I want nothing more than to tell him I saw an undead wolf, but I’m realizing that might make me seem crazy. Even a normal wolf might be enough to worry and panic the others.
Still, I don’t feel good about keeping it inside, and I know I’ll have to talk to Kincaid about it later.
We’re halfway through the forest when I realize something.
The only person who didn’t come running was Clayton.
“It’s bruising, but it didn’t break the skin,” Everly says calmly as she handles my arm, cleaning it with solution. “Still, I think I’ll have to give you a tetanus and rabies shot just in case. Then a series of shots over the next couple of weeks.”
“Do you have to?” I ask.
I’m sitting in the nurse’s room, which is beside reception in the main lodge. The room is only accessed through reception, which meant a lot of Michelle fussing over me as they led me in here.
Kincaid is here with Everly, leaning back against the door with his arms crossed, as if he’s barricading it. His expression is serious, his brows lowered, creating shadows over his eyes, his mouth firm.
“Better to be safe than sorry,” Everly says, giving me a sympathetic smile. “It sounds like the wolf was rabid, and we can’t take that chance. Rabies is fatal once the signs show, and the last thing we need here is…well, that.”
The wolf wasn’t just rabid, it was dead! I’m screaming inside to tell her the truth. But I don’t want Everly to think I’m losing my mind, even though I know what I saw. Kincaid is already looking at me like I need to be in a psych ward.
She walks over to the cupboard and starts pulling out a few syringes. I can’t look, turning my attention to the posters on the wall, one of which reads Do You Know the Signs of Mushroom Poisoning?
“Can you roll up your sleeve?” she asks.
The arms of my sweater are fairly tight. “No.”
“Please remove it, then.”
“I’m not wearing anything underneath.”
“That’s fine,” Everly says patiently.
I look over at Kincaid as if to say, but he’s standing right there.
But he doesn’t look away, doesn’t protest and say it’s inappropriate like I thought he would.
I meet Everly’s eyes again, and she smiles faintly. “We’re all adults here, Syd. It’s nothing we haven’t seen before.”
I gulp. I suppose she’s right. At least I’m wearing a bra, albeit a cheap black one from Target.
I pull my sweater off over my head, feeling utterly self-conscious. I can feel Kincaid’s gaze burning my skin, visceral and real, and I don’t have to look at him to know that he’s staring at my breasts.
I swallow hard, feeling both on display and vulnerable yet desired at the same time, and I force myself to close my eyes as Everly wipes my upper arm with a sanitizing pad.
“This shouldn’t hurt much,” she says.
I wince as the needle breaks the skin, grinding my teeth together. I hate that I have such a low pain tolerance.
“One down,” she says. “One more to go. Just breathe.”
I get through the second shot, and when I open my eyes, Kincaid is still staring at me. His nostrils are flaring slightly, but his forehead is lined with concern.
“All done,” Everly says, sticking two circular Band-Aids on. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
It was awful, I think, in ways I can’t really explain.
I give her a stiff smile. “No.”
“And how is your head? Still no dizziness?”
“No more than normal.”
Her thin brows come together, a deep line forming. She definitely doesn’t have Botox. “You’re normally dizzy?” She glances over at Kincaid with a sharp look, as if this is somehow his fault.
“Yeah,” I tell her. “But it’s probably because I don’t eat enough.”
“Right,” she says slowly. “Hopefully, your appetite will return. All this exercise and fresh air, plus the food here is so good. Did you know our cook, Andrew, used to work at a Michelin-star restaurant? Only the best for the Madrona Foundation.” She gives me a prideful smile. “The best minds need the best nutrients.”
She straightens up. “I think we’re done here. You can put your sweater back on. And please let me know if you experience any memory loss, confusion, strange headaches, things of that nature.”
I quickly put my sweater back on and stand up, adjusting it.
“Thank you,” I say to her, but I stare down Kincaid as I leave the room, trying to send him a message with my eyes.
I need to talk to you.
I leave the room, dashing through reception so Michelle doesn’t bog me down with her blathering (the woman always seems on the verge of hysterics), and then step out into the common room.
Lauren, Munawar, and Rav are sitting on the couch, getting to their feet when they see me.