But he was here with me now, and that’s all that mattered.
At some point I must have drifted off to sleep in his arms because I was awoken several hours later to the sensation of someone’s fingers brushing my hair off my forehead, and then tender lips pressed against mine in a kiss.
I slowly opened my eyes to find Daniel gazing at me as he lay beside me in my bed. A weak smile curved on his lips, but it was a smile, nonetheless.
“Hey,” I said, and pushed myself up on my elbows. “How are you feeling?”
“Better than last night.” His deep, dark eyes were locked on my face, as if it had been years since he’d seen me. “Thank you for staying with me.” He leaned closer and gently kissed my lips. I gripped him around his neck and pulled him in for a harder kiss.
“This isn’t a dream, is it?” Daniel asked. “I had dreams so realistic they were cruel.”
“Better the hell not be.” I laughed softly against his skin. “But it is hard to believe you’re actually here, isn’t it?”
“Then maybe we need to convince ourselves a little longer.”
We kissed again, longer and deeper. Quite some time passed before our mouths broke apart, short of breath.
“Remind me to wake up in your bed more often,” Daniel said with a heartier, devious smile.
“Not allowed. Never. Ever. Again.” I pushed him away with a playful slap to the arm.
“Ow,” he said, grasping his injured shoulder just below the red, blistered wound caused by the silver bullet.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Do you think you can heal that?”
He shook his head. “Already tried. Must have been caused by pure silver,” he said. “Not much I can do but hope it keeps healing on its own. Hurts like hell, but at least I can still use my arm. Do you know how this happened?” he asked about the wound.
I scrunched my eyebrows, concerned. “You don’t remember?”
He shook his head.
“You were shot. A couple of hunters in the woods. There was a whole hunting party out there looking for you—equipped with silver bullets, courtesy of Mr. Day.” I touched the reddened skin just under the wound on the front of his shoulder. “I’m glad it passed clean through. I don’t know if I’d have had the nerve to dig out a bullet. You seriously don’t remember getting shot?”
“It’s all patchy. I’ve got images here and there … Did you hit someone in the head with a rifle?”
“Yes. But he was one of the hunters who was trying to shoot you, so it was totally justified.”
“Totally,” he said with a smirk.
“Do you remember how we got out of the warehouse?” I asked, wondering just how much of his memory was affected.
“Partially. I remember watching you trying to fight off those wolves. And I remember jumping from the balcony and going all superwolf. But before and after that are really foggy. It’s like I remember feelings more than I do events. Like how I remember feeling like I’d do anything to save you…” He gave me a look, and I knew he was pained by the sudden memory of my almost dying. “And then when I was the wolf, it was like I could feel this undeniable force pulling me away. Pulling me to do something. Go somewhere. Find something. But no matter how far I went, I couldn’t find it. I kept running through the forest trying to get to it, even though I knew I couldn’t. And even though I didn’t want to go, it still pulled me away. I still don’t know what it was I was looking for.”
“I’m just glad you’re back now—and that you never felt the urge to kill anyone.”