I took a breath, conscious of the sweet air. The bed under me was soft. I must be dead, I decided. There was no other explanation. I cracked open my eyes and was surprised to meet dark green ones boring into me.

My heart fluttered and I tried to sit up. He suddenly reached out and assisted me. Where he touched my skin, warmth like golden sunshine spread. I gasped as he pulled away, saddened by the loss of his weathered hands.

I studied him as we sat in silence. He must have been twenty-five. He was huge, over six feet with broad shoulders. I was relatively tall and could only come up to his mid-chest. His hair was golden, and eyes were a deep green. I was mesmerized by him. He looked like a medieval prince.

"You must be exhausted," he finally said. I nodded. He tilted his head. "Your ban on speaking was lifted, yes?" I paused and then nodded. "You said your name was Naomi?" I nodded again. He smiled. "I need to think of a question that is not yes or no."

We sat in silence for a bit.

He sighed, realization crossing his face. "I am realizing that a lot has happened since this morning. You shifted."

I cast my mind back. I remembered the fierce pain across my back. I guess I had.

"You're not a werewolf," he said.

"What?" I asked in confusion. I cleared my throat and took a drink from the cup beside my bed. "So... I didn't shift?"

In response, he stood up and walked to my side. He reached under me and began to stroke my back. Yet, it wasn't my back. I leaned forward, ignoring the pain in my shoulder and glanced back. I yelped as I realized what he was touching. Wings. I had wings. Panic flooded my system. I frantically tried to stand, to escape, to run, to cry, to—

Suddenly, I was pushed back down as my breathing became labored. What was wrong with me? I began to shake.

What was happening? I fought against the hands that were holding me down. I pulled my arm out of the sling to get the hands off me. Get off. Get off. Get off. Get off. Suddenly, my entire body itched, like I had a disease or was covered in spiders.

"Naomi!" he said sternly. I ignored him. I needed to breathe. To get out. The room was closing in around me. Get off. Get off. "Naomi," he repeated. "Look at me." I threw his hands off me and almost threw up as the room started to spin. "Naomi," he said, pushing me back down. Get off. Get off.

Finally, he sighed loudly and moved a finger up to my temple. Exhaustion collapsed over my body, and I finally looked him in the eyes. The rest of the room faded, and it was just the two of us.My focus narrowed down like tunnel-vision on his face.

"Breathe," he said calmly. I took a shaky breath. The white walls were replaced with golden light. Tears began to leak down my face. "Breathe," he urged gently. I took a deep breath. "There's nothing wrong. You are a winged one."

Once he said it, the panic deflated from my body, and I began to cry. I took another shaky breath. He reached out for my arm to guide it back in the sling and I flinched away. He sighed and stepped back, eyes betraying his hurt.

I blinked and we were back in the room. I guess we had never left.

"What's your name?" I asked quietly. I maneuvered my arm back into the sling, wincing slightly.

He smiled warily. "Damien."

"I'm sorry, Damien. I didn't mean..." fresh tears poured down my face, "to freak out."

He just nodded and leaned back. He must have been annoyed. He gently took my good arm and began to unwind the bandages. His touch was gentle and methodical. I watched him warily. The twelve burns were healing, but still visible. Zebra arms. "What happened here?" he asked, narrowing his eyes on my own. My heart thudded loudly. Did he think it was self-inflicted, too?  "Is the other arm the same?"

I shook my head. "No. Well, kind of."

"Be honest," he urged.

I opened my mouth and, like air bursting out of a balloon, words poured out. "Well, there's one burn and scars on the other. That was for milk. Someone had poured milk on me, and they didn't like that, so they burned me. It was for whenever I messed up. In the kitchen. Or they thought I messed up. The day your beta came, I was late. I had taken some pain killers for my shoulders because Charlotte made me clean with my shoulder. Well, someone pushed me, and I dislocated it and he re-located it. But then, they made me clean the cantina with only my injured arm, Charlotte's idea. But then, he told me to go to the clinic and I got painkillers, but they made me sleep for longer than normal, so I was late. Twelve minutes, so I got punished for each minute. I think it was only nine, but by the time Jody was done yelling at me, it was twelve after—"

I snapped my mouth shut; my eyes widen in shock. Had I really said all that? I took a deep breath. I met Damien's eye's desperately.

"Damien. What is wrong with me?" My heart was pounding.

He nodded and stood up. "I will be back, Naomi. Rest up. You should heal faster than you did before, but rest will be the key to that." He avoided eye contact.

I nodded. He left and I realized that a part of my chest felt empty. I don't think he would be coming back. If I was so messed up that he couldn't tell me what was wrong with me, then there was no hope.

Hope.

The hope that burned in my stomach had been extinguished. Bitter dread took its place.

+++++++++++++++++++

Taking over another pack was a delicate balance, Damien realized. He had only every done so with small packs that could be absorbed into his own. This one was a challenge. Part of taking over was to leave a certain amount of structure in place. Normally, he would have kept a kitchen manager and former almost-Luna. However, something had come over him.

When he heard what had been done to Naomi, he blacked out. When he came to, he had two bodies at his feet and absolutely no regret. No one was going to get away with hurting her. As he carried the bodies out through the woods to the cliff, he realized that his plan needed to change.

He would need to be much more careful with the winged one. Trauma had created an incredible opportunity and a great liability. He snapped from his thoughts. The bodies now at the bottom of the ravine, he was content. He could have made it a public execution to show his power, but for now, everyone was obeying, eager to show their worth to the new alpha. Hope was far more effective at motivating his pack than fear. 

With the immediate danger to his plan out of the way, he was anxious to get back. He remembered her deep blue eyes and honey hair. She was gorgeous; his hands were itching to run through her hair, to touch every inch of her. She had bloomed but was unmated, which meant she was open season for any horny and clueless werewolf. Anyone could come and claim her. With unimaginable potential came hazardous danger.

Before going back to see her, he showered in the alpha's suite. The water ran pink with blood.

Once he was cleaned up, he returned to the clinic and made his way to Naomi's room. She was fast asleep. He gently took her hand and rested in the chair. No one would touch her now. No one.