Michael 1988
My heart was broken for the second time in my life.
I'm torn into pieces. My mate's scent was long gone, but I'd still searched the entire hospital. Even ran down several blocks in every direction, but I couldn't find them.
Now I'm sitting in my sister's hospital room, the memory of my mate's scent driving me insane.
Juniper and that unknown plant I still couldn't place.
Now what?
In a single day, I'd lost my soulmate, and there was the possibility that my baby sister would die.
"Michael?" Grace's voice snaps me out of my thoughts.
"Hey, why are you awake?" I lean on the bed. "You were supposed to sleep for at least an hour."
"I tried," Grace pouts at me before coughing. Her little body shuddered with the effort.
"Here," I pour her a cup of water, helping her sit up so she can drink it. "Don't strain yourself, okay?"
"My tummy hurts," my little sister whispers.
"Well, Cheri, you haven't eaten anything in a couple of days," I reminded her. "You're hungry."
"Mommy says I have to eat the yucky soup they bring me," Grace looks at the empty tray. "I don't like it."
"I know, Cheri," I sigh. "But the doctor said you can't handle anything heavy."
"Can I have some more water?" Grace looks at the cup. "Please?"
"Sure," I helped her take a few more sips.
This was torture for all of us, especially Grace. She was starving, but her stomach couldn't handle more than jello and soup, but no kid wanted that every day.
"Where's mommy and daddy?" Grace asks me when she lies back down.
"I sent them to bed," I smirk at her as I rest my head beside her pillow.
That has her giggling, her pale face turning a little red.
"You didn't," she argues.
"I did," I chuckle. "I told them to go to sleep, and they did."
"That's funny," Gracie pulls her covers up. "Aren't you tired?"
"No," I tell her honestly. "I'm not."
"Why?"
"I've got a lot of things to think about," I sigh. "My brain won't let me sleep."
"Like what?" she asks me curiously.
"Well, I have to wait for you to stop playing sick," I lightly rush her nose, making her smile again. "But there are other things too."
"Like what?" Gracie asks me again.
"Mmm, it's grown-up stuff," I tell her with a tongue click.
"You used to tell me everything," my sister accuses.
"I don't want you to worry," The truth was, I didn't want to talk about it. The idea that I'd lost my mate without meeting them hurt too much.
"Tell me," Gracie insists, her smile turning into a frown.
"Gracie," I mutter, but her frown only grows, and she reaches a shaky hand out to me. "I lost my mate the other day."
"What do you mean?" Grace asks, her innocent mind not comprehending what I was talking about. She was too young to know about the mate bond or how you felt the first time you sensed your soulmate.
"My mate was here at the hospital," Even saying that much constricts my throat. "I smelled them, but they left before I could find them."
"Oh," Gracie blinks several times, her frown not going away. "Why don't you go find them?"
"I can't leave you," the confession was honest but not the whole truth. "And I wouldn't know where to start looking."
"Mommy says the moon goddess will make sure you find your soulmate," Gracie rubs her fingers on my hand. "She says she loves us too much to let us be alone."
Angie always did say that, but I wasn't a little kid anymore. I lived in the real world, and the truth was that some of us never found our soulmates. The world was too big, and the moon goddess could only do so much for us.
People died, and others like me missed their only chance.
For me, this was worse than rejection. Luthando whimpers at the idea, but at least then I would know my mate didn't want me.
This was limbo, and it wasn't like I knew who they were or where I could find them.
"Maybe," I nod, unwilling to dash my sister's belief in the goddess.
Honestly, I wasn't even sure I believed in her anymore. How much had I suffered already? My mom dying, my exile, now all of this?
Was she testing me? If she was, I was failing miserably.
"Michael?" My sister's voice changes, becoming more serious. "Will you do something for me?"
"Of course," I sat up, willing to do whatever I could to help my baby sister.
"When I die, will you make sure I get my favorite flowers?"
The request throws me off so badly that I can't answer her. My mouth feels dry, and tears well up.
"Gracie, you aren't dying," I shake my head.
"Yes, I am," she looks down sadly. "I heard the doctors talking. The medicines aren't working, and they don't know why I'm sick."
"Gracie, do you think I'll let you go?" I demand, my heart a mix of pain and anger. "I will not let you die."
"Please, the pink flowers, the ones with the pretty name," she begs, and I know her sadness is as deep as mine.
"Belladonna lilies," I mutter, remembering the flowers. A werewolf pack had stayed with us for a few days on their way home, and they had some of the flowers. Gracie had always loved them.
"Yeah," she nods weakly. "Those, and will you make sure to play that song I like?"
"Pat Benatar."
"Yeah," she smiles at me.
"You are not going to die," I repeat, but Grace ignores me.
"Mommy and daddy will be too sad to remember the things I like. You're the only one who'll make sure. You always take care of me."
"That's right," I agree, squeezing her hand. "So listen really close, okay? I am not going to let you die. I am going to find a way to make you better. I don't care if I have to hunt the moon goddess herself. I will get you better."
"Okay," Gracie's eyes start drooping. "But just in case, don't forget the lilies and the song."
"I'll make a deal with you," I brush back her hair, several strands falling out at my touch. "As long as you get better, I will bring you those flowers every day. No matter where I am, I will make sure you have them. But you have to stay with me. You have to fight."
"I won't give up," Gracie closes her eyes, still squeezing my hand. "But just in case."
"Just in case," I conceded reluctantly. "I promise."
"Good," she smiles before her breathing becomes steady, and I know she's finally sleeping.
It wasn't fair, and I didn't know who to blame.
Gracie had somehow learned that her life was at its end, and she'd accepted her fate when no one else could. I wanted her to make a promise that wasn't in her hands to keep.
A knock on the door makes me look up. I'd been so engrossed in my conversation I hadn't sensed anyone coming.
Laying Grace's hand on her chest, I walk to the door and crack it open.
A young woman in a black suit was standing there, a stern expression on her perfectly painted face.
"Can I help you?" I ask, not in the mood to be pleasant.
"Michael Branker?" her accent wasn't American. If I had to guess, she was German, but I could be wrong.
"Yes," I scowl. "What do you want?"
"I've been sent by the royal courts to handle your case," she doesn't seem phased by my attitude, and when she looks into my eyes, I see they're not human. A dragon. "Can we speak?"
Glancing back at my sister, the monitors steadily beeping, I nod and step into the hall before shutting the door.
"I don't have long," I warn her. "My sister needs me."
"What if I told you that's one of the reasons I'm here?" she doesn't wait for me to answer, turning and walking down the hall. "follow, we have much to talk about."
"Wait," I demand, running to keep up with her heels. "Why would the courts send you? I'm a werewolf."
"Your race plays little in the factors, Mr. Branker," she explains coldly.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Anna Marie Ficher," she doesn't even look back at me. "At least this is my human name. Which is sufficient for the moment."
This dragoness was definitely a court official. She showed no emotion, walked like she owned the place, which technically she did if she was high enough ranked, and talked to me like I was a spec of dust.
"My father said the courts didn't need to interview me to have my records brought back," I insist as she goes down another hall. "So, why are you here?"
Anna flares her nostrils at me, and I swear I see a hint of smoke coming out. It seemed she didn't like me one bit.
Opening a door at the end of this hall, she holds it open for me, and I see it's not a room but a doctor's office. Sitting where the doctor should sit was a tall man in a three-piece suit, playing with a tennis ball.
"Mr. Branker, this is Yusuf Denton. He shall be your assessor," Anna declares before slamming the door. "Sit down."
What the fuck was going on?