Rejected Mate and Following Fate - Awakening Book novel Chapter 60

I inhale heavily to self-calm and level myself out, shake my head and give myself an internal rattle to snap out of this. I haul out an oversized night shirt that Meadow gifted me in the manor, my all-time favorite, and underwear, and quickly strip, loving the feel of fitted soft delicate lingerie and an actual cozy and loose t-shirt, printed with delicate pastel florals, over grey sweats any day. It’s the little things that can restore you in weird ways.

I yank out my toiletries bag and find my hairbrush, facial wipes, and all manner of self-grooming products I left behind, as they were too heavy to lug around, and start to put myself to rights. There’s a mirror over the mantle and it’s only now I can see how grubby and scruffy I look and decide to quickly remedy it. I look like a hobo who hasn’t seen water in weeks, and my hair is a dull brown because it’s so dirty.

Meadow was right though; I do look different. My hair is longer, my face slimmer, and I seem to have aged a little in my time in the wilds. My green eyes seem brighter, the color more intense. My skin tanned gently from being outside all the time, and I have a natural rosy glow to my cheeks, nose, and forehead, that have brought out a few light freckles. I seem taller, but I think it’s because I stand differently now. Upright, almost proud, and the small amount of growth my hair has had, makes all the difference. Even dirty, the layers are softer and hang around my face and past my shoulders in a much more flattering style than how the orphanage used to cut it. I like this look, and I might just let it grow out fully.

I clean my skin, brush out my tugs as best I can and find all manner of debris and twigs in the knots. I feel grubby now I have clean pastel clothes against my skin and try and make myself presentable while contemplating linking Colton to ask if he has a bathtub close by. Although it’s late, and I am tired so maybe I should just clean myself up, sleep, and worry about bathing in the morning.

It feels good to have the ability to cleanse some of the grime off with wipes and I look around for a means to brush my teeth, as that in itself will make a huge difference to how gross I feel. I wander around looking for a water jug, or something I could use, and stumble upon a door I previously missed because it’s stained the exact color of the wood around it. A small door in the corner, next to the desk, that was almost completely concealed, tucked in and narrow, right at the side of the last cupboard, that I open in hopes of finding something useful. To my delight it slides open behind the wardrobe to reveal a tiny bathroom.

There’s a shower that looks newly installed, with an array of toiletries in a basket sat within, some towels hanging at the side, and a fluffy mat on the floor that hints this is where he gets ready most days. The smell of sealant and paint are faint in the air, as though this was a recent conversion, and I guess that makes sense if Colton had this room repurposed. He can get up, shower, and get ready here without having to go find an available bathroom. There’s a small wash basin, and toilet, fitted into the space snugly, but not so much that it’s crammed and I strip back off without hesitation, the urge to jump right in, desire overtaking tiredness with a need to be clean and hygienic once more.

The outside living is great when you’re outside, but once you’re back among people, and cleanliness, it really does make you feel all kinds of yuck. This right now, as I slide under hot water from powerful jets, is as close to heaven as I’ve been in a while. I close my eyes and tilt my face up at the jet, and let it wash over, cascading all my worries and aches away with the kind of goodness only a hot shower can bring.

Hot water, soap, shampoo. It all feels amazing to be back in civilization with real home comforts. No more river washes or using stones to scrub my clothes, and plain water to brush my teeth that always had a faint tint of fishiness to it. I can lie to myself every day and say that I was doing great out there and would happily have existed that way for an eternity, but one shower and it unravels all of it. The bed calling to me, soft sheets, and springy mattresses, and being able to walk barefoot on soft carpeted surfaces and not having to choke half to death on fire smoke to get any kind of lights in the dark. I was never built to be truly off grid, and isolated, and being back here highlights all of it.

I spend a good forty-five minutes scrubbing every single little inch of me and lathering up the shower products deliciously. They smell like Colton, but I don’t mind it at all. It’s comforting, familiar, much like his presence always is. He always smells good; citrus fresh, with subtle undertones of musk, a luring heady scent that ignites so many memories of being close to him at just smelling his products. On me it’s maybe a little masculine, but it’s better than woodland damp, and stale river water. It makes me feel human again, although it does kill any urge to sleep, and revives my energy levels which maybe I shouldn’t have done.

I brush my teeth when I get out, oddly obsessed with peppermint toothpaste now I get to use it again and redo my teeth four times just because I can. Running my tongue over shiny smooth enamel and the breathy fresh taste when I inhale. I brush out my damp hair after I rub it almost dry with the soft towels hanging nearby, and cover my body head to foot in the lotion from my bag that smells like tropical fruit, in a bid to smell female again. It does a great job of blending with Colton’s scents and I end up sort of pineapple tinted and smelling rather edible. I redress in my underwear and night dress quickly, and revel in how good clean feels. There’s no comparison to this kind of sensation.

I feel a thousand times better and scoot back to my cupboard to find thick fluffy bed socks for my now soft and supple feet, and climb on the bed to plait out the front of my hair to keep it off my face. The layers are long enough now, and always falling in front of my eyes so I French plait across the front and finish it off down one side of my face with a little elastic from my bag.

I hop up to admire myself in the mirror once more, and the difference it makes is amazing. Radiant and squeaky clean; my skin flawless in its sun kissed beauty, and glowing. My hair is lighter, and shinier once more, now the filth is stripped out and the natural highlights of my blonde are softly shining through. The style framing my face and drawing attention to my now slimmer cheek bones and long neck.

I look less child, and way more woman, and I can’t help the little confidence boost it gives me. My green eyes shining brightly back at me, despite hints of dark circles under my eyes, but overall, I look pretty. I never used to think I was anything of the sort, but now I see it. Like finally seeing what Colton sees, and it’s not a girl anymore, or a shy feeble little no one who used to cower away from all Santos. I now stand tall, with my chin tilted up, and there’s more presence to my posture than before. A look in my eyes that says fierce because I’ve lived through some amount of shit so far already, and no one is going to push me back in the shadows. I have fuller lips, defined bone structure, and a better length of hair that suits my face shape. I could give Carmen a run for her money looking like this, and honestly, side by side, I put my bets on me. It’s weird to finally appreciate myself this way.

I scan the room, aware that now I have this boost I no longer want to lie on the bed and the restless fire in me is up and revving inside. I don’t want to lie down until my hair dries anyway, and I now have the urge to go check on Sierra and see how she’s settled. Colton looked tired, so maybe I should offer to swap. Sit by his mom while he sleeps in here and gets some much-needed rest. I mean, we are sharing, sort of, so maybe we could alternate and when one uses it the other stays with Sierra, until we figure something else out.

I’m sure the only thing to sleep on in there is a couch, unless they have more beds on wheels to give him, and I make up my mind that it’s the only thing to do. He’s important to the pack and I’m not really, not right now anyway. He should rest well, in a real bed, in his own room, and I think I want to sit by Sierra for a little while, surrounded by noise, and movement, like I was in the forest, until I feel calmer about being back among everyday life. I need a transition period.

I check myself over once more as my night shirt slides off one shoulder, exposing soft peachy skin, and try to figure out if this is modest enough attire to go walking around the homestead. I’m covered, and the shirt is almost to my knees, not thin enough to see through. It’s baggy, and pretty shapeless, but it does cling to my breasts as it keeps sliding down off my left shoulder so that I don’t look frumpy in it. There’s a peek of shadow from my navy underwear, but overall, it’s just a shirt, I don’t need to get dressed. Not really.

With my mind made up, I pad out into the hall, clicking the door closed quietly behind me and realize t how quiet this place is for the hour. It must be after midnight for sure, but I can’t be certain, and tiptoe down the dimly lit hall towards the door we took Sierra through earlier, so as not to make any noise and disturb people who may be close by down here.

I know where the infirmary is, and I don’t hesitate in clicking open the door and sliding into the extra hallway that shields the infirmary from people walking in, the airy white painted box area with vinyl grey floor. I make my way through that second door too, to the double doors with windows, and through the glass I can see Colton sat by her side, reading a book to her. His back to me, and tilted down towards her at his side, so I can make out his profile and the book perched on the side of her bed.

The Doctor is asleep on a bed in the corner, looking completely comatose with a blanket thrown over him, and the femme medic is standing off to one side at a counter and doing something. I guess she’s on night duty while Doc sleeps. There’s no one else there, and the lights have been set to low, so the only illuminations of any brightness come from the medic at her workspace. The rest is dim, even where Colton sits, and I can barely make out the low hum of his voice as he talks to her.

I click open the door as quietly as I can and move in quickly, and silently, but he seems to know and immediately looks my way, catching my eye and then sliding his vision up and down my with an appreciative half smile as he does so.

You look knock out and much like the old you. Although why are you not in bed? He mind links me and despite myself I blush and make my way to him to stand beside him at the bed. Trying to ignore the rise in heart rate, and how overly aware I seem to be now I’m back beside him yet wearing noticeably thinner clothing, so his body heat warms me by being close.

My words die on my lips as my fingers slide fully over hers and I capture her hand in mine, a warming sensation travels up from my fingertips, and something crazy happens to me. My mind almost jolts with the force of an electric zap, that yanks me closer to the bed and I almost tumble out of Colton’s arms, but he catches me, hauling me tight to him.

I gasp out loud as my brain somehow loses all control of all faculties, my vision whites, out blinding me insanely, so that I grab hold of his leg with my one free hand to steady myself and lose all ability to hear, feel, or see. The only sensation I’m aware of is the burning connection from Sierra’s hand to mine, and the same burn coming through Colton’s arm around my waist. We’re connected all three of us, by touch, and it consumes me until I can’t fight it in any way.

I completely blank out, losing sense of everything. Him, her, the room, it all slips away, like trying to hold water with your fingertips, and all I can do is ride with it. I can’t open my eyes, or feel my limbs, or my body at all, like I’m a mass of unconnected thoughts with no physical form.

I try and take a breath but even that seems futile as I’m a nothingness, lingering in airless space, finding myself in a darkness that’s so eerie, yet familiar, as sounds and smells start to filter through and jog little moments of time. Distant at first, as though travelling along a tunnel, and they’re at the other end battling through a fog. They’re not the infirmary, they’re something else that tugs at my memory banks, and draws me back in time as I seem to start to fall into a memory that I never knew I had.

The smells of summer push me into a brighter place, and I blink and slowly manage to open my eyes, suddenly aware of touch, and sensation, as I regain full control of my limbs, but there’s no one here with me. Colton isn’t here, I can’t feel him, or sense him, and I seem to be in another space entirely. In a room, lying down, one that haunts me from the past. I lift my hand to touch my face and gauge the reality of what I’m seeing, and I’m startled to see it’s so small and childlike, and blink some more to clear the fogginess so I can look again.

Everything comes into slow focus, like a fade back in, and I know immediately where I am. The small attic makeshift room, hastily painted pink by the family that took on a child whose own had gone to battle. I’m back in the temporary room of my carer family, back when my parents went to war. The cozy bed, the painted dressers, and my ragdoll, Annie, sits on the side of my bed, watching me in my slumber. It brings back so many mixed feelings and memories, but none that I can ever recall like this. This seems new, and yet everything is here and exactly as I remember.

It's dull, night, although it’s not darkness so it must be summer, and I know I’m supposed to be asleep, but something stirred me from my dreams of my mother and father running through our meadow in a game of tag. My senses alerting me to the window in the far corner, and I watch in terrified silence, of a vulnerable child, as something begins climbing in with precise movements and silent intent. My heart hitches, racing, and pulsing so profoundly I feel it may rip from my chest. Frozen in terror, unable to cry out for fear the monster climbing in may see me if I make a noise.

The dark shadowy figure, wearing a large, heavy, black cloak, with the hood pulled up to veil their identity, slides up the unlocked panel of glass and slowly and carefully climbs inside, pulling their heavy robes with them, and almost soundlessly lands on the space in front of my window. I resist the urge to pull the covers over my face, my blood running cold with the terror of what is here, panic overtaking me, and I go to call out for my caretaker in youthful hysteria.

“Don’t be afraid, little one…. Hush now!” The female voice comes from under the hood, silencing me mid open mouth gasp with the familiarity of that sound, and a raised palm. I’m startled into quiet, because I know her. I recognize her smell, her sound, her presence, as it calms me and as she turns fully towards me. All I can see are two electric blue, glowing orbs, from the dark shadow of her hood as she looks at me directly. Her eyes mesmerizing and I’ve never seen such a color before.

“You know me, Alora. I’m here to protect you. I’m Luna Sierra Santo, I come as a friend of your mother’s…. Be still. I have much to do.”