Epilogue: Regrets

The furs were soft against my fingertips, warm around my body. That was about all the comfort I seemed to be allowed, though. Sure, there was a bed of sorts under me, but it could have been the universe's most luxurious mattress and I still would be miserable and full of pain.

When considering the alternative, I knew that I really had jack shit to be complaining about.

I hadn't left Wolf's bed since I'd woken up. Those first few seconds of consciousness had been terrifying—waking up in a strange place with a strange face staring down at me . . . it had been Wolf's servant, in the end, and Wolf had shown up soon after and chased them away.

A weird, insect-like alien staring at you was not the greatest way to come back into the world.

Though I was still somewhat mobile, moving only made everything worse, so I just didn't.

Nothing he fed me would stay down unless it was a liquid.

All I could do was sleep in fits and starts and lie on my side, curled in the fetal position.

Mostly it was my abdomen that hurt the most, but my legs weren't up to snuff either. There was a long, precise scar running from my sternum to my navel. They'd vivisected me, then removed the two nesting chestbursters and stapled me back up.

It seemed they'd removed the pins in my knee, too, as it was freshly bruised. Whoever the doctor was, they'd been nice enough to use the previous operating sight, so there was no new scar.

Wolf hadn't euthanized me.

I wasn't wearing a whole lot, just a stiff fabric shirt without sleeves. My clothes were piled up in the corner, still dirty and ripped.

Painkillers would have been nice, but these people were of the belief that pain was weakness leaving the body. I wished sometimes that I was back in that cell and on ice, but I didn't think I was even on his ship anymore. It didn't feel like we were moving.

Well . . . mostly. Sometimes it seemed like the whole room was spinning.

I hadn't seen any more of Wolf's kind, and it had been . . . quite a while since he had left me. Every now and again I was visited by that strange mantis-like alien.

They freaked me out, but I wasn't in any condition to keep them from doing their thing. Which was feed me and help me walk to and from the facilities, which had taken some getting used to.

Probably to keep my muscles from becoming atrophied.

There wasn't even any way for me to know how long it had been. The weird mantis-things occasionally opened up the shutter to what I assumed was a window to let in some light, so I kept the time that way. I had to wager a guess of around four days since he'd surreptitiously left.

My time outside of bathroom breaks was spent nearly catatonic, curled up in Wolf's bed, and cocooned in his furs.

I'd fucked everything up.

This wasn't how any of this was supposed to work. I should have been . . . out, killing things with Wolf. Yet, there I was—moping in the dark. Lamenting my lot in life. Whimpering quietly when I shifted the wrong way.

Finally, though, Wolf returned. It was a tiny bit of light in my otherwise bleak non-life. I wanted to be mad at him for ditching me, but I couldn't summon enough energy to feel anything even resembling anger.

I only knew it was him entering because the footsteps were different. The manntis-thing was graceful and quiet, and Wolf's were heavier like he wasn't trying to tip-toe around me. I refused to turn and look at him, but I did at least acknowledge he was there with a whisper and a cough.

He chittered something at me, but I can only kind of shift my shoulder to look in his general direction. I was still wrapped up in the furs, trying hard not to be seen. Not until I was 100% better.

When I wasn't so disappointed in myself.

Wolf played a recording. {"Where's Nichole?"}

My eyes shot open at the sound of that voice. I stirred, gritting my teeth, and struggled to roll over. He came over and helped me, letting me use his muscular arms to pull myself up.

When I'd managed that, I propped myself up on my hands and let the furs fall down to my waist—only barely aware that I was practically naked.

{"Why isn't she with you?"} the recording continued.

Though my mouth and throat were dry, I swallowed and searched Wolf's face (or mask, really) for answers. He played more of the recording and my heart almost burst.

{"Is she okay?"}

Tears pricked the corner of my eyes and I tried to wet my mouth so that I could speak. At last, I managed to.

"You saw Devon?" I asked, my throat full of sand and voice only a whisper.

{"Please just let Devon know that I'm okay."} My voice, from inside the cell. {"So long as one person at least thinks that I'm okay, then I'll be alright."}

{"Where is she?"} Devon's voice again. I realized that he was going through his entire interaction with Devon. Or most of it.

{"I'll be alright."} Wolf had repeated for him with my voice.

Oh, how much I wanted to see his face, to see firsthand how that conversation had gone. What I would've given to have had the conversation with him myself.

I sank back to the bed again and lifted my heavy arms to press my hands against my head as if I could squeeze hard enough to keep the tears from falling down my cheeks. I was in no condition to fight my emotions anymore.

All this time I'd spent in bitter reprieve over my mistakes, marinating in my resentment, Wolf had been out delivering my message because I couldn't.

He'd done so much for me and I didn't deserve any of it. I'd made him wait seven years and inserted a third wheel into our reunion. I'd complained, I'd inconvenienced him I'd . . . I'd become this hollow shell of what he'd seen when we'd met.

From the moment he'd pulled the Hybrid off of me, I'd been a wreck. A complete and utter mess.

And now I was a broken shell. A bruised, barely-recovering burden in his bed.

"Why?" I asked aloud, wondering if he could hear me with my face pressed into the mattress. "Why are you doing all of this for me?"

Wolf regarded me for a moment, then played more of the recording from his time with Devon. {"You take care of her, you hear me? I don't care if I have to build a rocket ship myself, I'll find you and I'll kick your ass if you don't!"}

If it didn't hurt so much, I might have laughed.

{"You'll watch out for her?"}

When I looked up at him, he straightened up and nodded his head once with a stalwart growl. I bit my lip to keep it from quivering and looked away again, touched by his gesture. I knew he wouldn't do it just because Devon asked him to. Not if he didn't want to already.

The bed sank in as Wolf sat next to me. He put a hand on top of my head and I reached up to take it in mine, rolling onto my side. He gripped my fingers and I held his rough, warm hand against my bruised and swollen chest.

It was a comfort, holding his hand in both of mine. He didn't move away even as I quietly cried in equal parts despair, relief, and pain.

I didn't deserve his generosity or his attention. I didn't deserve this moment of affection.

Not yet.