The Mystical Attraction of Alpha

Chapter 136

Chapter 137 – The Herb

Ella

My grief keeps me awake far longer than I’m sure I could have managed otherwise. I’m alone, so I don’t bother trying to quiet my keening, wailing my despair into the night air. I’m not sure how long it will take for the shift to take hold, but I pray that the violent transformation will generate enough heat and energy to allow me to survive. The possibility that it might fail seeps into my mind and suddenly I wonder if I should have just let myself fall asleep, rather than meeting my end in agony.

Oh Goddess, I should have taken the herb hours ago. I think woefully. Now it’s probably too late.

This thought only makes me cry harder, but there’s also a growing kernel of warmth in my belly, pulsing inside me and radiating the strangest sensations through my body. Suddenly the entire forest explodes into a cacophony of sound – chirping crickets, croaking frogs, the low hoot of an owl, and other things I can scarcely recognize. I can hear small animals scurrying below the snowpack, and the sound of the wind rustling through the trees for miles away. It’s too overwhelming, and I’m amazed by the images that appear in my mind, explaining each sound with a clarity I couldn’t have possibly imagined. It’s almost as though I can see sound… and I realize this must be how it is for wolves all the time. The herb is working.

Then I hear something else, pounding footprints crunching through the snow. “No! No, no, no.” I moan desperately, my mind slowly piecing together the puzzle of information. If I hear footsteps it means… it means either Sinclair or the Prince has finally caught up with me. Either way… I’m going to be found imminently, which means I didn’t have to take the herb after all. I find the strength to push my body up on my hands and knees, sticking my fingers down my throat and trying to make myself vomit… to undo the horrible mistake.

That’s how Sinclair found me a few minutes later, sobbing and gagging, begging the Goddess to take back my rash actions. “Ella!” He shouts, racing towards me. “Oh thank the stars.” His voice pierces my skull at a terrifying volume, and I clamp my hands over my ears, crying out.

me, misunderstanding my pain. His voice is still too loud, but the pain in

I cry again, my chest heaving.

his knees in the snow beside me, wearing head to toe tactical gear that no doubt kept him perfectly warm through his own alpine trek. His arms reach for me, but I jerk away from him, my adrenaline spiking again now that my baby’s life is in unnecessary danger. I’m crying so hard I can’t catch my breath, but I still can’t make myself vomit. The surreal power swirling in my stomach only grows stronger, and I know there’s no reversing

explain, my words coming out babbled and slurred. “I didn’t th-think… I had…

second in command. “We need an extraction right now. Call for a chopper.” I

dragging me into his embrace

discover I can detect the pilot’s voice just as easily. Sinclair’s heart beat is pounding

body with his hands, generating heat through his thick jacket. “We don’t have much time.” He says then, clearly talking to his men. “She’s about

first –” One of the men starts to question, clearly not in on the secret of

we need

arms, and I sob into his neck. “Th-the p-pup.” I moan.

takes off at a run, and suddenly I understand how he reached me so fast. Even carrying me on two legs, he and his men are five times as fast as a human, and probably ten times faster than I’d be stumbling and falling through the deep snow in my

shut and blurred with tears, but my nose is suddenly every bit as overwhelmed as my ears. Sinclair’s familiar aroma has been magnified by a thousand, deepened and more complex than I’ve ever experienced before. It’s so strong I almost feel intoxicated with it, but I can smell other things too,

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