Griffin

I woke up feeling weird.

Off.

I sat up cautiously, groaning at the way my body ached. I couldn't remember ever feeling like this. Oh, I'd been sore before. After a grueling training session or even after a particularly athletic round of sex, I'd felt a temporary pain. But this didn't feel temporary, and it wasn't concentrated in any one part of my body. I hurt... everywhere. And it was worse when I moved.

Was I... sick?

No. I shook off the ridiculous thought and clutched at my head when a wave of dizziness overtook me. It felt like I was spinning, but I was pretty certain my bed wasn't actually moving. My stomach clenched and a cold sweat broke out over my temple while chills wracked my body. I sank back beneath the blankets and curled up as small as I could make myself, but it didn't do much to make me feel any better.

"Griffin?" a deep voice said, altogether too close. I jolted in surprise and instantly regretted moving. A hand pressed above my brow and I could have cried from the relief it brought me.

"Griffin?" he asked again, but I couldn't respond. I was too busy scooting myself to be closer to my mate. I was lying on his lap with my arms wrapped securely around him before I even consciously registered any decision to move.

That felt so much better.

Wulfric's hands brushed my hair back, and I realized I must be sweaty and gross from the cold, clumpy way my hair followed the motion. "What's wrong with me?" I whispered. I hadn't meant to say it out loud, but I was glad I did when Wulfric's arms wrapped around me supportively in response.

"I'm not certain," he said, and I distantly registered that he sounded worried. "I thought werewolves don't get sick."

"We don't," I agreed. "We can get hurt, but not sick. Not after our shifts start."

"And yours have?" he confirmed.

I snorted, torn between offense and amusement at the idea of not shifting by my age. Amusement won. "Um, yeah." My tone added the "duh" for me.

Wulfric's arms tightened around me. It would have been really nice, if I didn't suddenly feel really, really gross. My mouth watered, my throat worked, my stomach heaved, and chills wracked my body. My stomach lurched even harder, and I clamped my hand over my mouth. Bile burned my tongue, and I wrenched myself out of Wulfric's hold just in time to throw up on the floor instead of the bed.

I groaned and slumped back against Wulfric, enjoying a strange sense of relief for all of two seconds. Then I was horrified. Could anything be more humiliating? The scent burned my nose, and I knew Wulfric's sense of smell was heightened like mine. It had to have taken over his senses just as much as mine.

"Oh my God," I groaned in horror. And, to make matters worse, my stomach lurched again, my throat working painfully in ways I wished I could make it stop. At least now I knew what this feeling meant, and I was able to dash to the bathroom on wobbly legs that gave out in front of the toilet just in time for another round of vomiting.

Even though it was gross, I rested my sweaty forehead against the cool toilet seat. It did bring some relief, and so did the way my stomach seemed to settle.

"What's your phone password?" Wulfric asked. I turned my head to squint at him in confusion. I wished he would leave me to my misery so I wouldn't have to add further humiliation to what was already a pretty terrible morning.

"What?"

He shook his head and efficiently took my hand, pressing my index finger to the sensor on my phone. It unlocked with a little snick. I was too drained to bother questioning what he was doing, at least until he brought the phone to his ear as the sound of a ringing line filled the room.

"Took you long enough," I heard Pop say. "We've been trying to reach-"

"Pardon me," Wulfric cut in, instantly silencing Pop. "Something's wrong with Griffin."

"Where is he?" Pop answered, his tone suddenly all business.

"What's wrong?" Dad asked in the background.

"We're in his room in the pack house. He's..." Wulfric hesitated, frowning at me in confusion. "He's sick."

I stopped paying attention to the conversation. I was pretty sure my stomach was settled, and I was desperate to get the rancid taste out of my mouth. My legs were a little unsteady when I stood, but I forced them to hold me up anyway, and quickly went through the motions of flushing, washing my hands and forehead, and cleaning out my mouth. Twice.

By the time I was done, the front doorknob was rattling and Wulfric zipped over to open it. My dads rushed in, and it was obvious they were out of their minds with worry. They had to have shifted and sprinted to get here so fast, which explained the ill-fitting clothes they must have gotten from the shed outside, kept stocked to keep people from having to walk around naked after an ill-prepared shift.

Dad wrapped an arm around my shoulders and guided me to the couch and Pop pulled Wulfric aside to get the full story. Dad didn't say anything to me, and I knew he was listening in as Wulfric explained his observations this morning. When he got to the vomiting, I ducked my head down and pretended not to exist. Dad stroked my curls and brought me a glass of water before disappearing into the bedroom. While he cleaned up in there, Pop came over and examined me with hard, worried eyes.

"We need to get you to a doctor," he said.

I groaned in protest, though I knew he was right. It was just that the pack's clinic had no privacy at all and was really tiny. People so rarely needed any serious medical attention, there wasn't any need for a big facility. There was just the main exam room and a birthing suite. I pictured my entire extended family jamming themselves into the room and shuddered. That would be so overwhelming for Wulfric, and I didn't want him to leave.

Pop must have mistaken my shudder for a shiver, because he looked even more worried and scooped me up like a baby and carried me out the door. "Everett!" he called. I heard the sink and the squeaky soap dispenser, and then Dad caught up to us in the hall. Wulfric followed silently in the back, and I desperately hoped no one came across our grim little procession.

Wulfric just had to call my parents.

One of our doctors, Laura, was sitting at her desk, typing on a laptop, when we entered the clinic. She instantly stood, her eyes quickly assessing the situation and settling on me.

Pop set me down on the exam table, which was already covered in crisp, white paper, and quickly listed out the symptoms he knew about for Laura.

She donned her doctor's coat and pulled a bright light out of it to flash in my eyes. "Are there any more symptoms?" she asked me.

Pop had listed out vomiting and fever and mentioned that I seemed unsteady. I didn't want to admit that there was more. They were worried enough. But Laura's eyes were fixed on mine, and I had a strong feeling she would know if I lied. "I feel really sore all over and I keep getting chills," I admitted.

She nodded, continuing her silent examination. My arms were manipulated, my reflexes checked. She listened to my heart with a stethoscope, though I wasn't sure what she thought she'd be able to hear with that device that she couldn't pick up with her own ears. Finally, she straightened. "I need to talk to Griffin alone."

I saw Pop open his mouth to protest, but Dad gently pulled him from the room before he could. Wulfric frowned, but followed after them without a word. I really hoped he wouldn't leave.

Once the door shut behind them, Laura rolled her stool over and pumped it up so she could sit at eye-level with me. "I've seen something like this before," she said. "I need you to tell me honestly what happened last night."

I blushed and accepted that this was the most humiliating day of my life. "Um." It was the most I could get out.

"Did you know that I work at the hospital in town a couple days a week?" Laura asked. I nodded, grateful she wasn't pushing me to speak. "Last week, I had to extract a quartz crystal from a woman's vagina. I assure you, whatever you tell me won't shock me, and I won't judge you. I stopped being surprised by what people do in their free time a long time ago."

Just what did she think I'd been up to last night? But I did feel a little bit better after her little story. Besides, Laura and I didn't really cross paths much, even though we were in the same pack. I could always avoid her for the rest of my life after all this was over. "Wulfric and I..." I tried telling her, but that was as much of the story as I could get out.

Laura waited patiently, and after a few excruciating minutes of solid silence, I accepted that the only way out of this was through. "I, um, fed him. And then we had sex." Amazing sex, but I didn't add that. "There wasn't anything weird about it, though."

"Is he your mate?" Laura asked. I nodded. "Was it the first time?"

I looked down at my hands. Even vomiting was more pleasant than this conversation. "I wasn't a virgin or anything," I said, and felt my ears heat up at the shame of it. Werewolves were supposed to wait for their mate. Somehow, my mate accepted my past. I didn't particularly want to get into it with anyone else.

"But was it your first time with Wulfric?" Laura asked gently. There was no hint of judgment in her voice, and I took a quick peek at her eyes to make sure. She really didn't seem to care.

That made it easier to answer the rest of her questions. "Yes."

She nodded briskly. "I didn't see marks on either of you," she commented.

"We didn't mark each other," I confirmed.

Laura tapped her fingers on her lap. "I've heard of similar happening before. An incomplete mating can wreak havoc on a werewolf. It goes against all our instincts, and it can weaken your wolf side."

I shivered, though I wasn't sure if it was the situation or another round of those awful chills making me feel this way. "I can't mark him yet," I said, and prayed she wouldn't ask why. I hardly understood it, myself.

She frowned. "I don't know of another way to make you feel better. It's what your body needs."

But it wasn't what my mate needed. And wasn't that more important? I couldn't force a mating on Wulfric before he was ready, and there was no way he was ready yet. I didn't know how long it would be until he was.

I had been planning on marking him last night, and I knew Wulfric had known to expect it. But in the moment, it hadn't felt right. Scraping my teeth on his neck had helped a little, but now that I thought about it... maybe that was when this sickness happened. I had felt uneasy even then.

Now that I had time to really think about it, I knew I'd made the right decision for my mate. Last night was the first time in our short acquaintance that I didn't see any reserve in his eyes at all when he looked at me. I wanted him to look at me like that all the time when I finally did mark him.

Laura was still watching me sympathetically, and I could only imagine what she must be thinking of my situation. A werewolf with a non-werewolf mate (could she identify vampires by scent? Probably not), who had a promiscuous past and who wasn't able to fully commit to his new relationship. Told that way, our story made me seem really pathetic.

But it didn't matter how I looked to Laura or to anyone else. What mattered was that I was doing what was best for my mate.

Something curious happened; as my resolve strengthened and I really started believing that I had done the right thing, I started to feel more normal. I shifted Laura's her gaze in discomfort at the direction of my thoughts, and the motion didn't hurt.

Cautiously, I tested out my body. Swinging my arms out, kicking my feet. Then, standing. I even tried jumping in place a couple of times, and my legs didn't wobble at all. It all felt... okay. A little weak still, but better. I glanced at Laura to see what she thought about it, and she was watching me with a little frown.

"I don't think you should be-"

"I'm okay," I cut her off. I knew it was too good to last. I would probably feel awful again later, but I wasn't going to question my miraculous recovery now, and I wasn't going to waste it sitting here on a cold, hard exam table. "Thanks for your help."

"I didn't do anything," she said, still frowning in concern.

She did, though. She identified the problem. Maybe having sex with my mate without marking him went against my instincts, but there was a stronger instinct I thought I might be able to fall back on: the instinct to protect Wulfric. Maybe as long as I was consciously acting in his best interest, the partial-mating sickness wouldn't affect me.

I hoped.

It was the only idea I had.