Losing Myself in You (4 page)

Bridgette's visit to the Nocturnal Defense Society's physician didn't exactly go as the she had planned. Dr. Cooper – with his friendly smile and thick-rimmed glasses – did his best to put her at ease, but she hated waiting. She always had. The one thing her mother told her as she grew up was that she had to work on was her patience. And though Bridgette really did try, it was incredibly hard for her to do so.

What she had to wait for, of course, were the test results.

Bridgette had allowed them to exam the bite – take photographs, make measurements, apply Neosporin and a bandage to it – and to take two vials of blood from her arm. She hated getting her blood drawn. She didn't have too much of a problem with needles themselves, but the feeling of them sliding into her arm irked her to no end. In fact, she couldn't actually watch the procedure, knowing her brain would trigger a pain reaction if she did so.

Once finished, she was bandaged up and sent home with orders not to engage in any physical activity
so she wouldn't strain herself on top of the fact that she needed some well-deserved rest. It was incredibly hard for Bridgette to follow her doctor's orders though, because she had so much anxious energy built up. The best thing she could do to get rid of said energy and to keep unanswered questions at bay was to do little things around her apartment.  Firstly, she went to her bedroom and lit a fire in the fireplace directly across from her queen-size bed.  Once that was finished, she headed into the kitchen and boil some milk so she could make her hot chocolate.

The setup of her apartment was basic, but the size of it emphasized luxury.  Her living room consisted of a flat screen television, a couch, and a glass coffee table with various magazines sprawled out of the surface.  The floors were entirely wooden, which made for cold feet in the mornings should Bridgette choose to forego socks.  There was a book case against the wall behind the couch filled with various books – most of them romance, few of them nonfiction – all of them read.  Her kitchen had a marble bar that separated itself from the living room, and tucked in the corner was a dining room with a table suitable for four.

As the milk boiled, Bridgette changed into flannel plain pajamas and tugged her hair out of a ponytail.  She ran her fingers through the tresses before heading back into the kitchen to finish her task.

With a mug of the hot drink in her hand, she headed to the bookcase and grabbed a book – this one with a Viking on the cover – and headed
into her room.  The fire was warm and cozy, and she hoped that with the drink and the book, she would get comfortable enough to fall asleep.

---

It took two days until the physician had called her back into his office to give her the news.

"I hav
e good news and bad news," he told her with what attempted to be a friendly smile, but upon looking into his brown eyes, Bridgette could see how wary he was of the situation. He was looking at her differently than he had before. Something was definitely wrong.  “Which would you like first?”

"Bad," Bridgette said quickly
and firmly. She tried to sit and managed to accomplish the feat, but her anxiety built, and to release it, she subconsciously began to jiggle her left leg. "Bad news first." And then, upon further thinking, added, "Please."

Doctor Cooper tried to smile upon hearing the last word, but it was strained in vain. Instead, he forced his eyes down to the paperwork in his grasp, trying to think about how to explain his findings to her without upsetting her.
  He slid his glasses up the bridge of his beak-like nose. She couldn't be too emotional. Not with the information he held in his hands. He cleared his throat, shuffling the pages, but that did little good with helping him find the proper diction to sound reassuring. diction to use as explanation.

"Okay," he finally drawled, slow and articulated. "The bad news is…" He forced himself to look into her eyes. "
Your DNA showed evidence of your attacker, but after what you told me, we already knew it was Marcus Sterling who did this to you.  Because he is the Alpha male of his pack, he is the most powerful wolf in the area. He also has the strongest amount of venom. A small bite could literally turn a human being into a werewolf if that was his intention."

"He turned me?" Bridgette panicked, her
eyes going wide. "You're saying I'm a werewolf?"

"No," the physician clarified, shaking his head. "Not yet, at least. Now, Miss Barker, it is imperative that you calm down right now. You cannot overreact or get too emotional in your state."

"You make it sound as if I'm pregnant," she said, her voice still shaky.  She began to twirl her ponytail around her index finger, trying to get her body to relax. It was the hardest thing she ever tried to do, and it should be noted that she didn't quite accomplish it. Her leg still jiggled.

"Well, you're not," Cooper told her flatly, giving the young woman a
flat stare. "And it's no time for jokes, Miss Barker.
Marcus
Sterling's venom has mixed thoroughly with your bloodstream. Even though it is a mere bite, his venom has spread to the point where a blood transfusion would be impossible."

“So…. What does this mean?” she bit out before clenching her teeth.

“It means I cannot conclude one way or the other what is happening to you,” he told her.  “I have no idea what Sterling’s intentions were when he bit you.  You could be a werewolf, but you could also still be human with his DNA fused with yours.”

"
So I could be a werewolf? Can you at least tell me when I'm going to change? Is that the good news?"

"I'm afraid not," Cooper said solemnly, shaking his head. "Your change could be spontaneous. We have no record of an Alpha male selecting a human mate on record so there's no way for us to know when you’re expected to transform
, if you transform."

"So what's the good news, exactly, because I'm not sure there is any at this point," Bridgette snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. She wasn't exactly mad at the physician; she knew he was just doing his job, but she was incredibly frustrated with herself and furious with
that wolf, the bastard.

Bridgette glanced around the windowless room.  It was small, filled
with various medical equipment.  It was confining.  It was getting difficult to breathe.  "I can't get his DNA out of my body?” she said, her voice rising with every word.  She needed to calm down, but even putting her hand over her heart wasn’t working. “I literally have no choice in the matter? There is no way I would ever want to become his… his mate, or whatever the proper term is. I mean, can't I press charges? Can't I get him locked away for the rest of his life?"

"I'm sure you could, but it wouldn't be a good idea," the physician warned. "
If you do transform and possibly fall in love with him, if he is arrested, you'll feel as though a piece of your soul is literally torn from your body."

"I'll never fall in
love with him," Bridgette said without hesitation.

Dr. Cooper
went on as though she never interrupted him. "It is imperative that you take reigns on your emotions, Miss Barker," he reiterated. "If you feel one emotion too strongly, he can feel it too. You are connected. It is also true that if you call him, he will know to come to you.  These things we do know for certain.”

"Now, you asked for the good news, hmm?" Cooper shuffled through more of his papers before looking back at Bridgette. "The good news is that the bite is not fatal nor is it detrimental to your health."

"That's it?" Bridgette asked, completely astounded at that sliver of news.  She shifted her weight so the plastic on the examination seat crinkled underneath her. "That's the good news?  That I'm alive?"

"Aren't you glad you will live?" the physician asked.

"Of course," she replied. "It's what I'm going to live as that I'm worried about."

---

Bridgette Barker, for obvious reasons, was extremely upset. After getting the results back from the doctor, she got into her worn-in pick-up truck and screeched her tires out of the parking structure. Now what was she supposed to do? Was she going to get fired since she was very possibly turning into the very thing she was supposed to hunt? Maybe not; there were a couple of werewolves and vampires that worked for the NDS. Maybe she could be a part of the Undercover Unit.

But she liked her current job. She didn't want to transfer.

This was all the Alpha’s fault.

Before she realized what she was doing, she made a sharp U-turn and began to head for the outskirts of the town. She needed to talk to someone about her current predicament.

She still wasn't thinking clearly when she parked the car and got out, all but stomping up to the porch and all but banging on the door.

After a few moments, a butler
– probably a newly-indicted member of the pack - finally opened the door, looking at Bridgette with subtle surprise. "Yes?" he asked.

"I need to speak to Marcus Sterling," Bridgette said, trying to heed the doctor's warnings and keep a hold of her emotions. She also made sure it sounded as though she was not calling for him, though she was tempted to do so if it actually worked.
  Surely he already knew she was here, if they really did have a connection.

"He's not here right now," a silky, feminine voice said, cutting the butler off. She cast one icy look at the servant before he nodded once and left, letting the two women speak in private. "May I ask what this is about?"

Bridgette was caught off by the beauty this woman possessed, and she paused as her mind took in the sight of a surprisingly fragile-looking wolf.  Normally, they were more broad, tough, physically able-bodied.  Not so… petite. The wolf was a few inches taller than she was, with straight, ebony hair, pale skin, and incredible blue eyes. Her lips looked naturally red, and her body was tight and toned while still having a good amount of curves. And when she spoke, her voice was smooth, and she revealed an impressive collection of white teeth.

"I don't think so," Bridgette said, feeling her confidence dwindle slightly. "You know, I'll just come back when he's around. It's important that I talk to him."
  She turned and started to head back to her car when the wolf stopped her with a soft cry.

"Excuse me
?" Bridgette turned and she smiled as brightly as she could. "Is it about the mark on your neck?"

Bridgette paused, not sure if she would admit to it or not.
She took advantage of Bridgette’s hesitancy, and continued. "You know what it means, right?"

"No, actually, I
don't," Bridgette said, finally turning to face her.  She wasn’t sure if she should trust her.  Why would a wolf want to help out a stranger to the pack anyways?  What was in it for her?

"Despite what you may have heard about the mark and what it represents or does, Marcus couldn't
help it," she told Bridgette. "When a wolf experiences phasing, he can't help himself. He bites what he wants. Sometimes he doesn't even realize he went through phasing. It's his mark. It's letting everyone know that you are his. You're his property."

"Will you tell him for me that I don't give a shit about some stupid mark on my neck?" Bridgette asked.
  She was surprisingly calm, her body stalk-still, despite her recent outburst at the agency’s onsite clinic. "I don't belong to him. I don't want him. I want to be rid of everything that has to do with him. Will you tell him that for me?"

For whatever reason, Bridgette noticed the wolf’s eyes darken
. "Of course," she told the young red head. "I'd be happy to."

It took a long time for Bridgette to finally fall asleep that night. She had locked her doors, closed her windows, and turned off every light except for the one in the kitchen. In her room, there was a fan blowing softly on the young woman, keeping her cool through the
surprisingly hot night.  Though it was summer, her apartment tended to run cool, and every now and then, she would make good use of her fireplace.  Tonight was hot, sticky, and dreadfully uncomfortable. For a long while, Bridgette stared up at her smooth ceiling, trying to figure out if she felt any different. Nothing seemed out of place when it concerned her physical mentality. It wasn't like she had a sudden appetite for raw meat or needed to dry hump somebody's leg. But there was a fluttering in her stomach that persisted ever since she left Sterling's manor. She wasn't sure why it was pestering her, but it felt like her body was anticipating something her consciousness was currently unaware of. It made her nervous.

Both Clive and Kendall had called
her that evening.  Kendall had assured her that nothing would change between them, and Clive mentioned that the Research Unit of NDS was currently working on some sort of cure for lyncropothy.

"It doesn't work on those naturally conceived as werewolves," he had explained, "but on
humans who were changed."

It gave Bridgette some hope, but something inside of her told her that they
couldn't exactly undo this.

When she entered her apartment that
evening, Bridgette felt lonely. Nobody could really understand what she was going through. How could they? Did they know how it felt to wait around until what every text promised was a searing pain that shot through their body and transformed them into something unhuman?). She shouldn't stay in the city. Even the werewolves that worked at NDS were not permitted to live in the surrounding area. It was the forest for her, whenever she did transform.

Like hell would she go to
Sterling, the man who ruined her life with a nip of her neck.

Her face contorted into a scowl just thinking about him, and she wished she had something she could throw against the wall so it would smash to bits and fall onto the floor.

She loathed, detested, and absolutely
hated
that man. Who the hell did he think he was, biting her, knowing she had no choice in the matter? Even if that woman she had met at his manor said was true, that he couldn't control himself around her, he still should have tried.

If all came to worse, well… s
he would just start her own pack of werewolves. That was permitted, wasn't it?  Or, at least, be a lone wolf.  Kind of like she was now.

And would a mark on her neck really keep men away from her? She didn't think so. It wasn't like the bite would repel the opposite sex.

Would it?

God, she hoped not. She couldn't go her whole entire life without sex.

Her head got heavy, her thoughts started to quiet, and before she knew it, she felt herself drifting off.

She just wasn't counting on a particular dream to litter her mind as she slept.

The first thing she noticed was how comfortable she was, completely naked in his bedroom. She was lying on her side, a cranberry colored satin sheet wrapped around her just so that all her private parts were hidden from his view. She was teasing him. She found that she liked doing such a thing. The corners of her lips twitched up as her eyes sparkled at him, her head resting firmly in the palm of her hand, held up by her elbow.

Marcus Sterling was standing at the left side of the bedroom, completely naked. He was looking at her with dangerous hazel eyes. It was the sort of look that caused an unwanted pulsating in her lower region to pound against her insides and her feminine folds to get increasingly wet. She pressed her lips together in order to hold back a whimper.

He was probably the most beautiful specimen she had ever laid her blue eyes upon. He was tall, as she had already known, but seeing him tower over her even now just further proved the height discrepancy between the two. His eyes burned through hers, and she could read utter desire for her flaming through them. His mouth was in a determined line, as though he was trying to figure out what he should do now. His shoulders, as she had imagined, were incredibly broad, encompassed by the muscle that rang true throughout the majority of his toned body. Even in his human form, he was a beast. And for whatever reason, it caused her to become even wetter than she already was.

Bridgette wanted to be lost in ecstasy with him on top of her, her fragile body underneath his strong one, losing any sense of right, wrong, up, down, here, and
there. She didn't want to think about anything or anyone else; she needed him inside of her at that very moment or else she thought she would go absolutely insane.

She never felt as desperate for something in her life as she did then. It was insatiable; she craved him. She probably looked like an utter fool, but she didn't care. Not when she wanted it so badly.

He started to slowly pad toward the bed, and Bridgette hoped that the eagerness didn't shine too brightly in her eyes. He said nothing, but he maintained a firm eye contact with her. When he finally reached the piece of furniture, he hoisted himself up and placed himself so he was over her body without yet touching it. She looked up at him, her eyes misted by lust she was currently feeling. For a moment, the two simply stared at each other, reading eyes as best as they could.

Afterwards, Marcus reached up and gently brushed fiery tendrils away from her shoulder so he could get a clear view of the graceful curve of her neck. His callused fingertips caressed the mark he left on her, and the edges of his lips turned up, obviously pleased at how it looked on her. He was territorial bastard and he knew it.

Silence still filled the atmosphere when Marcus looked back into Bridgette's eyes before dropping his hand until his fingers became surrounded in silk. He didn't even notice, pushing the blanket away as though it was unnecessary and annoying which, of course, it was.

He had to see her.

When the blankets slid off of her body, Marcus did absolutely nothing but stare at what she had to offer for a long moment. He didn't touch her or speak, but he smelled her arousal for him, and it caused him to harden. Biting back a growl, he reached out and coiled his arm around her waist, bringing the lower half of her body so it connected with his. With a guttural grunt, he thrust inside of her.

Bridgette immediately wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling his body towards her so his sturdy chest came in contact with her silky, erect breasts. Her breathing hitched upon his forcible entrance, and her head tilted back slightly, allowing her conscious to lose itself in the pleasure of him being so deeply inside of her.

She felt fulfilled in every sense of the word. Never had she had such an erotic experience as the one she was experiencing right then.

Marcus
didn't even seem winded as he pulled out and pushed inside of her. She was so incredibly tight, wet, everything he needed to inspire him to continue his ministrations on her capable body. He felt her dig her nails into his flesh, but instead of deterring him, it only egged the werewolf on. He continued to push himself deeper into her, and she matched every one of his thrusts with her hips.

It wasn't until he heard a muffled whimper did he realize that she was nearing her peak. He watched with utter fascination as she bit her bottom lip, focusing his eyes on the whole of her face.

It was at that moment that he realized he would never be satiated with anyone else but the woman beneath him, all but begging him not to stop, to keep going.

And he would. There was no doubt.

When her breathing became shallow and she felt herself release all her tension, Bridgette felt herself tighten around the wolf and her eyes rolled back as a long, low moan left her lips. The sight caused Marcus to climax and a dangerous growl erupted from the bowels of his throat as he spilled himself into her.

Bridgette quickly sat up; her whole body drenched in sweat as she felt the remnants of her dream on her body. It was as though she really had made love to the werewolf. Her body involuntarily twitched and she pressed her lips together in order to prevent any telling whimpers from escaping.

It was only a dream. It was nothing more. It couldn't be.

A howl caused her to jump and glance out her window. The sound appeared to be distant, far away, but it gave Bridgette goose bumps nonetheless.

She hoped she would be able to get back to sleep that night.