Swapped Luna part 19

Previously…

"Induce me into a coma, please," I beg the doctor, wanting to escape again.

I don't want to see Thorne. I don't want him to beg for my forgiveness. I don't want him to remind me of my days of torture.

And for fuck's sake, I don't want to feel the confusing, electric current between us that insists we're mates.

PRESENTLY…

VICTORIA’S POV

My fists are clenched and my gaze is lowered to the sheets covering my legs. Doctors mutter with each other and write on their clipboards, refusing to examine me until Thorne gets here. As if he’s the one that’s entitled to break the seal by touching his Luna who’s fragile like porcelain.

I study my surroundings. There are flowers on the nightstand. Fresh without a single petal out of place. The room is clean, but not sterile like the asylum they had kept me in.

My arms look healthy. I wish I had a mirror to see what has become of me. But I know that no matter how much color has returned to my skin or how much length and shine has come to my hair, my eyes are hollow. Because that is how I feel.

I am numb after all my torture and facing death twice and having it denied to me time after time. My soul feels heavy. Aged. It shouldn’t be this way. I shouldn’t have faced so many trials, because I have nothing to do with this werewolf world and its gods.

I will never know why the Moon chose me for this experiment. When I was dying in the hospital, Millie, my nurse, told me she would pray for me. She brought me a few of the werewolf tales that I loved to read, and she would laugh when I was snarky, telling me that I reminded her of someone she used to know.

All along, she was a werewolf hiding among humans. All along, I was reminding her of her Alpha mate who she ran away from, who was as snarky as me. That’s why she befriended me. That’s why she prayed for my recovery to her moon goddess.

Thorne enters the room. An Alpha that makes me want to run away just like Millie’s Alpha did.

The crowd of doctors and servants split like an ocean to let him through. I don’t look up to acknowledge him, choosing to ignore him insolently.

I am uninterested in hearing him. Giving him a taste of his own medicine.

“You’re back,” he says, lowering himself to his knees beside the bed. Forcing me to look at those bright fucking eyes of his. That square, stubbled jaw. Straight nose. Toussled hair.

“Victoria,” he calls for me. Daring to set a hand beside mine on the bed, but not quite touching me. “I am so, so sorry.”

“Where is she?” I ask.

“Maeve died,” he replies, unblinkingly staring at my eyes like he’s learning them all over again. Like he has never seen the depth of their brown color.

“Then I am sorry, Thorne. Because you lost your only chance of happiness. You will not find it with me.”

“You’re thirsty,” he says, ignoring my words and studying my dry lips.

He turns to the doctors. “What are you doing?” he asks, his gentle voice becoming a snarl. “Get her some fucking water!”

They scramble. Someone leaves the room and returns within seconds with a water bottle.

“Didn’t you hear me?” I ask him, ignoring the bottle that’s set beside my hand. “Your mate is dead. Why aren’t you by her grave, mourning her? Why are you still here? Why am I here? I want to go home.”

He tips his head to the side. Looking confused. Looking delusional. I hope he kept the psychologist’s number because he’s the one in need of therapy.

“She wasn’t my mate. You are.”

His hand brushes over mine, sparking warmth and electricity across our skin. Proving him right.

I hiss and rip my hand away.

Why is the bond still there? It should have been shattered long ago.

Thorne’s eyes look sad. So incredibly sad. “I will step back to let the doctors check your vitals and pupils, but I will return. I will return a million times, Victoria.” He shakes his head. “I’m so fucking sorry. You were my blessing from the moon, and I hurt you time and time again.”

I scan the doctors, studying all their faces. “No psychologist today? What, have I graduated from my crazy diagnosis?”

He hangs his head shamefully. “I will never lock you away again,” he promises.

“So I’m free to go back to Europe?”

“Back to poverty, famine, sickness, and starvation?” He lifts his head and narrows his eyes. “I would first bury myself in the same ditch that I buried Lorcan and Maeve before I met you return to poverty.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Thorne. I was happier when I was dying in that hospital bed than what I am now. At least I had…”

Millie. Oh, god, what has become of her? What will become of me?

“Please, Victoria. I will never screw up again.”

“You expect me to trust you? Fang identified me before you could. He saw through Maeve when you couldn’t.”

“I know!” he says, dragging a hand through his hair like he does when he’s stressed. And I hate that I picked up this quirk of his, because as I was falling for him, I admired every little gesture he made. Engraved them into my memory.

“I’m a fucking idiot. I don’t deserve you or to lead this pack. I’ve made mistakes graver than my forefathers. An embarrassment to my lineage. But for fuck’s sake, I will live the rest of my days making up for it.”

“I want to see Fang. I want them to shift to their human form so I can thank them.”

He hesitates. “Fang…is not a werewolf. He is a natural wolf.”

A…what?!

My headache pulses as more overwhelming information floods me.

“So…an animal recognized me before you could? A…canine?! That really doesn’t help your case, Thorne.”

He rises slowly, revealing a tight black-tshirt and washed jeans that make me want to jump off the fucking balcony in angst and frustration.

He looks good. No amount of pain will change that. And I fucking hate that it’s not the bond that’s forcing these feelings of admiration in me. It’s me. Freely and autonomously me.

I still remember the fun we had by the lake, the kiss and the tension that made me feel more alive than ever before. That made me forget about the cancer.

And I want to throw all those memories in the garbage because Thorne dragged me through hell and back.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers for the umpteenth time. Glancing at my hand like he wants to touch it.

He looks over his shoulder at the team of doctors that watched the Alpha fall to his knees for someone else–for me–probably for the first time in his life.

“Get to it,” he orders. “I will need the reports by the end of day.”

The doctors inch closer. And soon, I have light flashed in my eyes, machines disconnected, and blood drawn. Nothing that makes me flinch, as I know this life like the back of my hand from my time at the hospital.

They make quick work of collecting what they need and leaving with their heads bowed.

Now, it’s just Throne and me. I’m exhausted, but the glint in Thorne’s eye tells me this is just the beginning. He looks hellbent on me. On never giving up.

“How long was I unconscious?” I ask, trying to stitch together the timeline.

“Four months, Victoria. I haven’t slept a full night since I found you bleeding…” he trails off.

“What happened since?”

“Maeve was buried. The council visited and came to an…agreement with me. A cousin of mine has been established as the beta.”

“And Millie? Did they ever find her?”

“I wanted to talk to you about that after you rested. She’s still missing and her mate is still searching.”

My eyes jump from the flowers to him, slicing through the air. “This is the last time I will speak of her, and I hope it’s the same for you. I will not compromise her. I know nothing.”

“Fine,” he says, expanding his arms. “I don’t care enough to argue over this. I owe nothing to Alpha Leander. My focus is you.”

He heads for the exit. “You will be mine, my mate, and the hunt starts today. Rest. I will retrieve you for dinner tonight.”

“I’m not your—“

He shuts the door behind him before I can even finish my thought.

A/N: how do we feel about Thorne’s determination? Delulu or no?