My Lycan Mate of Suicide Forest

Once Graeme and August had left the room, the girl who wished to no longer be called Zoe lowered the ice pack from her face and turned to Lucas.

"You don't need to stay here with me. I'll be fine," she told him. "Thank you for the water."

She couldn't understand why he would stay—unless he was guarding her, worried this was an act and would carry out some nefarious plan in his absence. Maybe she would. With the knowledge of what she had done all these years, she couldn't say she trusted herself either.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked. Maybe he made her uncomfortable and she would be better off recovering alone.

She didn't answer, seemingly suspended in the question he had posed. She didn't know what she wanted, and for once he made it seem like she actually had a choice.

"I don't know… I just. Maybe I'll rest."

"What was your name before you were named Zoe?" he asked. "Or what would you prefer we call you?"

She sighed. "I don't know what to be called. Maybe I should think of a new name."

"Well today is the perfect day for that," he replied, walking toward the bed and sitting in the chair August had occupied.

"Why is that?"

"With the fire tonight, we burn away the old and make way for the new. You can do that, too. You can come up with a new name for a new… you."

She nodded and slid back under the covers against the pillow. She didn't particularly want to be seen by anyone tonight. The role she played in this pack was not a good one, and now she had a mangled face to match the monstrous way she would be perceived by everyone.

Even if she were back to being alyko rather than the vampire mutate or whatever it was the ancient Zagan had made her, it wasn't like this pack was welcoming of alyko either. Even as the very obvious true Luna of the pack, August was facing that same prejudice.

"Maybe they'll just throw me in the fire. No point in a new name," she mumbled. If that happened, at least now she would have an opportunity to die. That in itself was a relief.

"It sounds to me like you were not really to blame," Lucas frowned at where her thoughts were leading her.

"I'm sure that's not how everyone will see it, Lucas," a sad smile pulled at her lips. "And they wouldn't be wrong… it was me, even if it was a… different me."

"All that knowledge and scientific curiosity… is it still there?" he asked, genuinely curious. He couldn't sense that insatiable flame of inquisitiveness in her any longer.

She shook her head. Attempting to think about the theories that had riddled her mind before made her nauseous now. It was like she had been given a high-powered light that could slice through any fog or confusion when it came to difficult mathematic formulas and dense scientific literature, but that light was dimmed back to its original strength now and she preferred to just turn it off all together.

Lucas hummed in response. She seemed deflated and exhausted.

"Maybe you should eat something and then rest more," he suggested.

She grimaced. Eating did not sound good. Her face was painful and pulling at the knots of nerves in her stomach.

"I'll find you something," he stood to leave. "Any requests?"

She shook her head again, remaining silent. There was nothing that sounded good, but she didn't want to keep him from leaving. He was probably hungry. Lycan males ate a lot to maintain their energy and strength.

"Should I think of a name for you?" he stopped at the door and gave her a teasing smile.

Her eyes broadened in surprise at the question. Even the swollen eye lifted a little. But she still remained quiet. He was probably joking or would come up with something cruel.

"I'll give it some thought," he answered for himself before disappearing out the door.

Once he left, she eased herself out of the bed and went to the attached bathroom, pulling the rolling cart of fluids along behind her.

"This is ridiculous," she mumbled to herself as she tried to maneuver herself and the fluids into the bathroom so she could close the door.

After realizing she just wasn't going to fit in the bathroom with the awkwardly rolling metal stand, she decided to just disconnect herself. She had been a brilliant scientist, for Goddess sakes—she could definitely disconnect herself from these fluids in order to go to the bathroom.

The tape holding the IV catheter in her wrist was itching like crazy anyway. She pulled it off, relishing in the sensation that was somewhere between painful and ticklish. All of these feelings were new again to her, awakening that reminder of who she was prior to Zosime. A person who could feel so much more than the container she had been trapped in.

When she pulled the foreign object out of her arm, she was transfixed by how soft the skin was, allowing the catheter to slide out so easily, and then by the blood that quickly followed. The small entry into her skin wasn't healing like it would have in the past. Blood was actually flowing out. She smiled and put two fingers over the wound, watching how the pressure hindered the bleeding. Then she let it go again, watching it resume. A bright smile bloomed on her face, and even with the pulling of the stitches, she let it.

Lucas came back into the room and was immediately overwhelmed by the scent of blood. He followed it into the bathroom where the girl was standing next to the sink, watching blood trickle out of her arm and run down the white porcelain into the drain.

"What are you doing?" he quickly set the food down on a table in the room before returning to the bathroom where he retrieved a pile of gauze pads from the vanity that he then held over her wrist.

While he was holding the gauze there, he glanced at her. Was she going to try to hurt herself now that she knew she could die? Or why had she just been standing there looking at her own bloody wound with such a satisfied look on her face?

"I'm mortal," she whispered to herself, unfazed by his presence.

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