The Alpha's Fight: Huntsville Alpha's Mate Series, #4

Chapter One

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There are werewolves running all over the place, she said, breathless with fear. Sitting up in her bed, she clutched at the nurse’s scrubs. The shadows on the white walls of her room leered at her, raising the hair on the back of her neck. You have to get me out of here.

She'd woken up in a hospital of some kind and full of desperation to run. She had to go. Now. But there were monsters everywhere and she couldn't remember where safe was. 

Shh, Jane. It’s okay. said the nurse, her tone soothing as she patiently peeled Jane’s fingers off her blue scrubs.

My name’s not Jane. She crossed her arms over her chest, watching the nurse with a wary eye.

The nurse cocked her head, watching Jane intently. Oh? What is it?

Jane opened her mouth, but nothing came out. I-I-I don’t know. She slumped back in her bed, confused and frustrated.  The name Jane jarred her with a palpable wrongness, but she couldn’t say what the right name was. It was there, she could feel it hiding inside her mind, but she couldn’t reach it. I’m not crazy. She pounded her fist into the mattress and then smacked her forehead with her palm, trying to shake something loose that made sense. I’m not. I know I’m not.

No, you’re not crazy. You’re right, there are shifters. Wolves, lions, bears—we have them all here, but you don’t need to be afraid of them because, the nurse leaned down, her gaze meeting Jane’s, you’re a shifter, too.

Jane screamed and struggled to get out of bed. She had to escape, had to get away from these people before they made her a monster. The nurse pushed her back into the mattress, surprisingly strong despite her slight frame.

Let me go! She aimed a fist at the nurse who ducked and raised her arm to block the blow.

Another nurse stepped into the room. You need some help here, Mary? Or is the patient screaming with happy cooperation?

Mary chuckled as she caught both of Jane’s hands in hers, holding them with an iron grip. Yeah, thanks, Sally. I’ll hold her down if you’ll handle the shot.

Jane glanced from one nurse to the other. What shot? Why do I need a shot?

Mary tightened her grip on Jane without responding. The other nurse, a tall woman with dark, curly hair approached, a syringe gleaming in her hand.

I don’t want a shot. She arched against Mary’s strength hoping to break free. Do you hear me? I don’t want any treatment. I want to leave. Now. The last word ended in a shrieking howl as the needle plunged into her arm. Why are you doing this to me?

Healer’s orders, said Sally, her voice crisp. She slapped a bandage over the injection site. We’re all set here. You got the charting on this, Mary?

Mary nodded. I’m good. I’ll just wait a bit with her.

Wait for what? Jane asked. What else are you going to do to me? A high-pitched note of fear crept into her voice.

Nothing, honey. I just want to make sure you get to sleep okay. Mary smiled at her, looking oddly motherly considering she’d just held Jane down and forced medication on her. Once you’re feeling better, you’ll be able to get up, maybe even visit our cafeteria.

Oh, don’t tell her that, Sally said with a snort. She’ll never get better with you holding the horrors of that slop over her head.

Mary laughed. Fine. If it helps, once she’s better I’ll order some pizza and wings to celebrate. How’s that?

Sally gave a nod of approval and headed for the door. Much better. Hell, some shifters I know would run a marathon for that.

What’s wrong with me? Where am I? Who am I? Jane fought the sudden fog clouding her mind. The world blurred at the edges and her eyes felt like they might start spinning in her head like whirling tops.  Heavy fatigue pressed down on her, shoving her into a dark space where none of her questions were answered.

***

She woke some time later. It had been night before, but now sunlight streamed through the blinds hanging in the window above her bed. She blinked and tracked the dust motes dancing on the sunbeams.

Jane.

She took a deep breath.

My name is Jane.

Biting her lip, she shook her head. Jane still didn’t feel right.

Then what is my name? Why don’t I know that?

Jane, she said, forcing her voice to be firm.

It’s not me. No matter how many times I say it, it doesn’t fit me.

She huffed in frustration and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. Sitting up, she took in her surroundings. A single bed with a coarse gray blanket, a small nightstand and a vinyl chair were the only furniture. The walls were bare and she saw no personal belongings. There was nothing to connect her to who she was. Looking down, she picked at her scrubs. Even her clothes couldn’t help her.

Why don’t I know who I am?

And why do I need medical care?

Where are my clothes? My stuff? Surely I have stuff, right?

How is it that there are shifters everywhere?

She shuddered at that last thought, recalling the nurses telling her it was true. I’m not crazy, but something is definitely wrong. I just don’t know what.

The sound of people talking reached her ears. Curious, she got out of bed only to fall back into the mattress as the world spun and her knees gave out. A wave of weakness left her limp, but she pushed past it, gritting her teeth.

Forcing herself upright and to her feet, she kept her balance with one hand on the wall as she tiptoed to the door of her room. Relieved to find it unlocked, she peeked out and saw a sea of old people. They shuffled, wobbled or leaned on walkers, all headed in a group down one hallway.

A nurse, young with dark hair pulled back in a bun, stood in the hallway and waved them on. Get moving, folks or all the cinnamon rolls will be gone.

Catching sight of a clock on the wall, Jane realized it must be breakfast time. Her stomach growling, she started to step out into the hallway, but then pulled back. Shutting the door, she went into the bathroom attached to her room instead.

Am I old, too?

What if she was one of those people with dementia who fought everyone? She flicked on the light and looked at herself for the first time she could remember. The mirror showed her a woman who looked to be in her late twenties. Early thirties at the most. Her hair reached her shoulders in soft waves, the color of sable with chocolate undertones.  Her eyes were...hazel? She leaned in for a closer look, finding her pupils a mix of green and gold. She had freckles, too, which dusted her nose and cheeks.

Stepping back, she took in her figure. Not thin, not fat, but solid. She flexed an arm and marveled at her bicep. Do I lift weights?

There was a knock on the door, and whoever it was didn’t wait for her to let them in. She watched as a short man with a thick head of hair going every-which-way entered her room, passing right by the bathroom. He frowned when he saw her bed was empty, but then noticed her when he turned to look behind him.

Ah, there you are! Good morning, Jane. I’m Healer Schmidt from Claw Moon Pride. I thought you might want to talk. He motioned for her to join him in the main part of her room.

Healer? Shouldn't you be a doctor? Jane perched on the edge of her bed, her senses causing panic to flash through her. She could smell the animal in him, a tangy musk. He was one of them.

Actually, I am a real doctor. I went to school and everything, but I only did that to make me legit to humans. It's easier to get meds with a medical license. Crossing his legs, he smiled at her. No doubt, you must be confused. The nurses told me you were very upset last night, which isn’t unusual, I’m sorry to say, for someone in your situation.

What situation is that? She gave him a wary look.

He tapped his temple. Head trauma. You’ve sustained a brain injury.

She blinked, surprised at the answer. Is that why I can’t remember anything?

I’m afraid so.

She put a hand to her head. Will my memory come back? Any of it?

He nodded. With time, yes. Most of your memory should return, but you may be missing pieces of it for the rest of your life.

Do you know who I am?

I'm afraid not. The sheriff who brought you here doesn’t know who you are either.

She stiffened. Sheriff? Am I in trouble?

I don’t know. I expect the sheriff will stop by to talk to you about that later.

And you’re a shifter too?

Yes, a lion. His eyes flashed gold as he spoke.

And I’m a shifter? She sniffed, thinking she might catch her own scent, but nothing registered.

Yes, my guess is wolf.

I’m a werewolf, she said with wonder and a touch of embarrassment over her behavior the night before. It didn't seem nearly as scary now. In fact, it sounded right to her, as if it fit. She closed her eyes and tried to feel the animal that supposedly lived somewhere inside her, but like her name, it was nowhere to be found.

Yes, but don’t expect to shift any time soon. Someone who's sustained your level of injury tends to be human bound while they heal.

So what do I do? I don’t know who I am. You don’t know who I am, and I might be in trouble. She clenched her hands into fists as she spoke.

For now, just focus on recovering. You’re lucky to be alive. You cut an artery in your leg and you had a pretty big goose egg on your head. Even shifters can die if they lose a lot of blood too fast. He stood and stretched, his back cracking as he did so. Sorry. I was up all night.

Because of me? Jane looked at her leg, trying to recall the injury, but, other than a faint tenderness that she had to really concentrate on to feel, there was no sign she'd ever been close to dying.

Well, you and a couple other people. Healing is never a nine-to-five job. Covering a yawn, he said, Anyway, take it easy. Sleep if you’re tired. Eat and build up your strength. Try not to worry about anything else right now. Your memory will return faster if you stay relaxed. I'll check on you in a day or two. If you need me before then, let one of the staff know.

Okay. That sounds simple enough, I guess. She stood as well and followed him as he headed for the door. Do you know where I can find breakfast? I’m hungry.

Sure. I’ll show you to the cafeteria. It’s on my way out. He motioned for her to come with him. It’s down this way. Nothing fancy, I’m afraid, but it will fill you up and give you the calories you need to heal.

Jane took in her surroundings as they walked. The long hallways had blue carpeting and beige walls with doors at regular intervals. Most were closed, but when she peeked inside the open ones, she saw rooms set up similar to hers, only with lots of personal belongings. What is this place?

Oh, right. Sorry. I forgot you probably don’t know. Welcome to Crescent Pines, the retirement community for shifters.

She stopped short. I’m in a nursing home? What? Why? I'm not old enough to be here.

It's a retirement community. He leaned in close and lowered his voice. Don't call it a nursing home unless you want a fight. It was either this place or the jail. The sheriff thought you would be more comfortable here.

There are no hospitals. She frowned, trying to understand why she knew that.

He smiled at her. See? Your memory is already making progress. You're right. We don't use hospitals like humans. Normally you would go home and your pack healer would make a house call, but—

No one knew who I was or where I lived.

Right, and because you were so upset about shifters and so out-of-control, the sheriff felt this was the best place for you. We can’t have you running around in the human world talking crazy, or worse, shifting where they can see you. He put his hand on her elbow and nudged her forward. Now, come. The cafeteria is right around the corner and you’ve got five minutes before breakfast is over.

The whole way to the cafeteria, all Jane could think was 'I'm a werewolf in a nursing home.' Bizarre didn't even begin to cover it. She sure hoped her memory came back with a full explanation of what the hell was going on.

Chapter Two

Jane piled her tray high with toast, eggs, oatmeal, cereal, an apple, a banana, two yogurts and a large coffee. She didn't know if she liked cream or sugar, so she threw both onto her tray. Her stomach was almost screaming with hunger, making sounds that she’d never heard before.

Or if I have, I don’t remember, she thought as she surveyed the tables, looking for a place to sit. The old folks were staring at her and muttering amongst themselves. Jane pasted a smile on her face and pretended it wasn’t awkward to be the youngest person in the room by at least eighty years. Even the cafeteria staff were well past middle age.

But she was dressed like a nurse. How would they know she wasn’t one of the staff anyway? Except from their pointed looks, she had the feeling they knew exactly why she was there.

As she navigated the round tables that filled the cafeteria, she caught snippets of whispers and murmurs.

Such a shame.

Poor thing.

So awkward.

She doesn’t belong here.

Jane felt a rumble in her chest and startled as she realized it was a growl.

Someone made a tsk-tsk sound.

What kind of manners is that? someone asked.

Meeting people’s gazes, one by one, Jane turned a slow circle. The room fell silent and everyone stopped eating. Clearing her throat she said, Hi. I’m Jane and maybe you folks have lost your hearing, but I haven’t. Thanks for the warm welcome. With that, she stomped in the direction of the only empty table in the room.

You can sit with me, said a warm voice to her right.

Jane glanced over to see an elderly woman with snow white hair and bright brown eyes peering at her through thick glasses. She gave Jane a friendly smile. We’re not all assholes.

Several people gasped and a few tittered.

What language, scolded an elderly man.

I fed my kids soap and Tabasco if they talked like that, sniffed a prim woman with a ramrod straight spine and a neat, silver bun.

The woman who had offered her a seat rolled her eyes. Don’t let them fool you, she said with a soft guffaw. Their tails aren't any cleaner than mine. I’ve heard many say worse and for less important reasons. She stared down the people around her until they looked away.

Jane slid into a seat, wishing she could sink into the floor. All the attention made her anxious. She wasn't prepared to handle such a tough crowd. Thanks for the seat, she murmured.

The woman held out her hand. I’m Tillie.

Jane, she said, shaking Tillie’s hand.

I’ve been in here for almost a decade. She nodded to the people around her. I might be old, but I was never small-minded, and being in here with all these mental midgets tires a body out.

To be fair, they're right. I don’t really belong here, Jane said. I’m not old enough for a nursing home.

But you needed a safe place to stay, and without a pack to claim you, Crescent Pines is it. Tillie took a sip of her water. The sheriff did you a favor, believe it or not. The only other place would be the jail in Huntsville, and the food there is even worse.

How do you know what the food in jail tastes like? Jane gave Tillie a curious look, startled to realize that, no matter how grandmotherly the woman appeared, she didn't really know her at all.

Tillie laughed. I'm whiter than an angel's wings, but there's always someone who just has to get in trouble. You live long enough, and you'll see a spot or two of trouble no matter how good you are.

Frowning, Jane pushed her food around her plate. She’d been so hungry just minutes before, but now her stomach was making dire threats about how it would respond if she ate even one bite. It seemed to her a 'spot of trouble' had found her, she just didn't know what kind. The uncertainty left her queasy.

With a sigh, she decided to see exactly how much Tillie knew. If she couldn't eat, she could at least work on her memory. Did you see the sheriff when he brought me in? she asked. Did he say anything?

We all saw him, dear. The entrance to this place is right over there. Tillie pointed to the cafeteria's entrance and when Jane looked, she saw the doors leading to the rest of the world. They stood opposite from the cafeteria, but she'd missed them on her way in, which she blamed on hunger. The scent of food had filled her nose to the point where she couldn't even think and her stomach had yowled like an angry cat.

She stared at the doors and the bright sunlight just beyond them, a different kind of hunger filling her.

I could leave.

But where would I go?

Wednesday is wine night and we were all in here getting a little tipsy when the sheriff came in dragging you after him. Tillie met Jane’s eyes, her gaze steady. You were making all sorts of noise and fighting him like you thought he was going to kill you.

Heat crept up Jane’s cheeks and she slouched down lower in her seat.

Tillie patted her arm. Don’t feel bad. From what I've heard, you’d been through a lot that night. I would've done the same in your situation.

How do you know what happened to me?

I work at the nurse’s station and help them with their files. We don’t do electronic records like humans because we don’t want to be hacked. I saw a bit of your paperwork.

Jane leaned in close to Tillie, catching a nose full of the older woman's perfume, which she recognized as a gardenia based scent. It made her want to sneeze. What did it say?

You don’t know?

Jane shook her head. I don’t know anything. I-I can’t remember who I am. Tears sprang to her eyes and she sniffed them back.

Oh, you poor dear. Tillie patted Jane’s hand again, her palm warm and soft. You had a pretty bad head injury and a wound on your thigh. You’re lucky to be alive.

That’s what the healer told me today. Was there anything else? Any other details?  Jane couldn’t keep a pleading note out of her voice.

I’m sorry, but if there was more, I didn’t see it. Tillie looked at her with pity in her eyes.

Jane dipped her head down, staring at the weave of the table cloth and rubbing her forehead with one hand.  She didn’t want pity, she wanted her memory back.

You know, there was a man in my pack once who got clobbered by a tree. They were logging out in the forest, wanting to build a log cabin and boom, the tree clocked him right here. Tillie made a fist and tapped it against her head. He clean forgot everything. His wolf left him for months, but he did return and so did his memories. We shifters are a tough lot. We can heal from almost anything. Just give it some time.

Jane nodded, somewhat reassured by Tillie’s words. If one person had recovered, there had to be hope for her, too. Thanks.

Until then, enjoy all that Crescent Pines has to offer. Tillie gestured to Jane’s plate. With as much blood as you’ve lost, you can speed up your healing by eating and drinking, so eat up, child. You need that food, even if it is industrial mass produced crap.

Jane took a tentative bite of oatmeal. Her stomach stopped roiling the second the food hit