Kiss Of The Alpha : A YA Paranormal Romance

Chapter 72: Chapter 72

Heather

I opened Serena’s door when I was done. Her room was a riot of color. She had endless make-up and beauty supplies in the bookcase next to her bed, and a desk piled with magazines. She was still completely covered by her comforter.

I poked where I thought her back might be. "Your turn." She grunted, and I went back through the bathroom to my room.

The layout was a mirror image of Serena’s, but where Serena had color, I had white. Mostly because I had to make sure that everything I touched was brand new and extra clean. Bleach helped burn the visions out of anything.

It wasn’t necessary anymore, but it’d become a habit.

Three long metal shelves were drilled into the wall beside my bed. They held actual books, in alphabetical order by author and sorted by genre. The framed print hanging above my bed was knocked askew.

Underneath a big grinning Cheshire Cat, in big purple and pink block letters, it read, "Keep calm. We’re all mad here." It’d been a gift from my brother. He was enjoying college life, but I missed the dork.

I quickly dressed in skinny jeans and a T-shirt, and checked my watch. I was actually making good time this morning. I might even have time to review my notes on Dr. Mozan’s chemistry class before breakfast.

I paused as I brushed my hair. Why wasn’t Serena in the shower yet? She was always up by now. "Hey? Are you getting up?"

She didn’t answer.

I went through the bathroom and into her room. She was still huddled under her covers. "Come on, chica. It’s time to get up. You’re gonna miss breakfast." She didn’t respond at all. "Hey, you okay?" I pulled the blankets away from her face.

Serena blinked her bloodshot eyes at me. A piece of her hot pink hair was stuck to her forehead. "I don’t know. My limbs ache."

Aching limbs sounded like the flu. "You seem sick, but that’s—"

"Impossible," Serena said. "Werewolves can’t get sick."

That might be true, but she looked pretty pale to me. I pressed the back of my hand to her forehead. "You’re ice cold." Which was odd. All over Texas it was hitting over ninety degrees, and werewolves ran hotter than humans.

"I’m not sick." She sat up. "I’m just feeling extra slow today. It’s a side effect of the curse. I’ll be fine once I’m up and about."

I raised my eyebrows, but said nothing. She’d know better than me what was wrong with her. "Well, I’m going to finish getting ready. You gonna get up?"

"Yeah. Today’s French toast day. I’m not missing that for anything. Just give me ten, I’ll be ready."

"Cool." I went back to my room and shoved my homework in my Tokidoki messenger bag. Serena closed my door to the bathroom and turned on the shower.

I opened my laptop to go over my notes, but a message from my brother, West, was in my inbox. The subject line read, "Whasrt’ds uopl?"

Was that English?

I snorted as I opened it. It took a bit of deciphering, but I got the gist—he went to a party last night. The send time said three AM. Poor guy would be hurting when he woke up. I turned on the latest from BBC Radio One’s Essential Mix—a totally sweet set from Sasha and Pete Tong at a club in Manchester—and started replying to West’s email.

I was about to hit send when the smell hit me. I paused the music.

"Serena?" I asked through the door.

She gagged, and my blood went cold. Serena hadn’t been lying when she said that werewolves didn’t get sick. They could heal broken bones in a few hours.

So, why was Serena puking in our bathroom?

My chest tightened. Something was seriously wrong with my best friend.

I knocked on the bathroom door. "You okay in there?"

More noises followed that I wished I hadn’t heard. Especially not with my new super sensitive hearing. Yuck.

I took a deep breath and fully cursed my werewolf senses. I could smell her half-digested food—the fried pork chops weren’t so appealing on the way out. There was something metallic in the air, too. Willing myself not to barf, I cracked open the door.

Serena’s hair blocked her face from my view as she hovered over the toilet. I glanced around the bathroom, trying to figure out what I could do to help as she heaved. The mirrored medicine cabinet didn’t have anything even remotely medicine-like in it. Werewolves didn’t need it.

What was I even looking for?

Right. Hair band. I searched one of my carefully organized drawers beneath the sink, not caring that I was messing it up, and grabbed a black elastic. I quickly tied her hair back.

A chill ripped through me. "Umm...Serena? Is there blood in your puke?"

"What the hell is happening to me?" Her voice was soft, and shook with fear. "I’ve never been sick like this before. I’ve never thrown up in my life. During the day of the full moon I get weak, but not this..."

"I don’t know what’s going on." I pressed the back of my hand to her forehead. It was still clammy. "I’m gonna get help."

Before I got to my cell, it was ringing. Brent’s photo lit up my screen.

"Hey," he said as soon as I answered. I could hear the leaves crunching under his feet as he ran. "What’s wrong? Why are you panicking?" He’d no doubt felt my freak out through our bond. My fear for Serena definitely qualified as a strong emotion.

"Serena’s puking blood."

"Merde. Watch her. If she starts seizing, call me back. I’m grabbing Dr. Gonzales on my way."

"What do you mean if she starts seizing? What the hell’s going on?"

The line was silent. He’d hung up?

Shit. He’d totally hung up on me.

Seizing? I ran through the little bit of first aid training I was forced to do in health class back in Los Angeles. Move them away from anything that could hurt them. Cushion their head. Loosen constrictive clothing around their neck.

Serena was curled up on her side, hopefully done with puking. She was far enough away from the tub that she probably wouldn’t hit her head.

Her clothing—a hot pink tank top that matched the dyed sections in her hair and a pair of black sleep shorts—wasn’t constrictive at all. I grabbed a towel from our rack and folded it to put under her head.

"I feel horrible," Serena said. I ran a washcloth under hot water and handed it to her. She wiped her face before quickly sitting up, barely making it back to the toilet as she dry heaved.

"Take slow, deep breaths. It might help." I sat on the edge of the tub next to her, rubbing my hand up and down her back.

She closed her eyes, following my advice. "Have you ever puked before?"

"Uh, yeah. I used to be human."

She started puking again. If possible, Serena turned even paler. I tried not to look—I didn’t want to—but it was like a train wreck. I couldn’t turn away as a little bit of blood dribbled from her mouth.

"How do you get used to it?" She said when she got back under control.

I snorted. Serena had grown up a Were and had never been sick before. I was the only wolf in a very long while to be turned from a human. "No one gets used to it.

Throwing up sucks." It especially sucks when you’re puking blood. I wasn’t a doctor, but I knew that something was majorly wrong with her.

"Yeah. No shit."

I smiled, but it felt strained.

Where the hell was Brent? I rubbed my sweating palms on my T-shirt.