Ours To Protect

POV - Hazel

“DEREK! WAIT!” I scream at the top of my lungs, the voice so high pitched that it doesn’t even sound like my own; while he runs at top speed down the stairs of what appears to be a subway station somewhere. His hand is wrapped tightly around my wrist, and he is practically dragging me with him, my feet struggling to keep up with his speed.

The screechy sound of an incoming train meets us at the bottom of the stairs, and Derek speeds up even faster in the direction of the platform, swiftly avoiding the to-be-passengers who are hurrying in the same direction.

I hear screams behind me, and I look back to see what is happening, hoping that I won’t trip on something at this dangerous speed. There are people wearing black clothes, running down the stairs, guns in hand, ready to shoot, and their target appears to be US!

“DEREK! They are here!” I shout again. But this time it feels strange, that’s not what I was going to say at all, I was thinking something on the lines of “what the fuck is going on?”.

It feels like I am here, but I am not really me, it’s a strange sensation.

Derek shoving me through the opened doors of the subway train takes me back to reality, and I hurriedly grab the nearest pole before I land with my ass on the subway floor.

As soon as I get my balance back, I hear the ringing of the train, signaling that the doors are going to close, but to my horror, instead of getting on the train with me, Derek gives me a sweet smile, full of love and regret, and then turns around taking his own gun out.

Before I can call him again, the doors close shut, and he sprints toward our suitors, firing a few shots at them. I see one of the pursuers fall down, hit by one of Derek’s gunshots, but the other two remain unscathed and somehow, I didn’t see clearly how Derek was thrown to the ground.

NO, NO, NO, Derek, get up! Why isn’t he shifting?

“DEREK!” I yell again, in that same high-pitched voice, not caring about the stares that I get from the other passengers.

The train starts moving slowly, metal wheels scraping on metal tracks, and in utter horror I witness those two pinning Derek down, one of them pointing a gun at Derek’s head. I see him struggling, but before he can get free, the woman fires the gun, without any hesitation. The gunshot echoes in the underground station like it’s thirty gunshots and not just one small bullet killing the love of my life in less than a second.

Derek now lies limp on the floor, blood gushing from the wound on his head, painting his white shirt crimson, while the train starts picking up speed, and his figure sprawled on the floor gets smaller and smaller. I see his killers run towards the train, firing at random, in the hope of shooting me, or maybe just to get the train to stop; but it’s too late, the train speeds up and enters the dark tunnel that will take us to the next station.

I wish they managed to shoot me, because the awareness of what just happened is starting to sink in, and I don’t think I will be able to handle this agony.

“Derek.”

…

I wake up in my plushy bed with my face and hair wet for crying. I feel confused and disoriented, and still very upset. What was that? Was it a dream? Please, Goddess, tell me that’s not a premonition, or some kind of mission you bestowed on me, I beg you.

I turn on my side, searching for my mate’s comfort, but to my dismay his spot is empty and cold, which means he left a while ago.

My mind immediately goes back to that dream, Derek lying in a pool of his blood, and fear like none other grips me. But it is short lived, as the bedroom door flies open and Derek barges in, ready to take on any threat.

When he sees that there is no one here apart from me, he hurries to the bed and starts checking me for injuries. Satisfied that my body is unharmed, he shifts his attention to my face and asks anxiously, “Are you alright? What happened? I felt your fear.”

Overjoyed to see that he’s fine, I jump up and hug him tightly, not saying anything, just basking in his delicious and comforting scent.

“Now I am starting to get worried for real. What’s wrong kitten?” he asks into my hair, caressing my back softly.

I ponder for a moment whether to tell him or not, it might just be a dream, I don’t want to scare him for nothing; but if it is not a dream, then I need to tell him, this way he can be alert.

“I had a dream…” I start uncertainly, and he immediately pulls back to stare into my eyes.

“A dream or a vision?”

“Well, about that, I am not sure. Everything was so chaotic, and it felt real, but I don’t know, I had a different feeling from my previous visions. This time, I wasn’t just a shadow witnessing things, this time I was me, and you were there too, and when they shot you, the pain was so strong it was choking me.”

A sob escapes me, and Derek immediately sits me on his lap and hugs me tightly.

“It’s ok, kitten, I am here, and I am fine. Just tell me what you’ve seen.”

And just like that, I told him everything I had witnessed, I struggled a little with the part where he died, but I kept reminding myself that it didn’t actually happen.

While recounting the facts, little details came to my mind, stuff that didn’t make any sense.

“I don’t know, I feel like there are too many incongruences to be a vision. For starters, why haven’t we used our powers to defend ourselves? Why haven’t we shifted? We could have definitely outrun them, if they were indeed humans. And a normal gunshot, even to the head, can’t kill a werewolf,” Derek explains patiently, trying not to make my concern sound silly, but still laying it all out there.

“I know, there’s too much that doesn’t add up. And that subway station looked so strange, not as modern as the ones in our city. And you, somehow, looked older, and my voice was too high-pitched, it didn’t even sound like my own.”

“So, maybe, it was just a dream,” Derek says hopefully.

“Yeah, probably it was,” I reply a little resignedly. It’s not that I want this to be a vision, but I just feel like there’s more to it, call it a sixth sense or something, I just can’t shake that feeling away.

“But, I will be careful, I promise; I won’t take the subway for a while.”

“You never take the subway, you have more than one driver, and even one helicopter. I even doubt you took the subway even once in your life. You were born with a silver spoon,” I mock him.

“Hey, here I am soothing you because you had a bad dream, and you go all meany kitten on me. That’s not fair. And, by the way, we both know that dream has very little to do with your powers and much to do with the Mission impossible’s marathon you had going on yesterday evening. It took me ages to get to sleep with all the noise from the movie. And werewolves are much cooler than that secret agent impostor.”

He's cute when he gets all worked up, I can’t help teasing him a little more.

“True, but the tailored black suit and the motorcycle, they are kind of sexy, don’t you think?” I ask innocently.

“I wear suits every day, and I can ride a motorbike too!” he protests indignantly.

“Can you? And what else can werewolves do?” I ask enticingly, moving into a straddling position, and caressing his firm chest with my fingers.

His expression becomes somber, and his strong hands grip my wrists.

“Were you leading me on on purpose, weren’t you?”

“I was,” I confess, with a small laugh.

“Then I’ll show you what else werewolves can do!”

In a heartbeat he has me flipped on my back on the bed, his big frame hovering over mine; his glowing blue eyes want to devour me, and I immediately feel that thrill of fear and excitement that always preludes our intimate encounters.

“Show me what you can do, Wolfie,” I tease again, and again he doesn’t disappoint me.