Edited version of "The Protector."
Excerpt:
"You are my mate," he said to her coldly.
Tracy looked at him intensely. "What does that mean in werewolf?" She asked curiously.
"It means that you are my soulmate.'"
"You don't sound...
The soothing rhythm of a grandfather clock comforted Tracy as she looked around the unfamiliar space. It was a large room painted in a pastel pink color with white crown molding and trim. Disoriented, she scanned the grounds through a partly open window, noticing the darkly ominous gray sky.
Grandpa! she thought, struggling to clear her mind.
Tracy remembered him holding the gun. That was so strange to her, knowing his aversion towards firearms. She knew he owned two for protection. She also clearly remembered the disagreements between her dad and grandpa about his job as a 'gun toting' police officer.
Her grandfather had been drafted during the Vietnam war. He signed up as a medic. Tracy once asked him if he ever had to shoot anyone in combat. She remembered him saying that the few times he had to pick up a gun he prayed he would never have to use it. But If it came to that, he hoped the damage he inflicted on another human being would be minimal.
"People can romanticize warfare," he would say, "Their 'so called' enemies being less than human. They have wives too. Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, children, and friends for that matter. No one should ever get so caught up in the idea of killing an enemy that you forget your own humanity."
Now, close to a panic, Tracy wondered why she was there.
"What's happening here?" she thought, slowly sitting up in her bed. Eventually swinging her legs over the side, she used the heel of her hand to rub away the ache behind her eyes. Trying to stand, she collapsed.
Feeling the room spin, Tracy lay down and covered her eyes with her arm. Trying to focus her mind, while waiting for the vertigo to go away, nausea threatened to make her puke. Concentrating on taking deep breaths, the feeling eventually subsided. Relieved, but unwilling to try and stand again, she stayed in bed.
The pulls and strains of all the fighting had made her entire body ache. All her muscles felt sore. Other than these obvious discomforts, as well as the strange burning sensation around her right shoulder, there were no cuts or deep wounds.
Almost asleep, her needing to pee kept her from going under. Cautiously sitting up again, Tracy looked around for a bathroom. There was a door directly across from her bed. Guessing that it would lead into a hall way, she noticed two other doors on opposite sides of the room to the left.
Gingerly standing to her feet, she managed to slowly walk over to the closest one, relieved to see a grey, slate tiled floor and corner cabinet. Feeling for the light switch, she flicked it on. After using the facilities and washing her hands, Tracy looked in the mirror and noticed that someone had changed her clothes. Instead of the simple t-shirt, jeans, and bomber jacket she had dressed herself in earlier, she now wore a very 'girly girl' baby blue dress. Use to dressing modestly, she was surprised to see that this dress showed quite a bit of her cleavage.
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