The Moon Queen

01 - Waking up

01–Waking up

Hailey’s POV:



“Pumpkin, it is time now. Wake up, please? The people here are counting on you. They need you. Your mates need you.”

“I miss you so much, Love.”

“Hey babe, when are you waking up? I can’t wait to look into your beautiful green eyes.”

Two large, warm, and soft hands are grasping my hands. I’m confused. Where am I, and what’s happening? Is this a bad dream?

Slowly but surely, I regain awareness of my body. It’s like I’ve been experiencing an out-of-body feeling the whole time. What happened? I’m not sure where I am.

“Someone, get a doctor!” someone’s voice, which was familiar, exclaimed. “I believe she’s starting to wake up!”

I’m having trouble identifying them. Even though I try to open my eyes and get a sense of my location, they’re tightly shut. That’s how it seems, or at least that’s my impression. The weight of them makes it hard to open.

“Good morning, Hailey. I’m happy to see you’re awake. My name is Dr. Kuiper. I’m going to check your reflexes.” Hands are touching my body.

My hearing is becoming better. At first, it seemed like everyone was talking to me through a barrier. I can now hear some movement. Clothes and instruments rustle in the background - those individuals in the room who move, breathe, or take a deep breath. The sound of a wolf’s growl startles me, and I flinch.

“Alpha, don’t worry about it. This is a typical procedure. To check for obstructions, an examination is required. Notice how she’s reacting to your growl? That means she hears you.” From beside me, I hear the doctor say.

The doctor is carrying on with the examination. He opens my eyes and flickers a light in them. “Pupils are responsive,”

The doctor taps my biceps with one finger while placing another on it. He does the same thing on my other arm. Applying the same technique to my triceps.

Following that, the sheet that I’m lying beneath is taken away. I hear yet another growl. It doesn’t startle me as much this time. With a chuckle, the doctor proceeds with the examination. By tapping my quadriceps muscle, he checks my knee-tendon reflex. He does the same thing again to my Achilles tendon.

He finally strokes my foot’s sole with his reflex hammer from the heel to the big toe. I squeeze my toes.

Only a small group of people know about my hypersensitive feet. Hazel once took me for a pedicure, but we were asked to leave after I accidentally kicked the beautician in the face. She touched my feet without warning, and I kicked her in response. Because of an unintentional hit that broke her nose, our afternoon of relaxation ended.

Continuing the examination, the doctor affirms that the reflexes are good.

He gauges my strength by pushing the soles of my feet and doing the same with my hands. He completes his tests and puts the cover back over me.

“Everything looks wonderful. There is currently no sign that there will be permanent damage inside.” He gives information to the people in the room.

“Hailey, can you hear me?” It’s that voice again. There’s something about that voice that quickens my heartbeat.

“She needs a moment for her brain to function properly again. Responding verbally to you can still be difficult, despite being able to hear you. This won’t work if we force it. It’s counterproductive. It’s better to offer her a choice instead of asking your question. For instance, hold her hand and ask her to squeeze it. Her hearing remains unaffected, according to the scans we took.” The doctor clarifies.

A gentle touch from a warm hand makes contact with me. Sparks’ intensity resembles a short-term blood flow obstruction.

“Sweetheart, can you give my hand a little squeeze?” A voice begs me for help, but I don’t know who it belongs to. I have an urge to do things that will make him happy. To squeeze his hand and reassure him, I hear him. So I do; I squeeze his hand.

“Oh, baby!” A hand is tenderly caressing my head. I feel lips kissing my face. The sparks I feel with each touch heightened the intensity of everything. The sparks are everywhere we have skin-to-skin contact. It’s too much to process all at once.

“Try to keep from overloading her. It’s impossible to know what’s happening in her mind without opening her eyes and speaking. I’ll give you some space for the moment. Please update me on any changes or concerns about her well-being. If not, I’ll come back tomorrow to see how she’s faring.” The door opens and closes, and then everything becomes quiet.

Three or four people seem to be in the room based on their heartbeats and breathing, from what I’m hearing. The hospital scent is overpowering, making it impossible to detect any other scents.

I hear a quiet voice say, “Hey, pumpkin,” as they approach me. “I’m glad you’re finally awake.” A hand strokes my hair. There are no sparks this time around.

“So much has happened.” The voice continues with a tremble. “We’ve missed all of you so much.”

I try to visualize an image that matches the voice in my head. The man speaking has an older voice. I recognize the nickname Pumpkin, but it doesn’t aid me in determining who this person is.

He continues, “I’ve been so worried about you.” At the end of his sentence, his voice cracks.

Another person in the room says, “Dad, the doctor said not to overwhelm her.”

“You were right, my apologies.”

“John, it’s fine. Everyone is glad that she’s finally making progress in her recovery.” The person with the warm voice is someone I hold close to my heart. But the voice isn’t the same as earlier. The voice that belonged to the sparks.

Fatigue is creeping in, but I’m pushing to stay awake. I’m overwhelmed with questions, and I’m afraid I’ll miss out on even more if I go back to sleep now.

“Sweets, are you feeling tired? Don’t worry; you can take a nap if you feel like it.”

My attempts to fight exhaustion are futile, as it always wins, and I fall back asleep. I’ve been feeling like I’m stuck in a dark hole for a while now.

I bolt awake and sit up in bed. Tears are streaming down my face. Where am I? What happened? All I can recall is the sensation of falling. The room is dim, almost like the break of dawn. The curtains are blocking my view, making it difficult to see. I need to put in effort to recognize my surroundings and figure out where I am. I find myself lying in bed, with chairs scattered around me and people sleeping in them.

Zino, my papi, along with two more wolves. They look so calm and peaceful while sleeping.

They possess their own individual beauty that makes them both extremely attractive. The longer I observe them, the stronger my attraction grows.

“You’re staring, dear.” One of them mutters under his breath with a half-opened eye.

As I’m caught peeking, my face drops in embarrassment. Who is that, and why am I suddenly feeling so shy?

“What’s the matter, baby? Why are you crying?” He asks after straightening up in his chair.

Quickly wiping away my tears, I feel frustrated with myself that I’m crying. I’m not sure why I’m crying. I’m utterly clueless about where I am or who he is.

“Don’t worry, everything will be fine.” With a gentle touch, he directs my gaze towards him by lifting my chin.

“Do you feel them? The sparks? Just keep your focus on them; everything will be alright. We’re all here to ensure it works out. I promise you, Hailey, even if it’s the last thing I do.” His words have a reassuring effect on me. I breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’ve been selfish. I want to talk if you’re feeling up to it. But for now, can I just hold you?” His look is questioning as he gazes at me. The longer I hesitate, the sadder his eyes become. His captivating blue eyes are like an ocean to immerse in.

“P-Pl-lease,” I stuttered out. A light flickers in his eyes before he carefully joins me in the bed. When he’s lying down, he draws me towards him in a gentle manner. He puts the sheet back over me. His warmth, his wonderful masculine scent–that of fresh wood burning and a hint of smoke–and the sparks lull me back into sleep. I’m able to quickly fall back asleep feeling satisfied. Instead of darkness, there seems to be light at the end of the hole this time.