Christobel

It takes two days for Rafe to move more than three feet from my side and let someone other than the doctor and a single nurse near me. My recovery is taking a while, slower still because of the weakened mate bond, the severe blood loss, and how deep I gouged my neck. The pack doctor has said repeatedly that it is a miracle I survived. Miracle. I think I’ve read that word once or twice in my life. Never has it been used to describe any part of my existence.

Now, I’ve heard it probably three dozen times.

Miracle. Miracle. Miracle. Goddess’s Blessings.

“If your mate hadn’t been there, you wouldn’t have survived, Ms. Pride.”

“The Goddess is smiling down on you that you are still here with us.”

“Your bond must be incredibly strong. It seems Rafael willed you back to life.”

Every update on my health comes is peppered with these statements. And Rafe squeezes me tighter every time, nearly purring into my hair or shoulder. Wide awake, recovering in his arms, I don’t doubt the doctor’s words. I