After Clay bit me, I didn't regain consciousness for two days, though at the time I thought only hours had passed. I awoke in one of the guest rooms, the one that would later become my bedroom. Opening my eyes required major effort. The lids felt hot and swollen. My throat ached, my ears ached, my head ached. Hell, even my teeth hurt. I blinked a few times. The room dipped and swayed, then came into focus. Jeremy was sitting in a chair by the bed. I lifted my head. Pain exploded behind my eyes. My head fell back to the pillow and I groaned. I heard Jeremy stand, then saw him looking down at me.
"Where's Clay?" I asked. It sounded more like "whaaa-claaa," as if I were speaking through a mouthful of marshmallows. I swallowed, wincing at the pain. "Where's Clay?"
"You're sick," Jeremy said.
"Really? I couldn't tell." The retort cost me too much. I had to close my eyes and swallow again before continuing. "What happened?"
"He bit you."
The memory flashed back. I could feel my hand throbbing now. I struggled to lift it. The two puncture wounds had swollen to the size of robin's eggs. Heat radiated off them. There was no sign of pus or infection, but something was definitely wrong. A lick of fear raced through me. Was the dog rabid? What were the symptoms of rabies? What else could you contract from a dog bite? Distemper?
"Hospital," I croaked. "I should go to the hospital."
"Drink this."
A glass appeared. It looked like water. Jeremy slid his hand behind my neck and lifted my head so I could drink. I jerked away, striking the glass with my chin and toppling it onto the bed. Jeremy swore and pulled the soaked coverlet back.
"Where's Clay?"
"You have to drink," he said.
He lifted a fresh coverlet from the foot of the bed, shook it, and laid it over me. I squirmed from under it.
"Where's Clay?"
"He bit you."
"I know the damned dog bit me." I jerked back as Jeremy put his hand on my forehead. "Answer my question. Where's Clay?"
"He bit you. Clay bit you."
I stopped struggling and blinked. I thought I'd heard wrong.
"Clay bit me?" I said slowly.
Jeremy didn't correct me. He stood there, looking down at me, waiting.
"The dog bit me," I said.
"It wasn't a dog. It was Clay. He ... he Changed form."
"Changed form," I repeated.
I stared at Jeremy, then twisted from side to side, trying to get up. Jeremy grabbed my shoulders and held me down. Panic ignited in me. I fought with more strength than I thought I had, flailing and kicking. He pinned me to the bed with as much effort as he might use to restrain a two-year-old.
"Stop it, Elena." My name came off his tongue awkwardly, like a foreign word.
"Where's Clay?" I shouted, ignoring the pain searing down my throat. "Where's Clay?"
"He's gone. I made him leave after he ... bit you."
Jeremy seized both my arms and held them fast, pinning me so securely I couldn't move. He inhaled and started again.
"He's a ... " He faltered, then shook his head. "I don't need to tell you what he is, Elena. You saw him Change forms. You saw him become a wolf."
"No!" I kicked up, my legs striking only air. "You're crazy. Fucking crazy. I saw a dog. Let me go! Clay!"
"He bit you, Elena. That means ... it means you're the same thing. You're becoming the same thing. That's why you're sick. You need to let me help you."