shoulders. When she got nothing more than a mumble she turned back to Damien. "What happened to her? Why is she like this?" She pointed at the lump still lying in the bed not moving. She feared the worst. "My beautiful, vibrant sister does not drink herself to a stupor. Ever. She takes things in stride and keeps going. She has more will and strength than anyone I know. Not even when our parents died. While I was falling apart she took care of everything." She could feel the hysteria rising or maybe it was the lack of food or the wolf bite. But she was about to fall apart. "We really should talk." He touched her shoulder and she flinched before whirling on him. "We need to talk? Does that have something to do with her? What the heck is going on?" There were so many unanswered questions she didn’t know where to start. He grabbed her hand again and gently touched the bandage at her wrist. "It has to do with this mostly? And yes, your sister." "You know why she is like this don’t you? You need to spit it out because I literally cannot imagine what you could say that would make me understand this." "Faaiitthh, is that you?" her sister slurred. "Yes, Bel, it's me.” She used her favorite old nickname from when they were little hoping it would get through all the alcohol soaked brain cells. “What's going on? Are you okay?" "Youuu realllly shouldn't be heeerree. Not safffe." Faith's body tensed, the hair on the back of her neck bristling. "What do you mean not safe? What are you talking about?" She brushed her sister's usually gorgeous but now matted and sticky hair out of her eyes. "Talk to me, Bel." "Werewolves on the island. Not safffe," Rebel repeated. Faith shook her head. "You've definitely had too much to drink, sis. You’re kind of right though. There are wolves on the island. I had a bit of a run in with one earlier." She held up her bandaged wrist. Her sister's eyes widened. "Faith, you're not listening," she whispered. "Not just wolves. Men who change. I saw it with my own eyes." "I'm sure you did." She patted Rebel on the shoulder and then rounded the bed to go to the bathroom. Her sister needed some water to drink and a cold rag. Under other circumstances she might suggest coffee to sober her up, but this was extreme. The best thing for her at this point would be sleep. Out of sight of both her sister and the man who made her feel off kilter whenever she was around him, Faith grabbed her head and winced at the throbbing pain. She wasn't feeling too hot either and didn't even get to blame it on an alcohol binge like her sister. While she dug through the bathroom drawers searching for some aspirin to go along with the glass of water, Damien appeared in the doorway. "We need to–" He didn't finish his sentence before he rushed forward to catch her when she swayed sideways. "You're not feeling well are you?" She shook her head. "I'll be fine. Just a little light headed is all. I skipped lunch and haven't had dinner yet." "Uh-huh. Give them to me." He held out his hands. She looked down at the empty glass and bottle of pain medication still gripped in her hands. "I'm fine. Really. I need to take care of Rebel." "You need to sit down and let me handle this." His voice deepened, his tone clear he would take no more arguing. "You're bossy," she said. "It comes with the territory." He took the glass and filled it with water and then shook two aspirin from the bottle. "You first," he demanded. When she hesitated, he sighed. "Don't worry. We'll take care of Rebel too. She may be a hot head pain in my ass, but I’m still kind of fond of her." There was something about this situation that seemed off. He was being nice enough to her. Yet she got the feeling of being treated like a child, which resulted in her wanting to refuse his help and ignore the medication and water he offered. With some effort she shook most of those feelings away and took the pills. The fact she wanted to get rid of this