by Erica Woods
I couldn’t breathe.
My feet kicked at Tim, but he only stepped closer, pushing his body against mine, forcing a leg between my thighs and—
Tim removed his hand, wrapped it around my throat instead. “Scream all you want, human. There’s no one here to hear you.”
My insides turned to a frozen wasteland. Of all the things he could’ve said, that was the most terrifying. If no one was here, I was completely at his mercy. And he was so much stronger than me.
He snickered, and that cold, merciless sound told me everything I needed to know.
Tim would hurt me in ways I’d never been hurt before unless I could escape.
I let go of the hand squeezing my throat, curled my fingers into claws, and dragged my nails down his face.
He cursed and loosened his hold.
It was enough.
I pulled with all my might. Ducked. Avoided the arm shooting out. Scrambled to reach the door. Angry hisses behind me, feet stomping on wooden planks.
My hand reached out, one finger brushed the door handle and—
A burning pain in my scalp. My head snapped back with such force my body followed.
“No!” I tried to yell, tried to scream, but my lungs were starved for air, terror making my breathing too shallow to produce enough force. My cry was a reed-thin, barely-there sound that was swept away on the wind.
Then I was on the ground, Tim’s hand in my hair, Tim’s breath in my face, Tim’s fingers digging into my flesh.
Blackness crept in around the corners until only a pinprick of sight remained.
And then Tim’s snarling face rushed toward me. “You’ll pay for that!” He rolled on top of me, his weight all wrong, too heavy, crushing my lungs and my spirit and the wall protecting my mind.
Wild with panic, I kicked and bit and clawed to get away, to hurt him, to do something before he violated me in a way I knew I wouldn’t survive.
I’d been through too much. I’d break.
Tim hissed when a flailing limb hit him in the face, but he didn’t let me get away again.
He was too strong, easily overpowered me, and caught both my arms in a tight grip above my head. Slowly, his furious stare molded into something uglier, something darker, and he used his claws—claws?—to rip my shirt open.
Cool air blew across my vulnerable skin and I writhed. Muscles strained with effort, shook with exhaustion.
Too weak.
Lips peeled back in hideous victory, Tim leered down at my bare breasts.
Crippling shame descended, followed by a hopelessness so encompassing I briefly wished I could die.
This can’t happen!
My taut body twisted and turned, bucked against Tim’s iron grip.
Tim ground my cheek against the cold patio.
Silent sobs tore my throat to broken tatters.
Tim shredded my pants.
Hot tears ran rivulets down my cheeks.
Tim ran his free hand from my knee up my thigh, until he touched the soft fabric of my borrowed boxers.
My stomach revolted, twisted, dipped, shrunk and expanded with waves of nausea. I kicked both my legs up, trying to dislodge him.
Tim would not be budged.
I was swamped by feelings of disgust, despair, crippling shame. But by far the most dominating emotion was the feeling of helplessness. At not being able to fight. No matter what I did, I couldn’t stop this nightmare. I was too weak, or Tim was too strong. My body an unwilling participant in what would be a gruesome act meant to degrade and destroy, while my mind was held hostage, forced to witness the very thing that would annihilate it.
A long, despairing wail left me as my body was crushed under his weight.
Tim plucked at my boxers.
My mind threatened to break.
“These have to go,” the evil on top of me said while he licked his lips and gripped the front of the boxers.
He’d tear them, now, and leave me completely bare, completely helpless, completely destroyed.
Inside my mind I felt a vague echo of fury. Of something dark and deadly. Something wanting to escape.
A glimmer of hope.
My monster!
I wanted to cry with relief. Why hadn’t I thought about that? I dug deep, tried to open the cage that always kept it contained. I pulled and yanked but the door wouldn’t yield. It felt heavy, stuck. Like pulling an anchor through water and mud.
The cage was stuck. It didn’t want to be opened. Yet I could feel the monster’s urgency, the desire to kill bubbling from the other side of that tightly shut door.
Why couldn’t I open it?
I gave one last mental heave only to be slapped down so hard my ears wouldn’t stop ringing.
The force of the devastation that filled me then was unlike anything I’d ever felt before.
A complete lack of hope.
There was nothing I could do. I couldn’t save myself, couldn’t stop Tim. Even my monster had given up on me.
I would have to endure this nightmare. Endure and pray that it would not break me. That both body and mind would survive long enough that I could see justice be done and Tim be destroyed.
A cold, deadly rage bloomed in my chest and for the first time in my life all I could think, all I could smell, see, hear and imagine, was blood. Tim’s blood.
Tim’s blood in my mouth as I tore out his throat. Tim’s blood on my face as his life poured out of his body. Tim’s blood everywhere but inside him, leaving his eyes lifeless and unseeing for all eternity.
But then Tim lowered his face and grinned down at me, and all that remained was fear.
“Cry. Scream. Fight!” Slowly, so slowly I thought I would die, he stroked a hand down my belly and gripped my boxers between two clawed fingers. “It won’t make a lick of difference . . .”
I gathered all my strength and shrieked my pain and my rage.
The muscles along his arm tightened. His lips drew back. He smiled.
35
LUCIEN
The human female was not in her room.
No heartbeat, no soft breaths, no sleepy sounds. Her room was empty.
What was the wench up to?
I paced up and down the hallway. Once. Twice. Three times.
Where was she?
Suspicion bubbled up from the depths of my core. It stung. Like acid flowing over my inner armor, causing boils and tears in material I had thought impenetrable.
I should never have lowered my guard.
My fingers twitched with the urge to curl, but I suppressed it and allowed my face to settle into its most natural expression. The cold indifference I showed the world had been mistaken for a mask by silly females in the past, but in reality it was what I was. Who I was.
Cold. Unfeeling. Impenetrable.
Are you still?
Ignoring the sneaking doubt the same as I did all emotions, I moved with purposeful silence.
No female upstairs. Living room empty. Kitchen . . . A few crumbs on the counter. Perhaps enjoying a midnight snack?
Alone?
A silent snarl curled my mouth.
A deep inhalation revealed only the female’s lingering scent. Ash had dragged Ruarc and Jason out on a hunt with the visiting pack—to keep them away from the human—but it would not have surprised me to learn of Ruarc’s premature return.
The fool is determined to be the cause of his own destruction.
No matter the cost, I would not allow Ruarc to die for a female.
When I neared the back door, my legs grew roots and refused to move. Fur I didn’t possess wanted to bristle in warning. I stared.
Something didn’t feel right.
My vision shrunk until the door loomed before me, dark and impossibly ominous. I couldn’t tear my gaze away.
Silent. Everything went silent while I tried to understand why my instincts were roaring.
I lifted my face, used both nose and mouth to taste the air.
Something in me chafed at th
e smell lingering on my tongue. There was an odd scent in the air, one that did not belong. It smelled like stark terror interwoven with a predators fierce anger. And it smelled decidedly female.
There was another scent, too. Other. Not pack.
A quiet, quiet growl rose in my throat. Alert energy rushed through each cell, but despite the crackling chaos I remained calm. Detached.
The steady cold I was accustomed to enveloped my heart, my lungs, my very being. A dense barrier, thick with snow and ice and metal forged in blood, it guarded against weakness, it forbade emotion from wrestling control from the mind.
But then . . . a muffled wail.
It snuck beneath the door, smashed into my chest, and shattered my carefully constructed armor as though it had never been. The anguish in that simple sound made everything inside me come to a crashing halt.
My breath.
My blood.
My heart.
I stood there. Frozen like I hadn’t been since I was a child seeking a safe haven from the terrors of the night. But this time the fear wasn’t for myself. It was for the female who had uttered the torturous cry.
A cruel voice issued a taunt and my mind went blank. Something dark swept through me. Something dark and deadly and hideously destructive.
Rage.
It struck. Battered. Melted ice and turned the blood in my veins to knives.
My hands curled.
I crept through the door without making a sound. And what I saw, what awaited . . . My blood curdled.
My vision flashed from dark red to black. Claws sprouted from my fingers. Long, sharp fangs cut my lips as they sprang from my upper and lower jaw.
The frozen wasteland of my soul ignited with volcanic heat.
And I. Did. Not. Care.
A male—a male not of our pack—lay on top of the female under our protection. Vile threats flew from his lips. His claws were out. Touching. About to rip. And her shirt . . .
Her shirt was torn.
Nothing else registered. A roar thundered in my ears. Swiped at my mind. Silenced everything else. It grew louder and louder until I felt an answering explosion build in my chest.
And then I was moving so fast everything blurred.
I reached them. Did not make a sound. Dug my claws into the worthless cretin’s back and threw him off my—the female.
Bloodied claws dug into my palms.
In the back of my mind a familiar, cold voice urged caution. Warned that if I did not stop to rebuild my icy fortress it may be lost for good.
I paid it no heed.
A thud. His body crashing into cold earth with a thump.
My head swiveled, noted where he’d landed.
I followed.
Then Tim lay at my feet, as powerless as Hope had just been and about to feel pain far surpassing what he would’ve inflicted upon her had I not arrived in time.
If I hadn’t gone to find her . . .
The roar in my ears was joined by drums. Battledrums.
This male . . . this male would die.
Incredulous eyes blinked up at me, and I smiled.
How could I begin to describe the pleasure I took from his paling face, from the knowledge of his own death stamped across wan features?
I couldn’t.
But I could ensure what happened here today would be beyond what even the worm at my feet could ever have imagined.
I bared my teeth in a cold smile, dark anticipatory pleasure stretching my lips as my true nature was given room to grow.
And then . . .
A lightning quick strike. A bloodcurdling scream. A smaller, wetter thump.
I watched with deadly satisfaction as blood sprayed from the writhing, vile meat on the ground. So much more flesh to take . . .
Another menacing smile stretched my lips taut as I wondered what I would remove next.
36
HOPE
The terrible weight crushing me lifted and I could finally breathe.
I scrambled to get up, to get away, to run, but my legs couldn’t hold me. Water had replaced muscles, jello had replaced bones. I was a mass of rolling, gasping, heaving goo—a two year old would move faster.
Tim. Where was Tim?
He’ll come back!
Just as I managed to peel my head off the porch, a terrible, high-pitched scream cut through the cold night.
Goosebumps rose like mounds of angry ants under my skin. What . . . what was that?
Hands trembling, thighs shaking, feet twitching, it took me several tries before I managed to stand. I blinked. And then I blinked again.
The earlier clouds had broken, leaving a lone beam of moonlight shining through on the horrific scene playing out about ten feet from where I stood.
Tim writhing on the ground.
Tim making hideous, pain-filled little noises.
Tim slapping at the grass, rolling from side to side, mouth wide open, eyes squeezed shut only to blink open and roll around in his head.
Above Tim loomed an avenging angel with a smile so savage, so cruel, I could barely stand to look at it.
I rubbed my eyes, but no matter how long I did that or how many times I blinked, the scene didn’t change. Lucien was towering above the blubbering mess on the ground, a brutal, inhuman smile twisting his harsh beauty into a terrifying, cutting mask.
His lips moved, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. The low, silken voice wouldn’t let a single word carry, but by the way Tim reacted, he’d heard every word and would rather face the devil himself than Lucien.
I took a shaky step forward, then another, stumbling onto the damp grass, eyes glued to Lucien. I didn’t know what I was doing or what I wanted, but I had to get to him. I had to . . . had to—
Another cloud parted. My stomach dropped.
“L-Lucien?” His name was less than a whisper, caught in a gasp and twisted in my dry mouth. His arm . . . his arm was covered in blood.
I tried to rush forward, but my gaze snagged on something on the ground, something pale and pallid, lying in the grass above Tim’s head.
A piece of flesh.
My eyes shot to Tim’s groin where blood was spurting through a ragged hole in his pants.
Oh my god.
Lucien had ripped off Tim’s . . . Tim’s man-part.
As if only then remembering my presence, Lucien turned. Slowly. Glittering eyes examined me from head to toe, catching on my ripped pants and the boxers revealed underneath.
That terrible smile that made him look like a murderous god come down to exterminate his humans vanished, replaced by something worse, something far deadlier.
Before he could get a good look at my exposed breasts, I used an arm to cover them, fighting another wave of searing shame. As I lowered my head and averted my gaze—unable to stop the betraying wobble of my lower lip—Lucien snapped out a, “Stay there,” to Tim and advanced on me.
Careful not to touch me, he stopped and kept his gaze fixed on my face, never once dipping below my neck. “Are you hurt?” His voice was a razor wire wrapping around my throat, but instead of digging into my skin and cutting off my air, its touch became a caress. A promise.
A promise of violence and protection and outrage.
“Hope?”
Startled, I glanced down at my arms, only now feeling the burning ache Tim’s claws had left behind.
Lucien followed my gaze. “I will kill him for you.” Cold eyes burned into mine. “Turn away.”
Those words . . . My brain refused to understand. I kept getting distracted by Tim’s low moans, by the stench of blood and urine and fear. My eyes darted from Tim’s writhing form to his bloody, torn off appendage to Lucien’s glittering eyes.
Everything was so—so far away.
I will kill him for you.
An ugly part of me rejoiced in the violence of that offer, the violence already perpetrated. If Lucien hadn’t ripped it off, the thing that was now the reason for Tim’s pain would have torn through me and
destroyed a piece of my soul that I could never have gotten back. But . . . another part of me was horrified. Mostly at myself for not being more horrified.
“No,” I said, surprising both of us. “I . . . I don’t want you to kill him.”
“May I ask why not?” A silken question. No need to yell when violence lurked in eyes that burned.
I took a deep breath, glad I finally could. “Because—because I don’t want to be the cause of anyone’s death. And maybe if . . . if he”—I couldn’t bring myself to say his name out loud—“is given a second chance he’ll do something good with it.”
Emotionless mask slowly sliding back into place, Lucien listened with a cocked head. “As you wish.”
Just like that my legs gave out. Before I could hit the ground, Lucien was there. He hooked one arm beneath my knees, the other supporting my back, and lifted.
“I have you.”
I’d never been this close to him before. With my cheek resting against his chiseled chest, his scent washed over me; tantalizing, heated, like when the spring air turns to summer and all you can smell is life. Vibrant and vital and vivid.
I’d thought being this close to him would freak me out—not that I’d made it a habit to fantasize about being in Lucien’s arms—but despite our rocky relationship and the disdain he so often showed me, I couldn’t help but relax.
Lucien made a sound deep in his throat, turned, and took two steps toward the house before going unnaturally still.
“W-what is it?” I asked when he turned and cocked his head. Listening? Shivers ran up and down my arms and legs, my fingers digging into Lucien’s hard bicep.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said, turning us to face the woods. “They are returning.”
They? They who?
I was shaking too violently to ask, but I had a pretty good idea who it would be.
None of the guys had come rushing out when Tim started shrieking in pain. Not even Ruarc. He would have come—unless he was too far away to have heard.
Holding onto Lucien for dear life, I lifted my head and followed his gaze. At first, I couldn’t see anything, just the dark edge of the forest surrounding their property, but after a minute or two the bushes—and even the trees—shook as they parted.