Feral Passion

by Avery Duncan

  She held up her hands. “Now I did not do that,” she defended with forced strength. Mary narrowed her eyes on Armoria, wondering at her more demure behavior that she was trying to hide.

  “Get in the house,” he growled at her, striding forward to help Mary out of the car as gently as he could. His breath caught when his hand landed on her arm, the soft prickles of fur shocking him even more. “Mary, what did you do?” he groaned.

  She just shrugged, not saying much about it. He followed her into the house after closing and locking the door.

  “Sit your asses down and tell me what the hell happened,” he demanded, going into cop mode. “I’m not against arresting you, Armoria. Charges of assault are big for me—especially when it’s my sister that we’re talking about.”

  Mary had a feeling that he was lying when he talked about arresting the woman. Whatever relationship they had, and how ever they knew each other, they obviously felt something for one another. She started to feel sick, head pounding worse than it ever had.

  “Ulrich,” she spoke up. “She wasn’t the one who did this.” Mary rubbed her temples, ignoring her brother’s worried looks. All she wanted to do was sleep…maybe she could take a nap on the comfortable chair up in the game room.

  “How is that?” he demanded. She brings you here, all beat up, with fur covering your arms, half way through the transformation.

  She flushed, hating that his voice was so loud in her ears. Armoria sat beside her, placing her hand on Mary’s back. The pain in her headache dulled somewhat, and she cast a glance at the woman, confused and not without horror.

  “The killer…” Mary started, rubbing her forehead, voice weak but growing stronger.

  “The killer has been disposed of,” Amoria said, breaking into Mary’s sentence. Her voice was low, pained, as she sat next to Mary.

  There was a tense silence, in which Ulrich stood there, naked except for Sponge Bob boxers, eyes darkening with what looked like murder.

  At the exact same moment that Ulrich jumped forward, Armoria flung herself to the side, eyes wide, vanishing into thin air.

  Chapter 36

  “You hurt my Chosen,” Kevin accused, voice pained.

  Raffaele bowed his head, staying silent. He knew that he had been in the wrong from the beginning, that he should have kept his mouth shut as he knew he should have. The betrayal that he knew was misplaced had overcome him, made him furious.

  Mary had lied to him—or that was what he had thought. Baiting him, drawing him in, making him feel horrible as tears streamed down her cheeks in the hospital parking lot. The panic that had radiated from her fragile body had made him feel pained, that he had been the one to cause it by not coming to her sooner.

  “And because of you, she is weak, taken!” Kevin shouted, a black light hitting beside Raffaele. If he hadn’t been trained on staying calm and knowing that at any point something unexpected could happen, he would have jumped and screamed like the pansy bitch he thought he was at that moment.

  Kevin continued. “And what would you have done, had you not known the truth?” he asked, voice booming. “Are you even considering apologizing to her, after what you’ve learned from Stuart and hers conversation? I doubt she would talk to you at all,” he raged, a slam from above resounding throughout the room.

  “I doubt that you will have the chance to, after this morning and the murderer!” Kevin spat, another black light flashing beside him.

  Raffaele paused, breath stopping. “What?”

  “And you know that—“

  “Kevin, shut the fuck up!” he snapped, trying to figure out what the Creator had meant about the “murderer”.

  The raging stopped. As did the flashing black lights.

  “Now, what about the--?” he started, but a quick flash of bright red, almost like blood, shone beside him. Yet it didn’t end, instead lasting for close to a minute.

  He stared at it, pausing. Something was off…

  “Kevin!”

  A woman’s high pitched screech echoed throughout the room. Raffaele looked at her, digesting in her appearance with slow horror.

  “You…” Raff started, backing away.

  “Kevin, you have--!” She cut off, looking at Raffaele with widening eyes. “Oh, god—“

  “The hell… you were in my dream… You were…”

  Her face held stark panic as she looked up as if she could see Kevin. “Let me up!” she demanded, fear in her voice. “Let me up, Kevin!”

  Raffaele stared at her, not registering her words, but picturing her clawing at his chest, replacing Mary…

  “I can’t do that right now, Armoria,” Kevin said, hard.

  “Everyone is going to kill me,” she whimpered, wringing her hands.

  “You know that he cannot kill you while in my court,” he replied, sounding as if he were talking to a child and getting fed up.

  “Armoria? The hell… What are you?” Raffaele asked in amazement, drawing in her scent. It smelled similar to when he had had his dream… He would never forget that, he thought, staring at her. The claws were gone, she had all of her skin, her hair was cleaner…there wasn’t any blood.

  Purposefully ignoring him, the blond shouted in frustration. “Let me the fuck up, dammit!”

  A voice broke in, one that Raffaele wasn’t really acquainted with. “You know better than to talk like that to my brothers, Armoria,” said a deep voice, deeper than Kevin or Stuart’s voices had ever been.

  She let out a breath. “Do you not see that he is ready to kill me, along with Mary’s brother? I got her home, killed the bastard, and I can’t even seek comfort in my own home now!” Raffaele stared at her in slight amazement.

  “Home?” he repeated, dumbfounded.

  Still, Raffaele was ignored.

  “I still expect you to respect those of you around you. I taught you better,” the same voice chided.

  He heard Kevin’s familiar sigh. “Is my court to be a party place now? I have never had so many people in here at once than I have these past days.”

  “Whatever,” Armoria growled, eyes flashing once again. “I’m out. Glad to know that you guys don’t care that I almost died!”

  Then she was gone, blood red light pooling around Raffaele as she left. Before, the black shocks of light had left him unfazed. But seeing her, watching her…his jaw dropped.

  “You need to apologize to my Mary!” Kevin said, as if what had just happened hadn’t happened at all. Raffaele’s jaw dropped even more.

  The same deep voice that had spoken to Armoria growled, “She isn’t yours.”

  Raff’s eye twitched. “She isn’t any of yours! Let me the hell out, Kevin. I’ve had enough of this. I swear, you and your brothers are a whole ‘nother thing of fuckin’ Days of our Lives.”

  “You will apologize?” Kevin asked, wary.

  Raff nodded, irate. “As soon as you tell me what the hell happened to her, and you wake me up.”

  “The killer captured her,” Kevin said, sounding displaced. “Armoria…I do believe she finally made her move. Mary is safe at home, her brother is tending to her right now. She is having some side effects, and she is being protected from the human eye. Please remember that she has had a stressful last couple of days,” he added with a hint of accusation, “and she doesn’t need any more horse dung from you.”

  “Crap,” he corrected absently, already thinking of the meeting that he was going to have with her.

  Did that mean that the threat of the killer was gone now? “Yes, I believe so,” Kevin said, reading Raffaele’s thoughts. Raffaele grimaced, feeling an ache suspiciously near his heart.

  The next thing Raffaele knew, he was gasping, waking up as suddenly as he had been called to Kevin’s court. His hotel room was clean, his clothes from the day before still on his body, and the covers hadn’t even been pulled over himself.

  He groaned, thinking that had been the worst, most longest talk—or confrontation—in his life. Kevin rarely had a chanc
e to talk one-on-one with Raffaele. He was, after all, Stuart’s. But When Stuart had taken Mary from the room, and some sort of…mirror had appeared, he hadn’t cared.

  All he knew was that he had hurt her, accused her, and most likely damned them. No matter what, they would have the bonding. There was nothing that could change that. Whether she would be happy about it though, was a matter to be worried about.

  A Promise of Bond could almost never be broken, especially between leaders. Rare as it was, it would become a big deal within the races. The two major families—or what was left of Raffaele’s and himself—would not go unnoticed by anyone. When a bonding like thi occurred, it was shocking, and sometimes a gamble on lives.

  Rules would be made, things would indeed change—for the better or worse, he had no clue. And he couldn’t bring himself to, even though those rules would affect everyone. What he was focused on was winning Mary back, being in her good graces.

  The emotion, the utter devastation that he had witnessed in her eyes, came back to haunt him—just as he assumed they always would. To be accused of forcing a Promise of Bond was painful, and long lasting in the mind of the accused. He doubt that she would forget about his cruel words, and all Raffaele could feel was extensive regret.

  He had had no clue what had come over him, and now that Mary had been threatened, he had a hard time believing that the man who had tried to steal her from him was actually gone. Just thinking about the murderer’s hands on his Mary’s delicate skin caused him to feel murderous rage.

  Getting up, he took a quick shower and ignored the ache in his bones and heart.

  By the time he was in the car, had had called Hannah and let her know that she would need to prepare for one of the company jets to be available when he called him. Even though he knew for fact that Mary would put up a fight at the prospect of leaving her people and her family, he was taking her to safety and was most definitely going to make their bonding a true one.

  He was not going to live the rest of his life with a woman that didn’t love him, when he was beginning to realize that he couldn’t live without her.

  Chapter 37

  “You need what?”

  Raffaele sighed. “I need the address already, Romero. You’ve asked that exact question several times already.”

  A pause. “Sorry, not every day I have guys lining up to talk to Ulrich about his baby sister—the last guy who did that was in ICU for weeks.”

  Raff’s lips quirked, but he didn’t comment on it. “Just give me the address. I promise I won’t end up with punctured lungs.”

  “It’s not your lungs that’ll be broken,” came the muttered response. But he gave the address to Raff anyways and after a couple more words, they hung up and he was on his way to Ulrich’s place, which was a couple miles away from where Mary lived.

  He turned off the car, staring up at the house, feeling his heart pound. He hadn’t felt like this since high school—actually, not even then. It felt like he was back in the cellar, waiting for the dark-clothed men to come in. Wiping his hands on his jeans, trying to still his nervousness, he climbed out of the car and walked up to the door with a steady gait.

  Before knocking, there was a strong curse and a couple of other raised voices. One of them he knew to be Ulrich’s, and the other sounded like Mary’s. Was she really okay? Swallowing, he knocked on the door, closing his eyes briefly.

  “Who is it?” Ulrich roared, obviously in the middle of yelling something else.

  Raffaele stayed silent, waiting till the door was jerked open. When the smaller woman saw who was standing there, it was almost closed in his face. He frowned, putting his foot in the doorway and walking inside.

  Mary, of course, said nothing.

  “You’re so stupid sometimes, Mary!” her brother raged, stomping into the room. “See? That could have been Armoria, about to slit your throat open!”

  Raffaele stared at him, deadpan. So they knew the woman, too.

  “What are you doing here?” Ulrich asked suddenly, as if just realizing that Raff was there.

  “Talk to you,” he said shortly, knowing that Mary would run if he mentioned talking to her.

  “About?” Ulrich crossed his arms over his bare chest, tapping his foot.

  “Things…” Raffaele’s voice trailed off as he took in Ulrich’s appearance.

  Mary’s brother rolled his eyes, huffing. He dropped his arms, picking at his Spongbob pants. “I’m going to go and change. I’ll leave you two love-birds alone for a bit,” he sneered mockingly before leaving them to change.

  Raffaele shifted his feet as the deafening silence took place. Mary was staring ahead, eyes focused yet not, her body tense as a tightly strung bow. When he got farther into the room, his eyes picked up on several things at once.

  Her skin, or what he could see of it, had small, light patches of white striped fur. Welts were swelling on her arms, the blackness startling and angering him. Her eyes, as much as she tried to hide it, held pain. A pain so profound, it looked like pure agony as he stared at her.

  He wondered if it was because of him, or because of her body.

  Raffaele assumed both.

  The remembered feel of her in his arms made his hands fist at his sides, fighting the urge to pull her into him as he had before. But that most likely wouldn’t happen any time soon, not with the way that he had hurt her.

  He hadn’t understood, had chosen to ignore Kevin, when he had mentioned side effects. He had assumed it was because of Raffaele, and that because the woman Armoria had said the murderer was dead, killed, no harm had come to Mary.

  Raffaele took a mental breather, and sat next to Mary, who had moved to the couch. If possible, she tensed even more.

  “How are you feeling?” he tried, feeling like he was walking on thin ice. Or, by the look in her eyes, on fiery coals. At first, he didn’t think she was going to reply to him.

  Then, “I’m fine.” Her voice was rough, sounding cracked and dry.

  Misery ran through him.

  If he was going to go in, he might as well dive as deep as he could. “When would you like to hold the ceremony?” Even though he asked the question, he struggled to get the words out.

  Her face beat red, then paled. “Whenever you wish,” she replied quietly, looking down at her hands. Hands that were covered with silken stripped fur, claws curving delicately.

  Raff wanted to ask what had happened—no, he needed to know what happened. But, if he asked, he feared he would go on a killing rage. Just staring at her, he felt emotions build up inside of himself that he had never experienced before.

  He controlled his burning rage—just barely. Clenching his hands at his sides, he glanced down at her hands again and felt a tenderness for her that he hadn’t ever felt before. She was so fragile, so…broken looking.

  Raff was just about to ask her what happened when her brother came down stairs, dressed in some sweat pants and a sweat shirt, looking like a boxer with flaming eyes and clenched fists.

  “Romero called in. A report was called in. Dead body, knifing victim,” he said, looking at Mary. “I think we found his house, ladies and gentlemen.”

  Raffaele had also looked over at Mary, but only to see a paling in her cheeks that made him think she was going to faint. “So he’s really…dead? Like dead dead?” she asked, hands twisting in her lap.

  Ulrich nodded, sending a look Raff’s way. “Romero wants us down there as soon as possible, and I can only agree. Armoria may be involved in this—actually, I know for a fact she is. Mary, I don’t want you to say a word about the woman at all.”

  Her brows twisted. “Why?”

  “Something tells me that she isn’t supposed to be alive.”

  Chapter 38

  Mary rode with her brother to the site, had resisted any thought or offer of being in the same car as the man that had made a fool of her. The trees zoomed by as her brother turned the lights that were on top of the police car on, and Raffaele followed behind them at
the same pace.

  She stared out of the window, a deadened look on her face, feeling as if this weren’t...real. It was too easy, she thought, picking at her seat belt and watching a small old couple jump out of the way for her brother’s car, as they had been walking on the cross walk. Something just felt...wrong. Like it wasn’t done, that he wasn’t done.

  What were the chances that the person who was reminding her of the woman from her dream, who fit the exact description that Jared had given her of the lady that had caused him to get hit, would show up, claiming that she had killed the killer and had “rescued” Mary?

  None.

  “On our way,” her brothers distracted voice said into the police scanner that she hadn’t heard talking.

  “Hurry up, the coroner is waiting on you and getting antsy,” Romero’s static voice said into the car.

  “Tell him to just start, I’ll be there shortly.” He snapped his phone closed, finishing the drive in tense silence.

  Mary looked down at her hands, thinking that she would have to stay in the car if the fur didn’t disappear soon. Already, it was receding into her skin, the white fur barely showing unless a trained eye looked close enough. The bruising, however, would take close to two days to disappear, and already the ache of the healing was affecting her.

  When they pulled up to a somewhat familiar house, chills covered her. White, plane, the window sill peeling, the door barely closing all the way, it was eerie in itself, causing even Ulrich to swallow. He gave her a look that plainly said “stay” and opened the door, Raffaele pulling in behind their car in the long driveway that didn’t suit the house at all.

  The weather was much like the situation. Dark clouds rumbled in the distance, small distractions that made the day worse for her. The trees were swaying with the strong wind, and it even rocked the car slightly. Rolling down the window, she looked up at the sky and grimaced.

  It hadn’t been so bad when Armoria had awoken her. The sun had been so bright it had almost blinded her, and now it was so dark and eerie that she could barely stand to sit still.