by J. E. Taylor
She slid the cherry between her lips, severing it from the vine in such a way that he sucked in his breath, his chest rising and falling with the desire pumping through his blood, emitting a scent she adored, the tang of feral wanting.
Lifting the glass to her lips, she sipped the drink. Her thirst flared and she downed the delectable liquid. “This is really good. What’s in it?”
“Fruit punch, pineapple juice, Sprite, along with the fruit, of course,” he answered. “Do you want me to get you some more?”
“Sure.”
Before she knew it, he was back with a drink in each fist, both for her.
“This way I don’t have to run off again for at least another five minutes.” He flashed his dazzling white teeth in her direction.
Halfway through the third glass, the room tilted and she blinked, staring at the wavering liquid in her glass before bringing her gaze back to Jeremy’s expectant smile.
“Why don’t you finish that and I’ll take you outside? It’s getting warm in here,” he said, pointing to the glass, and she nodded, downing the rest and setting the glass on the nearest table.
Instead of heading out front as she expected, he pulled her up the stairs, corralling her out onto the balcony, and cornered her against the siding, pressing his body to hers, his lips finding the curve of her neck and his hands wandering over her silky shirt.
“Jeremy,” she whispered, blinking away the slow spin that gripped her.
“What?” He brought his mouth away from her skin and raised a questioning eyebrow. His green eyes shimmered in the moonlight.
“What was in that drink?” Her tongue felt fuzzy in her mouth and she swallowed, scraping it along the dry roof of her mouth. She squelched the craving for another drink, especially in light of her dulled senses. She could hardly smell his musky scent or his beer-laced breath, even though he was inches away, and a constant buzz filled her ears, distorting all sound.
His grin widened and his eyes twinkled. “It’s a grain punch.”
A measure of fear spun up her spine chilling her warm skin. Her father’s words echoed in her ear. “Drinking will eliminate your ability to recognize trouble and stunt any opportunity you might have of escaping danger.” His staunch parental glare punctuated the statement and she never once questioned the hereditary reaction to alcohol. After all, he had been right about everything else.
“Don’t look so upset, angel. Enjoy the buzz.” His lips found hers, drowning all her protests, drowning all logic, drowning all thoughts of her father’s warning.
His kisses, along with the stroke of his hands and his whispered promises of forever, were as intoxicating as the drink and she allowed him to lead her into his bedroom. The door latched behind them and he navigated her toward the bed. Helping her undress, his hands never stopped their exploration, fanning the flames in the pit of her stomach and she matched his fervor, nipping at his neck and chest and stomach. He stopped her when she reached for his belt.
“I know what you are.” His sinuous tone filled her ear just before his tongue swiped it, sending chills through her lithe form and before she knew it, he had her wrists bound behind her back and a blindfold covering her eyes.
“I know what you are.” This time his voice held contempt and the back of his hand slammed into her cheekbone, sending her to the floor with flares of pain resonating through her jaw.
With her senses dulled with shock and alcohol, he yanked her to her feet and covered her with a rough blanket that reminded her of the old potato sacks they used to use for the sack races at camp rough and scratchy, to the point it itched. She struggled in the bonds.
She found her voice as the noise dissipated and she stumbled on the curb. “Jeremy, what the hell are you doing?”
The slide of a door dispelled her question and he threw her into what felt like a cramped space. The clang of the door closing behind her confirmed her suspicions. She was inside the infamous Alpha Beta Pi van.
According to campus rumor, the fraternity brothers took turns filming their sexual encounters in this van but she didn’t think that’s what he had in mind. No, she thought his motivations were a little darker than a sexual romp.
The van lurched forward and hands tore the rough blanket from over her head. Lights bled from under the blindfold. “Jeremy?” She hated the twinge of fear in her voice.
The blindfold ripped from her face and she squinted under the intense lights. Blinking until her eyes adjusted, she made out his form just out of camera shot and he wasn’t the one driving the van.
“What do we do with her?” someone behind Jeremy asked. She thought she recognized the voice but before her brain could form a coherent thought, a needle jabbed into her leg.
Jeremy came out of the shadows and depressed the plunger, sending burning liquid up her thigh. Pain spread from the injection site, traveling through her system at mach speed. Her heart, already taxed by fear, pumped the poison through her bloodstream, creating a blazing agony in every cell of her being, and she screamed. The wail echoed through the small metal chamber and her muscles clenched into tight balls of anguish.
“Belladonna,” he said, holding up the empty syringe. “That ought to keep her under control until the cougars find her,” he said to the shadows over his shoulder.
Belladonna? Did he say Belladonna? Terror washed through her faster than the pain and her chest hitched breath after painful breath. Belladonna was one of the deadliest substances to her kind. This agony crippling her would only increase and if he spared her a fatal dose, at the very least, she wouldn’t be able to function for the next few hours, never mind defend herself against this maniac.
“Why?” she hissed, managing to straighten into a sitting position.
Sliding into the light, he crawled toward her like a predator. “Because I can’t stand freaks of nature like you,” he said, punctuating his statement with another backhand that sent her sprawling onto her side.
“Bastard.”
His laugh filled the van and he straddled her, the sound of multiple zippers barely audible above her ragged breath.
CLOSE TO TWO HOURS of rough sexual contact passed before the van pulled to a stop, gravel crunching under the wheels. Covered with their sweat, saliva, and semen, she nearly collapsed when they hauled her out of the van. Before she had a chance to recover and study her surroundings, the blindfold covered her eyes.
The late October wind lifted strands of her long black hair, whipping it around and smacking her face with each gust. Her once creamy skin turned into a relief map of gooseflesh among the bruises. Her feet protested with every sharp stone that pierced her sole. Each scratch of a branch tore at her skin, milking the pain and snapping her into instant sobriety.
Jeremy had a grip as strong as a vise on her upper arm, his fingers digging cruelly into her flesh. He dragged her along, impatiently correcting each of her stumbles with a yank.
Hot tears stung her eyes and coated the back of her throat; she stifled the sob, locking it in her chest. Her muscles still hadn’t recovered from the Belladonna or the brutal rape she endured but she refused to collapse. Not here, not in the mountains. Not with the wild cats roaming these woods, just looking for the chance to rip someone like her to pieces.
The sudden lack of sticks digging against her along with the soft moss-like grass underfoot signaled a break in the forest. Dull light bled under her blindfold, the full harvest moon illuminating the clearing. They walked another hundred paces from the wood line before they stopped.
Her bound wrists yanked toward the ground, almost knocking her to her knees and then the slack returned and her hands again rested at the small of her back.
Shivering in the night wind, she stuttered, “W-w-what are y-you d-d-oing?” Her teeth chattered through every word.
“Setting the bait,” Jeremy whispered close to her ear. His breath caressed her cheek and then a cool substance spread from the crown of her head, dripping through her hair, covering her bare skin, ticklin
g as it traced paths down her legs. The air filled with a sweet tang, reminding her of a fine cut of venison cooking on the grill and she licked her lips despite the bone chilling cold settling into her already exhausted limbs.
It took a second to recognize the substance and between the taste on her lips and the scent drowning all other scents, primal fear jump-started her adrenaline. “What are you doing?” The shiver was less pronounced as panic overtook her senses.
Another prick pierced her shoulder and the pain flared again. “If the mountain lions don’t kill you first, the wolves will. They always attack my poisoned offerings and when they do, the Belladonna in your system will kill them just as surely as it’ll kill you.”
The shuffle of feet followed his harsh statement, their pattern speeding up and drawing farther away.
“You son of a bitch!” she called after them, taking a step toward the diminishing noise. Her bound arms stopped her, anchored to something in the clearing. She struggled to break the binds. She struggled against the burning poison traveling through her bloodstream and she struggled against the need to curl up into a tight ball of agony.
Barely able to remain standing, she dropped to her knees. “I will kill you!” Alessandra cried once more and then listened until the distinct footfalls on the forest floor vanished, along with their laughter. A car ignition sparked, followed by the fading sound of the engine. A sob welled up from her bowels, the long forlorn moan echoing in the small clearing, cascading over the trees into the heart of the forest, a calling to the carnivores searching for sustenance.
Adrenaline faded and her teeth chattered, the cold soaking through her skin again and leaving her numb. Rolling her shoulder, she attempted to dislodge the blindfold, failing. After a few tries, an exasperated growl escaped between the constant click of her teeth.
An owl let out a screeching hoot and her heart lurched in her chest, her whole body following suit. The cry of a wild cat in the distance set her heart into a frantic beat, one that left her dizzy and warm despite the cold.
Fear-laced rage wound around her, and she forced herself to her feet. She didn’t want to die out here in the woods. Not at the claws of a wild beast, not on the eve of the harvest moon. A guttural roar of frustration leapt from her lips and she struggled to break the binds holding her in place, but the rope wouldn’t budge. “Son of a bitch!” she repeated over and over and over at the top of her lungs until she had no voice left.
That’s when the leaves shuffled under padded feet.
Alessandra crouched low to the ground, bringing her face to her knees, praying and shimmying the blindfold far enough to uncover her eyes. Gleaming bones, whole rib cages and skulls, along with disembodied arms and legs, littered the ground around her and her breath hitched in her chest.
Anchored to a metal bar planted in concrete in the center of the perfectly round clearing, she studied the discolored rope binding her in place. Glimmering black liquid dripped from the twine.
The shakes that gripped her this time around were not from the cold.
The ground surrounding her feet was soaked with blood. It pooled in small divots, shimmering black in the moonlight. It dripped from her torso down her legs, and it filled the night with a succulent scent of fallen prey. Marked with deer blood, she was fair game to the scavengers in the woods.
Thoughts of bears and any manner of wild cats, especially cougars, made her skin break out with droplets of perspiration, announcing her fear to any beast surrounding the clearing.
She raised her eyes to the wood line. Golden eyes peered out from the dark, dozens of them, and a low grumble surfaced in unison. Her eyes darted to the bones on the ground and back to the eyes.
The first wolf stepped into the clearing, baring his teeth and keeping his dark hungry eyes locked with Alessandra’s. The mammoth wolf stood close to six feet, his fur a mass of gray, black and white markings swirled together to form a pelt worthy of a hunter’s gun.
Alessandra stopped shaking and struggling with the binds around her wrist. “Come on.” The words came out in a low rumble from her chest and the wolf paused, its slow stalk forward halting, his teeth no longer bared.
The pack stepped into the circle, lining the woods.
Alessandra broke the stare with the alpha wolf, glancing around the clearing and counting. She brought her focus back to the first animal, tilting her head slightly. There were fifteen wolves including the magnificent gray wolf in front of her. They sniffed the air, bringing their tails between their legs, and lowered their heads in unison. A low growl broke the silence.
The mighty beast resumed his approach, slowly crossing the distance alone. The rest of the pack hung back, watching their leader.
He sniffed the blood surrounding her feet and lapped at it without breaking eye contact, the rumble still building in his throat.
Alessandra dropped to her knees in front of the wolf. “Hunter, get me the hell out of these binds,” she whispered.
The harvest moon reflected red in the wolf’s eyes as they moved from her face to the soft tissue of her neck.
“Belladonna,” Alessandra warned, causing the wolf to return his gaze to hers, his eyes widened in understanding and sadness filled the deep blue eyes.
“I know, but you can’t bite me. None of you can. If you do, you’ll die, too.”
Teeth grazed her wrists and she glanced back at the pristine white pelt of another wolf. Its powerful jaws clamped on the rope and she offered a smile to the silver eyes before she focused back on Hunter.
The pack closed the distance, but was too skittish to partake in the spilt blood surrounding Alessandra, the blood the gray wolf lapped, his tongue soaking up the thick substance with each stroke before it disappeared between his giant teeth.
“It’s okay,” she whispered, glancing at the circle.
Tentatively, they lowered their snouts to the blood and began to drink.
The ties holding her wrists loosened and she shifted so the white wolf could break the binding the rest of the way. A few minutes later, she rubbed her wrists, scanning the surrounding pack.
“There is a way,” she said and stood. She traded a glance with Hunter and his eyes narrowed in dissent. Even so, when she stood, they parted, letting her through. Without looking back, she walked into the thick woods, her head tilted low, her teeth grinding together and her eyes glimmering with the red moon.
She had a score to settle and before she stepped out of the woods onto the edge of the road, she tilted her head back, letting out a haunting howl. The pack followed suit.
She lifted her nose to the air and caught the scent, heading in the same direction they had a few hours earlier after leaving her in the clearing. Jeremy mentioned a camping trip tonight. That was before he drugged her, before he bound her and left her for dead.
She walked, ignoring the burning ache in her muscles and the sharp pain in her feet, heading downwind and reaching their campsite at almost four in the morning. She didn’t have much more time before the Belladonna seized her heart, leaving her in a death spasm. His musky scent mingled with the smoke of burning pine and hickory was a welcomed relief.
They were still up, laughing and toasting their success at bringing another shape-shifter into the woods, wondering how long she lasted before the animals attacked and if anyone heard her dying screams.
She stopped, still hidden by the thickets, her anger coiling inside, warming her near frozen skin. Reaching her hand out, she found Hunter’s soft fur at her fingertips. Stroking his massive head, she felt the flick of his tongue on her calf cleaning a small patch of dried blood from her silky skin.
“I know we swore, but it’s the only thing that’ll counter Belladonna,” she whispered under the crackling of the fire. She glanced in his deep blue eyes. “It’s the only thing that’ll save me and that bastard deserves it.”
She whistled at a frequency too low for the human ear, sending out her command. The pack silently padded through the woods, surrounding the clear
ing.
She stepped into the opening, accompanied by the mammoth gray wolf.
The laughter died as three pair of wide eyes stared in her direction.
Jeremy shot to his feet, eyes darting between a blood-soaked Alessandra and her companion. He put his hands out in front of him. “You, you, you should be dead,” he said, taking a step back. A wet spot spread across the front of his jeans, filling the air with an acrid stench mingled with fear.
The full moon hung low in the sky as the collective growl of the pack filled the clearing and they stepped into view, blocking any chance for escape.
The alcohol that prohibited her from transforming had finally worked its way through her system and Alessandra smiled. Slightly tilting her head, her teeth transitioned from blunt incisors to razor-sharp fangs.
“You do know human blood counteracts Belladonna, right?” Her teeth gleamed in the moonlight; the long canines glistened, saliva dripping at the prospect of her next meal.
The End
Continue Ally and Hunter’s story with WOLF MOON!
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Nightmares
Sweat seeps down the small of my back as I strain to see through the mist. My eyes dart back and forth but I can’t locate the source of the terrible sound echoing against the brick walls of the alley, reminding me of claws dragging against metal. Gritting my teeth, I shiver uncontrollably. My clothes are soaked, slick against my clammy skin.
Terror washes over me as his hot breath touches me from behind.
I scream...
...and am in the lobby of an old theater.
There’s a coffin in the middle of the room, and I drift to the other side to see what’s inside. The remains of my husband’s face floats in a bath of blood. My hand flies to cover the cry of horror that is escaping my mouth. I back away from the sickening smell of death. Terror, grief, and a sense of justice fight for domination over my emotions as I stare at the gruesome sight. A scraping noise startles me out of my trance. Alarmed, I flee through the doors and into the theater.