by Dee Garcia
If I recoiled at any point, it was purely out of instinct. Seeing this majestic creature he spoke of took me by surprise, yes, but I can’t say I was truly afraid.
Those eyes were there, speaking to me when he couldn’t, soothing me in the same way he soothed me in his male form.
What is it about him?
That’s the last thing I remember trying to pick apart before I doze off.
“What’s her name again?” A distant voice whispers.
“Wendy, you idiot,” another hisses. “Do you pay attention to anything that isn’t blood or your dick?”
“Hardly,” the first voice chuckles. “A man has needs.”
Somewhere in my sleep-bogged mind, there’s alarms blaring, urging me to get off the ground and protect myself from imminent danger, but I don’t dare open my eyes. Whoever they are, neither one sounds like anyone I’m familiar with, and I have no intention of meeting them.
Perhaps if I lay utterly still, they’ll go away.
“Well, go on then, wake her up,” the second voice insists. “I have shit to do.”
“Wendy.” The cold toe of a shoe gently nudges my arm. “Miss Wendy, wake up.”
I try not to move a single muscle, gritting my jaw to avoid scrunching my eyes tighter, but the nudging continues. It’s unlikely anyone could sleep through that for long.
A few more calls of my name as the nudges grow harder, and I finally crack open my eyes, gasping for added effect as I sit up.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” says one of the men as he combs his medium-long, dark hair out of his face. He sounds like the second voice I’d heard.
The other man with blond unruly curls nods and sets down that familiar silver platter by his feet. “Just delivering breakfast is all.”
It’s only then I realize I’ve slept through the night.
“W-where’s the woman?” I ask warily, wondering why the hell she isn’t the one down here as usual.
The blond arches a brow and looks to his friend. “What woman?”
“The old woman. Violet?” I explain. He has to know who she is, right?
“Oh,” he chuckles, “her. She’s still asleep. Off-duty since the Captain left late last night.”
He what?
“The Captain left?” The back of my head nearly slams into the stone wall as I question them.
Both men nod in unison, the dark-haired one shoving his hands into his pockets before clearing his throat. “Yes. He and Tinksley took a little impromptu trip through the portal. Says he needed to get her away from you for a bit.”
Nevermind the fact he’s given the reason for their departure. I’m still stuck on one fact and one fact only. “They crossed the portal?”
“Mhmm,” the dark-haired man confirms.
All the air just about whooshes out of my lungs. So I was right to not trust Hook. He vowed to get me home and yet my one and only shot at getting there is now gone.
Vanished into thin air.
I knew his word meant nothing, that it was all just a way to distract me from harboring odious feelings toward his female after what she did to me.
Why I am so shocked then?
So let down?
Fuck Hook. Tavi’s coming for you. He’ll get you home, the hopeful side of me chimes. Whether he actually can is unknown, I’m just trying to deflect the blow and focus on something else.
“How long will they be gone?” I question, mentally beckoning Tavi to somehow sense they’ve left. If vampires can flash, maybe wolves can sense changes? Too far fetched? Maybe—I’m just a mortal, after all.
Again, just trying to deflect the blow.
Now would be the perfect time for him to swoop in and take me away from these lying bastards. That’s another thing I see immortals have in common; they’re liars.
“A few days, I’d say,” the blond divulges, taking tentative steps toward me. “Why? Trying to gauge how much time you have to offer yourself up before they return?” He seems quite amused, more so still when my face contorts at his cheeky presumption.
“What? No.”
“You sure?” A smirk touches his lips as he sinks to his haunches before me. “Because we can arrange as much. Heard you’re an awfully tasty treat.”
My heart slams at his choice of words, a mental reel of unwanted memories starring Armand sabotaging what little remains of my sanity. I can all but feel the way his fangs sank into my neck, the indescribable pain that radiated through my limbs as he mauled me in nothing short of a vicious fashion, tearing my skin with each tug.
The moment I see the blond man’s hand extend toward me, I’m recoiling from his impending touch, pulse rampaging in my ears. “Please don’t. Not again.”
I’m shaking at the mere possibility, suddenly cold despite the humidity fogging the dungeon’s confines.
“I’m not like Armand, sweetheart. I make sure you’re feeling real good before I take what I need.” He twirls a lock of my hair.
His touch is gentle, his voice too, but then again, so was Armand’s.
“Pass, hard pass.” I shake my head, breathing through the wave of nausea churning my empty stomach.
“Oh, c’mon—just one taste. I’ll fuck your cunt so good you won’t even feel my fangs penetrate your—”
“Kaz, enough,” the dark-haired man barks.
Kaz, as he was addressed, groans, an irked sound that prompts me to watch for his next move. With a roll of his eyes, he pushes to full height and pivots toward his mate. “You are such a bore, brother. Always ruining the excitement.”
“Yes, well, one of us has to be responsible. There’s a time and place to be bend the rules, and I can assure you now is not it. We were instructed to feed her, not feed on her.”
“Oh, cut the shit, Malik. You’re not exactly the straightest arrow in the bunch.”
“Never said I was, just reminding you that we were given a task and you’re straying from it. Now, let’s go—there’s plenty to choose from upstairs to ease your insatiable appetite.”
I’m not even perturbed by such a statement. He’s referring to the Puppets. I remember Tinksley mentioning them my second night here. Said they’d traded their freedom for a lavish life with only one condition on the dotted line—their blood. They’re living, breathing blood bags. How they’re alive after countless feedings, I don’t know. Hell, how I’m alive after Armand’s assault is still a mystery.
But I don’t dare ask, and I won’t. I’m not sure I want to know anyway.
Kaz visibly contemplates Malik’s suggestion for several moments before dragging his gaze back to where I sit, then at the platter strewn just a few feet away. “Eat up, little one, before your breakfast spoils. I’ll be back later to clean up after you.”
“I’m not hungry,” I grate, keeping my head low.
I just want them to leave.
“You say that now.” He huffs a dark laugh. “But just remember, the Captain isn’t around. Malik, here, won’t always be around either. You’re locked in a castle with a brood of hungry vampires...never know when you’ll need the extra strength to fend off the claws of death.”
And with that, he turns on his heel and heads for the stairwell with Malik on his tail, leaving me with a steaming pile of eggs and meat that eventually have me doubling over as my stomach cramps anew.
I wretch nothing but bile until I’m too weak to do anything but sleep.
It’s happening again and I’m definitely in my room. There isn’t a single doubt about it. I’ve squeezed my eyes shut at least five times, expecting a different result with each round, and the scenery doesn’t change.
This is my room.
I can’t seem to leave the bed, restricted by some invisible bindings, but I’m not sure I want to. Moving might trigger that whisper and the terrifying feeling that accompanies it. So I lay still, continue taking it all in.
Everything looks just as I remember it.
The pale blue walls, the thin linen drapes lining the window. The
window itself is still open, too, allowing the autumn breeze to filter through with each gust. The dresser housing mine and Peter’s clothing, my vanity—everything is still here, perfectly in place.
Except it’s not.
It’s the tiniest difference, but significant enough to break me out in goosepimples. I didn’t hear it at first, but there’s no mistaking it now, and I know exactly what the cause for that sound is.
I refuse to look though, focusing only on the sound. An abrupt buzzing, one that ceases as quickly as you first heard it. It comes and goes, in and out.
If you guessed flies, then you guessed right.
They’re flies, and the more I accept this is what I’m hearing, the louder it becomes, as though they’re multiplying.
“Look, Wendy, on your right. You know you want to,” the whisper tests.
No, I don’t. I don’t want to, but the next thing I know, my head is turning and it’s not of my own volition. Feels like someone has latched their grip to the sides of my head and is just guiding it, pivoting it in one fluid movement despite what resistance I try putting up.
I can’t stop it, can’t move any other parts of my body.
Can’t close my eyes, either. Meaning I can’t unsee what’s laid out before me.
I know my mouth pops open to expel the extent of my terror, and within my body, I can feel the scream exonerate from deep within.
Yet not a sound breaches the airwaves, just my jaw nearly coming off its hinges as I’m forced to look upon Peter’s rotting, dismembered corpse. Flies and maggots have consumed almost the entire span of each piece, only small portions of flesh visible through the gluttonous swarms. The blood still appears fresh, though, and there’s so much of it, saturating the light fibers of the carpet.
The most disturbing part?
He’s staring at me, those chocolate brown eyes I used to love so much now lifeless, frozen on my equally immobile form.
My skin crawls as though those very maggots are wiggling their way over me, my stomach roiling vehemently, a cacophony of my disgust threatening to taint the white sheets of the bed.
Why is he looking at me? Why is he fucking looking at me?
How?
Aren’t the eyes the first thing to go?
“Because you need to see what you lost, what can happen to you, too, if you don’t find a way home,” the whisper answers, tightening its hold on my head.
Suddenly there’s a weight on my chest, another grip sealing around my arms, then my legs. It’s worse than the last time, so much that I can’t breathe.
I feel like I’m choking, my lungs begging for air as panic consumes me.
Let me go, please let me go! I try voicing it, but of course, the words ring out only in mind. Please, please let go!
I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe!
“Wendy.”
Let go, please!
“Wendy.”
LET GO!
“Wendy...”
“Wendy, it’s me,” a voice hisses and, just like the last time, I shoot up on a gasp, heart thundering in a full-on rampage.
Kind brown eyes highlighted by silvery rays of the moon are the first thing I see, then worried brows and an unsettled, firm line thinning his lips.
“Tavi.” my voice cracks as I throw myself at him and lock my arms around his neck, grounding myself after sub-consciously living through that.
I can still hear the flies, shooting my shoulders up to my neck.
Make it stop, please.
Tavi doesn’t move, it’s like he doesn’t know what to do. How to react. Hands held up in surrender, he just lets me hang there, and honestly? I don’t even care. I’m just thankful to be coherent again.
But then he wraps his arms around me and I instantly feel safe. What terror had chilled me to my core melts away and I just breathe, let everything go. “You really came back.”
His chest bounces against mine through a soft laugh. “Third time now, little wolf. Why are you surprised?”
“Little wolf?” I smile, easing back.
He chuckles again. “You may not physically shift, but you’re part of the pack now. They’ll protect you just as they would me.”
I don’t even know what to say to that. The sentiment touches me, providing warmth within my mangled heart; perfect strangers with a willingness to help me.
But in the same hand, part of the pack?
“But—” My throat clogs with some odd, undefined emotion. “I just want to go home. I don’t belong here, Tavi. My dreams have proven as much.”
His face falls, but I note how quickly he recovers, an unbothered mask falling into place. “Then we’ll get you home.” He nods surely. “Until then, the pack will ensure your safety. You don’t have to worry about them anymore.”
There’s a deep-rooted hate to his tone, a slight curl to his lip, too. I’d already determined they’re enemies, but it’s clear as day now, piquing my interest more than it should.
An interest that must be just as clear on my face because he follows up with, “I’ll answer all of your questions, I swear it, but we need to get you out of here first. Are you ready?”
Yes.
“I’ve been ready,” I admit, palms sliding down his hard chest as I release him and fall back on my knees. “Just lead the way. Where you go, I go.”
Tavi stills, holding my stare without falter. The way he’s looking at me right now? I feel it everywhere, like this wild, free burn.
I’ve not felt anything of this magnitude before, not even with Peter.
“It’s gonna get dark, okay? Like pitch black, can’t see your hand in front of your face. I’ve got you, though. Keep your hand in mine and we’ll make it to the end before you know it, alright?” The question cuts my train of thought, snapping me back into reality.
“Just lead the way,” I repeat. “If I had to tread through hell to get out of here right now, I would. Feels like I have already honestly.”
He doesn’t question what that means, but I can tell he wants to. Probably will if and when we finally make it out.
Definitely not looking forward to that.
Rising to his feet, his sculpted frame towers high above me as he holds out a hand for me. I probably shouldn’t be noticing what a nice hand it is—I have a thing for hands and arms—but it’s hard not to, especially when my eyes trail further upwards and I see the ink covering one of his forearms.
Or the swell of his shoulders beneath a plain black t-shirt.
Or the hard lines of his jaw flexing with another soft smile.
“It’ll all be over soon, I promise.” The deep baritone of his voice bobs my throat through a swallow. “Don’t let go.”
No hesitation whatsoever. I take it, and join him on my feet, both eager and anxious to get the hell out of here. My palm burns in his grip, but I welcome it, use it to stand tall and put on a brave face.
I can’t believe I’m about to do this.
That I’m about to make an escape with a man I barely know.
It’s happening, though. It’s really happening. All that screaming, a sound I know many found disturbing, and only one person wanted to help. Only one person was so perturbed by it that he put himself at risk in an attempt to stop it.
And now here we are, him keeping good on his word to get me out.
It’s overwhelming on so many levels.
“Ready?” he asks again, his thumb gently rubbing my own.
As I’ll ever be.
♫ Heroes - Zayde Wolf ♫
Wendy hasn’t said a word since we made it out of the dungeon and I’m hating every minute of it. The only tell that she’s still with me is the semi-erratic sound of her breathing and the fact that she’s holding onto my hand for dear life.
Something I’m having to breathe through.
Her skin against mine just feels right.
And it can’t feel right because she’s hightailing it out of here as soon as she can.
Without conv
ersation, that’s all I can think about. That and the state in which I found her. My mind’s running what feels like a million miles per hour. Everything is stuck on replay, starting and ending at the same points.
Her whimpers.
Those unintelligible cries for help.
The way her body shook, too, struggling against some invisible hold.
The way she lunged for me when she finally came to, how she clung to me like a vine.
How good she felt pressed up against me.
“T-Tavi?” she whispers suddenly, falling into step beside me. “Are we almost there?”
Finally, a reprieve. “Just about.” I give a small squeeze to her hand for reassurance. “I’d say maybe half a mile more and we should start seeing some light from the moon filtering in.”
“And where will we go from there?” she presses anxiously.
“To the Woodlands, where my home is.”
“Is it safe for me to roam around out there?”
“They don’t know you’re gone yet, meaning they won’t be searching. Regardless of the upper hand, I’ve taken precautions in the event they do catch on sooner than I anticipated. The pack is currently spread out around our route, each one covering a different point. If they spot anything, they’ll let us know. I don’t foresee there being an issue, though. With Hook gone, his minions will likely keep to their tower.”
A sharp inhale meets my ears. “How did you know that?”
“Know what?”
“That Hook left.”
“Word spreads quickly around these parts, little wolf,” I chuckle. “The man may not refer to himself as the King, but that’s essentially what he is. If he steps even one foot off this island, it’s public knowledge.”
“Oh…” she trails off pensively. “Is that why you came tonight?”
“No, the plan was always to get you out tonight. Him leaving simply made it that much easier.”
“That’s exactly what I thought to myself this morning when two of his men came down with my breakfast and broke the news. As dumb as this is going to sound,” she pauses, scoffing a small laugh, “I sat there the rest of day sending you mental messages, hoping you’d somehow sense the opportunity.”