Nightly Howls

by Madeline Blake

  I ponder my plausible cure for the illness that plagues me. If I can only indulge in these illegal desires, fulfillment will lead to a permanent release from the curse. I have no reasoning for this, no logical evidence that this will be the case. But I need to free myself from these chains, no matter the cost.

  But it’s better to show restraint. Maybe training myself to ignore these animalistic impulses will help more than giving in to this emotional nonsense. I always thought I had a better-than-average control over my impulses—well, at least until I entered this new world.

  I cast a tentative glance at his broad back, my eyes sweeping over the golden expanse of smooth, flawless skin. It’s just… a physical fascination. Magnetizing attraction that pulls me in with such force that it is absolutely impossible to deny.

  I can’t.

  I tilt my body to the side, biting my lip. I can taste the bitterness of blood.

  I can’t.

  My eyes squeeze shut as I beg myself to not sink this low. Don’t do it, Ella. Be stronger.

  But… I really want to.

  What the heck. Might as well try Plan A before sticking to Plan B.

  Before I can stop myself, my finger lashes out and brushes the top of his shoulder. There is a rustling as Nico shifts his body to face me. I could tell he wasn’t sleeping because of the quickness of his movements without any hesitation. His face is slightly contorted for some reason, from what I can make out.

  “What is it, Ella?” He whispers, and that alone is enough to set me on edge. I gape at him, my mind wiped clean as a slate. I didn’t really plan out what I was supposed to do after I finally touched him. How do I properly seduce a man? For once, I wished I had some form of experience and wasn’t an antisocial freak.

  He brushes my hair away from my face in one sweeping motion. “Do you have something you need?” My brain, as if jumpstarted by his words, kicks not only back into action, but into overdrive.

  “You,” I whisper, staring into his eyes. It is as if the logical part of my brain has taken the backseat, watching the events unfold with a mixture of amusement and horror.

  “What?” His eyes widen, and his dwindling hand jerks back into the air. I catch his hand in my own, feeling like a completely different person and scolding myself for my audacity.

  “I don’t know why,” I whisper, feeling the warmth of his hand, hoping my endeavors aren’t a little over the top. “But I want you, Nico.”

  I grabbed his shoulder and jerked myself towards him, as if afraid of his imminent answer. The first thing I capture is his lips, moving so naturally it feels like déjà vu. Why is it that I feel like this has happened before?

  I taste his lips, the salty sweet warmth spreading throughout my body in ways that are so familiar, yet so new, exciting, and intoxicating. I am drowning in the mind-numbing sensations I am feeling, greedy for more and more of this guilty pleasure. Suspended in time, I can’t help the wants from flowing, the desires from taking control over my body. There’s no stopping it now. I smile inwardly as I realize I just embarked on the pathway to my doom.

  And then he began to respond.

  His hands touch my shoulders gently, but the intensity of the kiss magnifies several times over. I can taste the tangy flavor of the blue fruit as his tongue enters my mouth, amplifying the sensations coursing through my mind and soul. I never want this moment to end. If I’m an alcoholic, this man must be the best tasting wine in the whole world. Which probably, now that we are here, isn’t saying too much.

  I admire my obnoxious ability to crack stupid jokes to myself in the middle of the most intriguing, frightening, and invigorating instant of my life.

  After what seems like only seconds, but in fact stretched much further than that, my hand subconsciously reaches out to grasp at his chest. As if I had suddenly stepped on a landmine, everything just suddenly stops.

  Aware that my lips were now touching a statue, I withdraw and look him in the eye questioningly. A fathomless expression is decorating his handsome features, his eyes cloudy. He doesn’t return my gaze, but quickly turns on his side after scooting away from me. I can sense his heavy breathing, but all I feel is confusion and the pain of his rejection.

  What just happened?

  I quietly laid my head against the knapsack, moving as slowly as possible, struck by the events that had just occurred. My eyes close, but the true darkness does nothing to ease this burning pain. I can’t think, nor can I hardly move or feel, blinded by the utter defeat I had just experienced. Not only was I absolutely humiliated, but more importantly, this sweet taste has left me starving.

  Starving for what can now be comfortably called my greatest and most pitiable weakness.

  Short Nights, Endless Days

  My eyes open quickly, and I survey my surroundings. The t-shirts from the night before are scattered across the cave, the fire only consisting of cold ashes. From what I can tell, the sky is still full of low-lying fog and heavy mist, the rain having retreated far into the horizon. I can't really see the sun, if there even is one in this world, but only the gray darkness.

  With grace that I didn't know I had, I slowly edge to my feet and pad over to the mass of clothes to my side, careful to not jerk the rope binding my ankle. Chills take hold of my body, and I shiver as the wind brushes against my neck. My clothes still feel pretty wet, though not quite as soaked as last night. I pick up my long, flowing shirt and ring it out, getting rid of the excess water, and tie it around my waist as a makeshift skirt. There is no way I am putting those soaked pants on, especially with this stupid rope to mess things up.

  Nico shifts in his sleep, scaring me as I hear the disruption in his breathing. I beg him inwardly to not wake up. Preferably, never. I don't want to have to face him ever again.

  My hands still burn from the shame of last night, and I don't want to have to think about that event, or even him. Everything is all too firmly embedded in my thoughts, displayed in crystal clear definition in my mind. I would do anything to get a delete button in my mind, to wipe these away from my brain forever. Anything to get rid of that burning kiss.

  I want to say I've forgotten it already. And maybe if I just want it enough...

  His breathing steadies, causing me to sigh in relief. The next question that comes to my mind is how to get out of my current situation. Being tied to this guy makes me sick and I can't deal with it any longer.

  I scan the room, and my gaze lands on my makeshift pillow right next to Nico's head. A lightbulb goes off in my head as I remember Nico shuffling through the knapsack last night. Surely there has to be some sort of knife or sharp object in that mystery bag of his.

  But it's so close to him, I don't know if I can get it without waking him up. Is that a risk I really want to take?

  I lean against the wall, feeling both the swirling mist and the aches in my stomach. If nothing else, I will at least get a good breakfast out of this challenge…either of the rope I'll end up chewing off or that weird fruit in his backpack.

  It is really strange how I end up losing all my newfound poise at the prospect of seeing his stupid green eyes again. Practically stumbling over to his side, I lean against the wall to avoid tripping over the rope. A sudden, intense drumming erupts in the cave, reverberating around the walls. It takes me a moment to look down and realize that the unnerving sound is coming from my own chest.

  There's no way he can't hear this thunderous, embarrassing heartbeat. I crouch down and survey his back, watching initially for his breathing and then inevitably falling into a trance over his sparkling blue hair. I don't understand how this idiot can have such glossy, shiny hair when it’s so dark in here that I can barely make out anything. We haven't even bathed yet, so how his hair doesn’t look oily is just beyond me. Speaking of bathing...

  I sniff my underarms, scrunching my nose in disgust as the slight odor is magnified through my overly sensitive nose. A good, long bath should be at the top of my to-do list.

  I almost forget why
I am even by his side, but a quick kick to the head—mentally—knocks me out of my daze. Knife. I need something sharp, and something tasty.

  Turning away from him, I get on my knees to shuffle through the knapsack. The first thing I see is a wallet, accompanied by sunglasses, disgusting socks, and a dingy blanket. A lot of junk—playing cards, pens, and a clean brush. I stare at the brush for a minute, and then take it in my hand. I might use this.

  A tiny fruit sits at the bottom of all the mess, and I snatch it greedily. I try to justify taking it to myself, blinded by hunger. It's not stealing, it's just borrowing. Without the giving back part.

  Disappointingly, I don't see anything that could possibly break these bonds. There's some nail clippers, but they look like the baby version or something. They don't look like they could cut any decently sized nails, much less ropes.

  A muffled scream escapes me as an arm swings over my shoulders, pulling me down to the floor. My legs become tangled with the ropes and Nico's legs, and I feel a pulsating warmth coming from his body. My eyes are covered by his hand, and I am tugged against his chest. I am still in a state of shock at this point.

  The terrifying sound of his breathing as it permeates my ear jerks me into high gear, and I push him away with all my strength. To my surprise, his head snaps back and his grip loosens, allowing me to crawl as far as I can manage away from him. I cast a glance at him, and am shocked to see his eyes slowly opening and blinking furiously in the process. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was just now waking up.

  "Why'd you kick me...?" He asks while rubbing his eyes, and my fears are confirmed.

  I don't answer him, focusing on the rope. Placing my hands on it, I forcefully pull it in two directions. I can see the rope start to give underneath the pressure.

  I can feel him watching me as I rip it apart while marveling at how easy it was to do so. If I had just done that earlier, I wouldn't have had to worry about getting into his knapsack.

  "Ella, what are you doing?" His voice is low, tinged with drowsiness.

  I turn away while prying my half of the rope off my foot. I don't want to talk to him. Or listen to him.

  "Ella..." I can sense him coming closer, and edge against the wall. The rope splits at my ankle, falling on the floor. At my current location in the alcove, there is no escape, no place for me to hide.

  "Ella." He repeats himself, his arms suddenly on my shoulders. All the strength is sucked out of my body as he whirls me around. "Look at me." One of his hands cups my chin and lifts it so I am forced to meet his eyes.

  As I look at him, hoping to keep calm and collected, my face grows red in a betraying manifestation of the turmoil stirring inside my body. His green eyes bore into my soul, and I imagine my appearance in response resembles a deer caught in the headlights. All I can think is that I need to get out. Get out... before I lose myself.

  "What's going on?" His hand travels from my chin to my cheek, brushing down towards my neck.

  The action reminds me of last night, and I jerk away with sudden ferocity. "Nothing," I mutter, looking at the ground. "Nothing is going on."

  He opens his mouth to speak, but I throw the fruit in my hand at his face before he can say anything. "Just stop."

  Instantly regretting the action after a brief recognition of the pain in Nico’s features, I whirl around to face the outdoors and immediately start running. My stomach roars with need, but I am unwilling to turn and retrieve the fruit. If I turn back, I could lose everything in that stare of his. I could feel that same, indescribable desire that drives me insane.

  Somehow I just know that something about him is different. Different from the rest of my harassers in this forlorn world, different from my past recollections and present emotions. It’s a hard thing for me to describe, quite honestly, because I can’t even begin to understand it myself. In this case, the word “different” must take on a myriad of implications and interpretations to reflect the chaos erupting within my own heart. I feel hatred, yet I feel an undeniable attraction. I want to slap his face and stroke his cheek. But for the other people I have encountered here…nothing fazes me.

  I think what I am so afraid of may be the intensity of my feelings. Regardless of what they are, they exist, and they are presented in a way that is near impossible to ignore. There is strange beauty in this new revelation—that I can feel, and do so strongly—but also great terror as I witness the control it holds over my body. I almost…want to be subjected to the pretty boy’s reign of terror. It gives me shivers to imagine sleeping next to him again, to see his smooth skin and irritating, perfect face. Which is exactly why I must escape, and do it quickly.

  I must keep all of this shame and emotion locked within my body, because what I truly need is strength, not weakness, in such an empty land. Weakness invites trouble, and I can’t take any more of that, especially if it comes in the form of a blue-haired werewolf.

  The biggest problem here is that it just seems like I can’t escape, no matter how hard I try.

  Large hands wrap around my waist, and I lose my balance, falling towards the rough ground. I am immediately enveloped in an embrace, the warmth spreading throughout my entire body. Everything happening in an instant, the only thing I truly notice is the sickly sweet aroma surrounding me, almost pungent in strength.

  And then it’s over, and strangely I feel none of the impact of the collision. My personal pillow, whether he or she meant to be one or not, has saved me. But he or she also provoked me to trip anyways, so I don’t feel sorry at all.

  The familiarity in my savior’s gesture reminds me of Nico, as well as the feel of his hands on the small of my back. I look up, fully expecting to see his face, but nearly jump ten feet away in the surprise that Asher is in front of me instead.

  “Wha…what…”My voice cracks and stumbles, coming out in an embarrassing stutter.

  “Nice to see you again,” he comments, a smirk on the corner of his features. “So, you survived the night with the monster?” His eyes crinkle as he laughs, twisting around as he does so. Now I am on the ground, with him on his hands and knees above me.

  “Barely,” I mutter, scrambling to my knees and away from Asher, who is casually standing up and grinning annoyingly at the same time. When he smiles like this, he almost looks like his brother…and it just makes me want to keep running.

  “Where are you going?” he asks as he sees me backing away, trying to be conspicuous but obviously not enough to fool him. “The group’s in that direction.” He points to the west, which is definitely not where I am headed.

  “Uh, I wanted to head down to the river and take a bath.” I make my excuse quickly, and his eyes narrow in response.

  “There is no river around here. There’s a pond, where the group is.” He smiles, but in a slightly more menacing way that chills me to the bone. “So why don’t you follow me over there and we can grab some food. You must be hungry.”

  My stomach grumbles, making me wince. Maybe it would be better to stick with the group, as long as I can somehow prevent myself from seeing him. If not anything else, I could still grab a bite to eat from wherever they’re getting it.

  He reaches out and grabs my arm, his grip like iron. It is then that I hear the crackling of branches and the pounding of feet. I start to squirm in Asher’s hold, fear taking hold of my heart.

  “Ella?” A frenzied call echoes throughout the forest as Nico races into the clearing, his breathing heavy and erratic. His eyes first land on me, and then slide down to our linked arms. He then surveys Asher, probably trying to put everything together. His face clouds over, and his eyes return to meet my own. I instantly look away, blushing furiously and cursing myself for doing it. “Were you…”

  “Bringing her back to camp? Yes.” Asher jumps in, supposedly saving Nico from making false assumptions. Although I don’t know why I even care if he makes them or not. “She was looking for a bath and I was trying to help her get to the pond near here.”

  “Oh�
��”Nico blushes, looking downwards and then up towards me, “so that’s why…”

  I guess this is better than nothing. It would be bothersome if he thought Asher and I were doing anything.

  I slap myself mentally and once again…wonder why I care.

  We start walking in complete silence, the awkwardness stretching between us. I don’t look at the others, staring straight ahead and trying to wipe my mind of all stupid thoughts. There are many swirling around in my head, seeking to distract me from the matter at hand.

  What now? I don’t have many options, and Asher has just eliminated the stupidest one of them. Running away is just not a possibility when my companions are so much stronger than I am. And it also seems like running doesn’t bring me farther away from my problems in this world, but only draws me closer to them.

  “Asher, why did you know where I was?” I ask him in a clipped tone, my feet crunching on the dead grass. I try to keep my voice unwavering, betraying none of the uncertainty within me. “If the camp is way over there, then…”

  “Oh, I was just trying to find some more fruit. It seems like these plants only grow near water, though, so I found nothing. Well, except for you.” Asher walks a little faster to match my pace, and I can see the amusement in his eyes as he regards the two of us. I want to change my stiff expression, for I know he is going to think that something has happened, but somehow I just can’t make myself look indifferent. “Had an argument, huh?” He asks teasingly, just as I guessed he would.

  I sneak a glance over to the side, watching Nico’s expression in response to Asher’s words. He looks confused, his face tilted in embarrassment. I feel a little guilty for a moment, and then snap out of my contemplative stupor. It seems like I’m doing that a lot around him lately, and I don’t like it.