by Jayla Kane
But he did. I knew he did. She told me enough for me to know who he was, and why she knew herself. Jake’s bestie. Good ole boy. Big. Mean. Stone-faced son-of-a-bitch.
But the way he touched me…
Anyway.
I dreamed about him. It was a year ago; I’d fooled around with a dozen other guys since then, and none of them appeared behind my closed eyelids but Hunter frickin’ Black. The way his head gently moved to the side when we kissed so we could get deeper inside of each other, the squeeze of that giant paw on my ass, so gentle at first, the way he sucked my tongue, the grunt in the back of his throat when I pressed down on the biggest cock I’d ever been near in my life, so quiet I might not have heard it if I hadn’t been horribly, painfully attuned to every single thing his body did. Those eyes.
The way they shuttered when I reared back and slapped him.
I had to—I had no choice. If I didn’t hit him I was going to fuck him, and I didn’t want it to be like that—I needed to stop it. Right then.
I taunted him; if he fucked me, well, that just proved all my theories about what a piece of shit he was, so—
But he didn’t. Not even a ripple of desire in that body after I told him who I was, what I would do. No revenge angle. Nothing. He just… Went still.
I’d seen him four times since then, always picking up his sister. I thought about it, more than once—ruining her life. She was a nerd. She hung out with the Chemistry Club and wore glasses I could tell she’d seen in some music video and bought at a discount and her teeth were a little too big for her face and she didn’t have the money for braces. She had his eyes. And she reminded me of Raven.
I went out of my way to make sure nobody fucked with her, instead.
There was no reward in it—I just made sure when one of the doofuses trying to impress me put her down I rolled my eyes and ignored them instead of giving them a little giggle about what a scandal they were, ohmygawd. I made sure they got the connection, somewhere inside of their thick, Neanderthal brains, that I didn’t like it when they were shitty about her. Or other kids like her, really. I’m not vocally anti-bully—that’d be hypocritical, given the ruthlessness it’s taken to make sure I get on to cheer squad every damn year—but I’m not in to kicking puppies.
And in her case… I just didn’t need to hurt her. It might’ve made him angry, make him take it out of Raven. And Molly just didn’t deserve it; she wasn’t the piece of shit. He was.
So I left Molly Black alone, and I finished my junior year of high school with my V card intact. I was seventeen years old, creeping up on eighteen, and I couldn’t seem to shake him out of my subconscious.
It sucked.
I stretched my arms over my head and sighed, not wanting to open my eyes. I had a paper due today that I knew I wouldn’t get a great grade on, and wasn’t looking forward to cheer practice either; I couldn’t quite seem to get a handle on one of our transitions. It was so much like a routine we’d done the year before, and I kept forgetting to turn at the right time… Maybe Zelle would drop me off early and I could get down to the gym and practice. I forced my eyes open and blinked, wondering for a second if I was still asleep.
The room looked… Weird.
Definitely weird—it was dark and it smelled strange too… Like straw? What the hell?
I sat up and stared around me, feeling, for the first time, the damp cling of earthy mustiness—the kind of moisture you only sense in the air if you’re far underground. I threw off the sheet that covered me and looked down; I was still wearing the same clothes I had last night. My favorite pajamas, actually, a velvet peach camisole set that Raven bought me for Valentine’s last year when my shitty boy-friend broke up with me three days before. Charlie helped her pick it out; Zelle said I was dumb for having a boy-friend in the first place and snuck me a hot toddy, which helped almost as much as the pajamas. I glanced around at the bed, the floor, the toilet crowded into the corner… And then I saw him.
Hunter Black was leaning against the wall, watching me. I thought I must still be dreaming for a moment—the feel of his mouth on mine was so intense, so recent seeming… But I was sure I was awake. This was a nightmare, alright, but not the kind you had when you’re asleep.
I screamed.
I screamed the way they tell you to in all the Attack Your Attacker classes, in the clips on YouTube my big sisters made me watch, in the articles on campus safety laying around our house now that Raven was in college. I screamed so loud I hurt my own ears, the ringing of it shattering the whole room like lightning turned into sound, screamed until I was hoarse.
When I stopped, Hunter was standing there, no longer leaning on the wall, his face grim. His dark eyes darted towards the door, and that’s when I noticed it—it looked like a goddamn prop from a staging of Shakespeare or something. Like an old fashioned dungeon. Just a huge, ridiculously heavy wooden door with iron rungs and bearings and a tiny window at the very top that you could only open from the outside, a little iron flap hanging over the barred opening. I wouldn’t even be able to see out of it if I stood on my tippy toes.
Was he locked in here with me?
Why?
“What the hell are you doing here?”
He didn’t say anything, which didn’t surprise me in the slightest; I’m pretty sure in the entire time we were in each other’s presence, he spoke less than one hundred words combined. He was good at communicating with his body, though, and he faced me and crossed his arms, his face going blank in that way he had. I’m sure that shit worked wonders on someone who’d never tasted his tongue, but I had, and I wasn’t fooled. “Hunter. What the hell is going on?”
Still nothing.
I stalked over to the cell door and slammed my hand against it, again and again—bang bang bang bang bang—until I heard something outside. Not much, just enough to tell me there was something on the other side. I hit the door harder, over and over, hoping like hell this was some kind of prank. Was Jake behind this somehow? This seemed a little doomsday even for him. I banged on the door until my hand started to swell, and then spun towards the big man who was now leaning against the wall and marched over to him.
“What is this? Your rape dungeon? You some kind of serial killer?” I knew that would hurt him. One of the only things I knew about him for sure was that he didn’t disrespect women like that. He just watched me, his eyes little more than a gleam smeared across a shadow in the darkness. I couldn’t tell what time it was; the only light in here came from the lamp flickering on the wall, and even though my body was pretty used to waking up around six I always slept later than I meant to when I dreamed about Hunter. “They’re going to know I’m missing any minute now,” I snarled at him, “and then, they’re going to go through my things, and then, they’re going to find those pictures of me that show how I survived an attack by big, bad Hunter Black.” I stared at him. “And then what’s going to happen Hunter, huh? You’re going to get locked up—no question. Or maybe your dad will. And Molly? What do you think is going to happen to her?”
He didn’t even blink. Just stared down at me, and the only reason I could tell his eyes were on mine was the unsettling reflection of the light, unmoving, in the center of each black eye.
I spun on my heel and went back to slamming on the cell door.
Chapter Eight
Hunter
It broke my fucking heart to watch her.
I couldn’t help but think of Molly—even before she mentioned her, when she first woke up and didn’t know where she was, my little sister flashed in front of me. And as shit as it was, I was glad that I’d done this, because if I hadn’t it probably would’ve been Molly in this room, locked inside and screaming her damn head off. But I wouldn’t have been with her to make sure that whatever came through that door couldn’t hurt her.
Well, more than she already was. This wasn’t something that would ever leave Artemis Keller alone; she’d have nightmares for the rest of her life. Probably never be able to
sleep a full eight hours again—she might never be able to go back home and sleep in that room. Things like that happened once somebody did something like this to you.
And now, the monster that had snatched her out of her bed like the goddamn boogeyman was the only thing protecting her from the Society. I had trouble wrapping my head around the evil of it all.
I’m too simple for this shit, I thought. I needed Jake—I needed his mind, the way he could work out a bargain with the other monsters when he needed to, the way he could always sniff out what they wanted. What they really wanted.
Because I was beginning to wonder if I was just a means to an end; I’d been under-estimated, I guessed, because the Society made the same assumptions about me that everybody else did: big, stupid redneck. Mean as hell and dumber than a rock. So if you wanted a big, mean redneck to kidnap a beautiful girl… What did you need him for afterwards?
Probably not much. You obviously wanted an easy scapegoat, and the beautiful girl.
I had no illusions about whether or not the Society expected me to stay with her. They didn’t know the extent of our… Interactions. They probably thought: big dumb rednecks like pretty girls; this big dumb redneck hates this girl’s sister. Sic ‘em. They didn’t know where I was right now. They probably thought I’d run right back to check on Molly.
I had to find a way out of this mess.
I wasn’t surprised by her stamina. Baby wailed on that door for at least forty-five minutes, probably closer to an hour; my phone didn’t work down here, and I suspected no technology would. We were somewhere underground, and there was too much magic in the air. Something in my body could feel it, as if the walls were vibrating at a low frequency and starting to pick up speed. Just a little bit. Just barely. Listening to a panicking girl bang on a closed door will also jangle the nerves a bit.
I wish I told Jake. I wish I had. It would’ve made everything so much easier—so much simpler. But he’d been a wreck for the last two weeks; even if I’d wanted to confide in him that I was coming apart at the seams because apparently I was fucking magic now, I couldn’t imagine how I’d form the words and force them past my lips. I couldn’t imagine what the sentence would be. Would I show him the scars covering me, the places where I’d lacerated my own skin in the middle of the night? Would I jump in front of him and hope it didn’t give him a goddamn heart attack?
Fuck. I should’ve risked it. Should’ve trusted him, should’ve tried. Jake didn’t keep secrets from me, not real ones. I should’ve tried to do the same. Saved myself, maybe… But more than anything, I should’ve saved Baby. I should’ve known the Society wouldn’t have wanted me to begin with, that I wasn’t what they were after, that in the end it would be worse than I could even imagine. The world found new ways to fail my imagination all the time; this wasn’t any different. Except that in this case, the most beautiful girl in the entire world was locked in a box like a princess in a fairy tale, and there was no prince coming to save her.
There was just me. The Wolf.
She didn’t give up on the door, and she didn’t give me another glance. I didn’t understand how she felt so unthreatened by me—she knew, intimately, what my body was like, how much bigger and stronger I was than her. She didn’t know I might grow claws at any fucking moment and tear us both to shreds; I’d never been able to pull them out at will, which bothered me a hell of a lot, because I’d never be able to make them disappear, either, when the time came. It took far too long last night. Watching her, I made sure to take slow, deep breaths, to try and tune out the ringing in my head. I didn’t want there to be any chance that my powers might make this more frightening for her.
I wouldn’t hurt her.
I didn’t know how I knew, but I could no more hurt her than I could hurt Molly. I… It made no fucking sense, but I cared about her way more than I should’ve.
I liked her, I guess. I liked her loyalty to her sister, her ruthlessness dressed up in cleverness—the same combination I admired so much in Jake. I wasn’t ruthless; that takes the same kind of fuel as anger, it requires passion and belief that the world can change, that you can force it to. But I don’t. I’m not clever, either. Not in any kind of useful way—not in a way that could save us from these circumstances…
But Baby was, I realized.
It was too late; I’d never be on her team. She had the right to hate me until the end of time. Hell, I hated myself. But maybe…
“Miss,” I said, and she ignored me. Predictable. “Miss.” I sharpened my voice, spoke to her like I would a dog, and she whirled around to stare at me with a vicious glare.
“What?”
“They’ll come when they come. You can’t hurry them.”
“Can you get us out of here?”
“Not in the way you mean,” I said bluntly. At least she was listening to me. Where the hell to start? I swallowed, trying to find the words. “The people who asked me to take you—”
“You? You did this to me?”
“I—”
“I was praying I was wrong, that you might’ve been stuck in here with me for some reason, but you? You’re the one?”
“Yes.” I held still as she came closer, waiting for her rage to crest, and then ebb. Sure enough, she hauled off and aimed another blow for my head; I caught her hand, then let her go. She tried again three more times, and I made myself treat it like a training exercise, deep breaths, steady, don’t lose focus, never get distracted. I couldn’t afford to let her drive me over the edge into anger. I’d never forgive myself if I hurt her by accident.
It took five failures for her to rear back a step and try to kick me; when I caught her foot this time, I held it aloft and pushed, once, hard enough so that she sprawled on her ass on the floor. “Goddamnit!” She popped back up and came at me with everything she had. That was good; sometimes you have to blow off a lot of steam before you can listen. I got it. And she wasn’t hurting me at all, though I wouldn’t mention that. She got one in, a quick jab that glanced off my cheek, and I had to catch myself from giving her some advice so she wouldn’t hurt her hand. But at least I was keeping my cool: no claws. No jumping.
She could tell she wasn’t causing the damage she wanted to, and it took another five minutes for her to burn herself out. Finally. After an hour of beating on the door non-stop and half an hour of beating on me.
No tears, though. Not from Artemis Keller.
“What the fuck is this?” She snarled the words in a voice I remembered well. Venom and hate.
“It’s some kind of cell at the bottom of Thorn Tower in the Institute,” I told her, resolving myself to honesty. If I wanted her brain to find a way out of this, I had to give her all the information I had—which was next to nothing.
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head. She watched me for a second, those eyes lit like a fire from within, and crossed her arms over her still-heaving chest.
“You know nothing about why you kidnapped me in the middle of the night?”
“I… There’s a group called the Society.” Recognition clicked behind her eyes. “They’re… They’re able to do things. Strange things. And…” Fuck. This was shit. I couldn’t remember the last time I wished someone liked me. Just a little bit. Just enough, maybe, not to hate me. And I had no particular reason to gravitate towards Artemis Keller—besides her beauty, and the other traits I found so memorable—and plenty to try and shut her down and out of my mind. But things were already ruined between us—had been before that fateful day, matter of fact—so there was no reason at all to feel this little rip in my heart, like a thorn caught in the skin, a ragged splinter. “I was given a choice between bringing you here and saving my sister.”
“So you screwed me.” I said nothing. Her eyes sharpened, raking across my face. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you’re smart,” I told her. Figured it was best to go with the truth. “I couldn’t see a way out.”
“And y
ou think I will? With this completely ridiculous, tiny bit of information you’ve given me?”
“I hoped so.”
“You big, stupid…” She let the words trail away, her face furious as she glared up at me. “How did you even get involved with these people?”
“Does that matter?”
“It does to me,” she snapped. “It all matters to me. I notice you seem rather calm about this situation—does that mean you’re not a captive too?”
“Well, I can leave this cell,” I told her, “but… I’m not sure I’d exactly call myself free.”
“So no. You’re not.” Her bright eyes flashed just before she flew at me again, and this time I just held her fast against my chest, wrapping her up and holding her there while she panted. We stared at each other… And it was painful. It reminded me far too fucking much of the last time our faces were this close, and that place in my chest where she’d sunk a hook into my heart twisted like a shark was on the goddamn line. She wrenched herself away from me and I let her go, only realizing after she was a few feet away again that I’d been holding my breath the entire time I held her close.
She was so beautiful—and not just the shape of her, the perfect, sultry roundness of her above and below, the long, slender legs like a golden fawn’s. Not just the way her eyes lit like kindling from within, the way her face was shaped like the heart she didn’t seem to have, the sweep of black hair that fell down her back. That was so easy to see. It was harder to see the steel. The absolute fearlessness. Those eyes were amber, the kiss of flame sealed inside, because her whole being was made of fire. She was just waiting to explode.
A force of nature to be weathered, to be worshipped like a god of old.
“Tell me everything,” she snarled at me, and it almost seemed ironic that I was the one with claws; maybe she would grow fangs, if they made her sign the book.
I tried to explain without sounding insane, but it didn’t work. She didn’t laugh at me, at least; her mother had been filling her head with this kind of crap since she was born, probably, although it took me a minute to remember what their family was like. Most of what I knew about the Kellers, I knew because of Jake. I don’t live in Ashwood proper, even though the garage is there, and went to a different elementary school than the girls. We were in the same middle school, but I was busy fighting my own battles at the time; I remember hearing tell of the Creepy Kellers here and there, but I didn’t give any credence to that kind of shit. People judged me by the way I looked, too, and even though they were right about a lot of it, some things—the things that mattered the most—they usually got wrong.
