by Aila Cline
I showered and dozed off in the king-sized bed, too tired to even dress. Let Will take me when he gets back, I thought drowsily. At least he would hold me afterwards, and for that, I would suffer through most anything.
I awoke to the lamp clicking on beside the bed.
“Will!” I exclaimed. “Trying to sleep here? Yeah?”
“Not anymore.”
I flew to the other side of the bed at that voice, pulling the comforter on the bed up over my body. That was not my Will speaking; a man unknown to me stood there. But his eyes gave him away—bright blue and radiant with lust. Not Raníer. This man was young and strapping, just as huge and just as dark as Luka. But Luka had no brothers. He had to be of that clan though. That much I knew from my limited knowledge of werewolves.
“Get out,” I demanded roughly.
He smiled, a debonair smile that would have won any number of hearts from girls my age. I wanted to break his teeth. That’s how angry I was at this intrusion without Will here. Unfortunately, this was a hotel room, not an army locker, and I was ill-equipped to tackle this stranger.
The man threw a red flannel nightgown with long sleeves at me. It floated through the air like a red wraith and landed on the bed.
“Who the hell do you think I am?” I snapped. “Little Red Riding Hood?” The day had left me exhausted and I had no desire to look like a dowdy holiday fruitcake at the end of it, or be gawked at by this man in said fruitcake mould.
“My uncle thought it would be amusing for you to know how it feels to be pursued by wolves and wanted you dressed appropriately. And actually Mistress Red,” he replied with a wicked chuckle, “with your prudish attitude and the somber cut of that gown you’ll soon be wearing, you’re more likely to be mistaken for the grandmother.”
He moved closer to me as he spoke, staring unabashedly at my body’s curves through the soft fold of the comforter. I hugged my arms around my breasts to tighten the cloth, but his gaze just kept working its way down my body. I must have looked ridiculous with the bed cover draped over me, and my face flushed with anger.
“Don’t look at me. Get out.”
He did not respond to me or even seem bothered by the attempted veiling of my body. Instead of complying with my demand, he circled around to the back of me, so close that I could feel his chest bump my shoulder blades every time he exhaled breath over the skin of my neck. I was boxed in by the bed and the wall and tangled in the covers. I could barely move. He pulled my damp hair back over a shoulder and leaned his face in closer.
“At least in this tale the wolf always has the same part,” he said, his lips brushing the curve of my neck.
A shiver ran down my body, damping the heat of anger. Underneath my own protective grasp, I could feel my nipples harden involuntarily. I wanted to scream, but no one would hear me. Run, but to where? Oh God, Will where are you? I kept asking myself.
A woodcutter’s cottage can be a prison if there’s only one exit.
My stomach flipped as he pressed his body against mine. His chest wasn’t the only thing that was hard.
“Don’t,” I whispered.
In yoga they teach you how to block out thoughts; maybe I could block him out. I breathed deeply but all this action served was to make me light headed.
He finally put his hands on me, but my body did not react the way I thought it would. Running his hands up the curve of my hips and up my back, they stopped at my neck. The right hand came back down and slid around to rest on my hip, while the left snaked up the back of my neck. His fingers molded themselves around my neck before he made a fist with them entwined with my hair, tugging a little. Needles shot straight into my groin that caused an instant wet reaction. Will had conditioned my body to crave the brutality, now this man was getting the reaction that had been trained into me.
With his lips feathery on my throat and his body pressed against mine, he growled, “Have you ever wondered what it’s like to be eaten by the big, bad wolf?”
His right hand found my own that covered my lower lips like a poorly-guarded secret. He squeezed then forced his fingers behind my hand, lightly stroking my clit. His fingers moved in circles, and I involuntarily groaned. My body was going to react in a way not of my choosing. More of his rotating fingers had my head tossing against his broad chest. Suddenly, he bit down into the soft flesh of my shoulder as he pulled his hand away, making me gasp as if I had broken the surface after swimming underwater.
He chuckled again, punctuated this time with a low echo of his sarcastic laugh. “Oh, Mistress Red, I see you have thought about being eaten by the wolf. What has that untrained boy been doing to you?”
My eyes flew open. The heat rushed up through me, but anger became fixation as I noticed he had backed away from me and already stripped off his shirt. The leanness of his body demanded my eye’s appreciation, though I longed to close my eyes and hate him—body and soul. This body betrayed me though, and my eyes devoured his chest covered with a dusting of coppery-colored hair and the muscles were a rock-hard masterpiece. My gaze stopped at the top of his jeans, where his thumbs lightly rested in the belt loops. I swallowed heavily and slowly blew out the breath I had been holding while studying him. Biting my lips and licking them in anticipation like a whore, I said the only thing they had taught me to say in hundreds of life lessons:
“No.”
My breath came out harshly, the word broken and clipped. He laughed.
“If I recall correctly, the old stories do not find Mistress Red as the decider of her fate.”
I wanted to curse him, spit at him, bite him—but my eyes followed those long, graceful fingers that had begun to unbutton his pants. First jeans, then boxers hit the floor. His body seemed to swell before my eyes.
I shrunk back and repeated, “No.”
He walked slowly towards me, body taut with toned muscles as sleek as stones wrapped in silk.
“Try and stop me, Red. Besides, you did not even say thank you for Raníer’s gift.”
He retrieved the flannel nightgown from its spot on the bed. I backed away as he came on, determined that this time I would resist with more than crying and begging. A hand snaked out before I was ready for his quickness, and he had me by the arm. I thrashed about, trying to squirm away from him as he pushed me up against the wall, escape routes blocked by his body. His blue eyes reminded me of Luka’s and I wanted to shut my eyes to disassociate this monster with my friend. I pushed hard at him, but he laughed at my inability to fend him off and suddenly flipped me. My face hit the wall hard, but I didn’t cry out. I breathed hard as he crushed me against the drywall. As if he had been doing it all his life, he deftly tied my hands together with the material. I wriggled, testing his job, and found the bindings pulled much too tight.
“They hurt,” I said pitifully.
“No one said being eaten would be painless,” he murmured into my hair. His cock jumped up and down at the small of my back. He turned me facing him. “Down,” he said, pointing to the ground.
I dropped to my knees. I didn’t beg, or scream, or cry. No one would help me. Yes, it was going to hurt, but he wouldn’t kill me. He wanted me and alive to punish Will. There was nothing in my power at the moment to stop it. I knew that Raníer had sent him, and anger surged up in me for trusting the kindly old man.
“Put your head on the floor, ass in the air,” he commanded, excitement adding to the forcefulness of his tone.
Of course I obeyed, finally closing my eyes once again. The floor felt cool against my heated, panting body.
He moved behind me. Rough hands found the inside of my thighs and squeezed, massaging them as they worked towards the core of me. He leaned into me and I felt his breath hot on my labia, just as it had breezed over my neck only a few moments ago. The waves of need that frolicked up and down me were the same also. A long tongue suddenly found my clit and flicked at it a few times. I gasped and bucked against his mouth, pulling my bonds tighter. My face burned as it rubbed back and forth
against unsympathetic carpet, and my shoulders cried out for relief.
With a mouth almost completely inside me, he murmured, “Oh yes, Red. Perfect.”
My shoulder muscles pulled and burned. Tears pricked my eyes at the pain. My body was going to rip in two—either at the hips where he was grabbing while he tasted me or at my shoulders that suffered with each movement, stretched tight and hot.
Tears begin to pool on the floor. I finally moaned and croaked, “Oh, just fuck me already. Please.”
His tongue stopped suddenly, as if my words had just reminded him that it was indeed time. He raised up behind me and wordlessly pushed that huge, swollen thing that defined him into me. I cried out again and again as the rocking of his fucking caused the flannel to scrape my wrists raw and threatened to tear the muscles from my body.
Just short of coming, he stopped. I thought maybe Will had come in, but no, the man had a different idea of what he wanted from me. He turned me to face him again without regard to my suffering shoulder muscles, those blue eyes dancing with excitement as they savagely drank in my body.
“I must admit that the Changeling has good taste,” he said, tweaking my nipple. “Too bad he won’t want you after this. And those pretty brown eyes will never get to see light again.” He winked at me and reached under the bed to pull out a serrated blade as long as my arm—the knife had been there all along. Someone had planned this before tonight!
This time I did scream and got backhanded for my efforts. Rape was one thing…murder another. I could live through rape and live for revenge. I would be useless dead. Never to see those green eyes or those blue eyes again, although I had a feeling that after this, Luka’s eyes would never hold the same appeal for me.
“How do you feel about vampires?” he asked with a heavy emphasis on the last word while rubbing his hardness against my thigh and practically humping me with it.
My mind tumbled down. I became hysterical, crying and screaming. Shasta. Shasta. ShastaLukaShasta. Shasta. Shasta. He finally gagged me, sick of hearing me whimper nonsense.
“Oh, I know all about Shasta,” he whispered as if we were lovers instead of abuser and victim. “Who do you think gave Brooke the poison to lace Luka’s blade and make damn sure the girl was dead before he tried to Change her?”
I screamed against the wash cloth shoved in my mouth, more for knowing that the source of Luka’s pain towered over me and I could do nothing about it than for my own situation!
He smiled widely. “Yes, a sad story indeed, but we do not want humans polluting our blood. Better for her to be a vampire and untouchable by Luka than an outcast in our family. You are no different. I think Will’s mother feels the same way after her horrible experiences with those Lycanti vira-lata, but I am not sure. She may want me to do this to you just because she loved Anya like a daughter and respects Raníer. She is an honorable woman.” He grinned. “Either way, it appears we will have to…what is the word in your language?... experiment …and find out.”
The blade traveled down to my arms and he teased me with it. I must admit, at this point, my mind had cracked, I think. When he cut the veins in my wrists, I thought I could see ants crawling out of them. When he started licking the blood, I could not help but think that people got AIDS that way. And when I blacked out, it was a joy not to be thinking at all.
Will
Oh God. How could I leave you? I shouldn’t have left you. Even with my mother’s blessing the Council decided against you, saying I should bind myself to a Lycanthrope master to tame my impetuous nature. And that was before I came into the hotel room to that unforgettable scene—imagine how they feel about my murderous attitude towards them now!
I thought I wouldn’t save you. He had started the process by slashing your wrists, but thank God he’d never Changed someone before. He didn’t know to wait for the heartbeat to start fluttering before healing you and exchanging the fluids. Was he trying to turn you into a vampire by leaving it off so late? He seemed more intent on fucking you as you slipped away, even if he had to do it while your body turned cold. Fucking bastard.
I wish you would tell me the things he said to you. I know he hurt you, Emily, but he’s dead now. He will never hurt you again. No one will ever make you cry again, especially not now. I didn’t think my blood would be strong enough to do it, but somehow—maybe because Alec started the process, it succeeded. I don’t like the idea that some of him is in you forever, part of you now, but I cannot change that, and I could not hold that against you. I almost thought I didn’t have you in time. I thought…I thought you would be another Shasta.
But you’re okay. We’re okay.
When you opened those newborn green eyes to look at me for the first time with the same hunger for me that I feel for you, it might have been the most breathtaking moment in my life—except for the four hours of fucking you gifted me afterwards. Knowing that my blood prevailed over his for the pivotal moment of Change was beautiful. You would have looked ravishing with blue eyes, but that lovely jade hue brings your entire face alive.
Even watching you Change for the first time was like watching a sunrise after a long night. I knew you were hurting, but you made it through without losing your mind. You are so strong. I knew you would be. At least there is justice that you claimed Alec as your first meal.
Oh, Emily, you are perfect now. You are Changed. And you are mine.
Forever.
Emily
Everything is painfully vivid now. Colors are sharper. Smells crowd my nose, and noises invade my ears until I feel like I will go mad with all the insignificant minutiae of sounds that plague this world. But then Will and I would run through the paths of the woods, unafraid of anything as humans or as wolves during the full moon, and the breeze tastes delicious. The arid night rasps against my skin, making me shiver, making me hungry for flesh—and for Will.
We were at each other constantly. I couldn’t seem to get enough of him. I woke in the morning desperate to touch him, to have him hold me. At night we would slide into bed and listen to each other breathe for a few moments before he reached over to stroke me to elicit my ardent response.
We received a notice from the Council on fancy hand-made paper. We are banned from any contact with the Brazilian clans for our parts in Alec and Anya’s deaths and for violating their decree that I stay human. If we are found on anywhere in South America, we will be mercilessly hunted and killed by Raníer’s family. The Mexican clans did not care one way or the other. If they did, we heard nothing from them.
“Damn,” I said with a sarcastic, wolfish bite. “I had so hoped to sit on Uncle Raníer’s lap for Christmas this year.”
Will gave me a stern look, but I knew that he didn’t care.
For now, he was just happy that he could share his world with me.
Other than the craving for raw meat that a haunch of a deer just would not quench, the only thing that bothered me was the unpredictability of my condition. One day Will kicked my ass on Super Mario Kart. What did I do? Nothing rational, for sure. I got angry and threw the controller down, storming off. Before I had made it to the kitchen, I had Changed. But I couldn’t keep my temper steady enough to function some days. I was so volatile one day that we had to cancel a movie we had talked of seeing all week.
“It’s just something we learn to deal with,” Will told me after a barrage of complaints.
So yes, the first month turned out to be bliss with just a few bumps, far less scary than I imagined it. Some days I felt not so in control of my mind or my body, but then again, I love that feeling of letting go and allowing my body decide what is best for me. It was the only time I feel truly free.
It pained both of us that Luka refused to share these experiences with us. Though he still hunted with Will every week, their Slayer activities were the only contact that existed between them. Will would not speak of it. We would snipe over calling him until Will stormed off and I sulked in the kitchen. Luka no longer came to the house for long
stretches of comfortable banter, movies or dinner. And though Will loved me, he loved Luka, too. I knew this. I also knew that I was the cause of their rift, but Luka stayed away because he felt something for me, not because he felt nothing for Will.
And suddenly I was determined to fix the situation. If all three of us could be happy again, then mending the tear through the sacrifice of my own dignity was definitely worth it. I would admit to Will that I had offered myself to Luka in the rush of the moment to see him happy, and hopefully he would understand.
But first, I had to see Luka and strengthen his resolve.
The wind blew hard at me as I jogged to Luka’s house. A little over four miles, but the run would do me good. Will had been teaching me to control the bow that he and Luka use, and how to hunt as part of a pack and how to track, but now I was alone. I smelled none of the Lycanti—they had given up on Will since my Change.
The night air and my burning lungs liberated me in a way that Will’s body could not. His body chained me to my own, forcing me to swallow down my passions and let them sizzle and smolder inside of me until he brought them up. In the wind, I exerted my own heat. I had control of my own liberation.
As I arrived, I scented the air for Luka’s warm, tangy smell that I had picked up from the clothes Will borrowed. Will was not nearly so spicy; he had a more earthy fragrance to him. Luka’s scent called to me in my dreams, making me want to take a bite out of him. Will and I were Bonded yet, so I could still lust, and lust I did in that first month. Luckily, the sensation of Will barraging my senses at all times, making me hunger for only him physically, eased my emotion need of Luka’s friendship.
But that cinnamon taste at the back of my throat made me hot, making me think he was right beside me. I knew that Luka could probably smell me by now. I wondered how he would react.
