Taken by the Beast

by Natasha Knight

  “I have a question that I can’t figure out. Why me, Elijah? I don’t understand. Why did you decide to kill to protect me? I mean, why do you care?” she asked, taking another bite.

  He carved out more meat for himself, seeming ravenous, taking his time to answer.

  “I don’t know,” he began. “Ever since that day I met you, do you remember when that man bumped into you and dropped your things?”

  “I remember.”

  “I’ve just felt the need to take care of you, I guess.”

  “And that’s it? You just saw me one day when some asshole knocked my things out of my hands and you decided that you’d kill to take care of me?” She put her fork down and sipped her water. “That sounds a little strange, to be honest.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe it’s a wolf thing.”

  It was her turn to study him. There was a piece missing, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

  “And I’m serious about the swearing. I’ve let you go on it so far, but the next time, I’ll spank you.”

  “I’ll see what I can do about it,” she said, not sure if she meant she’d try to get spanked or try to avoid it. “So we go into town tomorrow?” she asked.

  “You do realize it’s not a vacation, right?”

  Danger seemed a distant memory; she felt safe here, safe with him.

  “And no, you will stay here while I go into town. I don’t want to take a chance on people recognizing us, especially if they see us together.”

  “How long are we staying here?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll find out more tomorrow, hopefully. Are you finished?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I’m full.”

  He eyed her plate. “You need to eat more,” he said. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded.

  He reached over, forked the pieces she hadn’t eaten, and popped them into his mouth.

  “Let’s clean up and get to bed.”

  “Are you going to tie me up when you go tomorrow?”

  “I haven’t decided.”

  “I’d really like it if you wouldn’t. I promise I won’t go anywhere and I’ve been good.”

  “For a few hours.”

  “And I’ll be good for the next few hours.”

  “While you’re sleeping?”

  She shrugged a shoulder, smiling. “Sure.”

  He smiled back. “We’ll see. You do the dishes.”

  “Ugh,” she said, standing to help clear the table.

  When she was finished, she noticed he’d taken a pillow and some blankets to the couch.

  “You get the bed,” he said. “I’ll take the couch.”

  “OK,” she said. “Goodnight, then.” She couldn’t help feeling disappointed as she made her way into the bedroom alone.

  * * *

  She was running barefoot through the woods, dressed once again in her worn yoga pants and tank top. It was nighttime, but the forest wasn’t quiet. Her feet hurt as they crunched on dead leaves, pine needles, twigs, and rocks. Clouds covered the moon, but when the wind moved them, she could make out the shiny eyes of the dogs behind her. It was like a movie, the men gripping the leashes of the crazed animals, hunting her.

  She panted, exhausted, each breath drawing in the scent of death, of fire, of burning flesh. But it wasn’t only that. It was also the scent of blood. She couldn’t make out whether she was running toward or from the women’s screams and she swore she could hear the sound of tearing flesh.

  She stumbled then, and fell to her hands and knees. A sharp cut had split the bottom of her foot and the forest floor sucked in the seeping blood. Standing was impossible, but she had to go on.

  They came on her then, the dogs, the hunters. One held a rifle aimed at her chest. She anticipated the impact, and when he pulled the trigger she closed her eyes, waiting for it. But it wasn’t she who got shot. It was Elijah. She looked at him as he lay dying. Even in wolf form, his golden eyes were tender, human.

  “Take the girl,” one of the men said.

  Hands closed over her arms and lifted her, dragging her from him. She looked down, at herself, at her swollen belly and when she turned to him again, he lay still, his eyes closed. The thing inside her moved, shifted, grew. Warmth spilled down her legs and the men released her. She screamed when the first wave came on, pain splitting her in two as the beast inside her tore its way into the world.

  * * *

  “Kayla! Open your eyes, Kayla. Look at me. You’re safe, it was just a dream.”

  Her hands were fisted on his chest, sweat and tears smearing her face and body. She screamed once more and he held her tighter, shaking her once.

  “Shhh. You’re having a nightmare. Open your eyes, Kayla.”

  He forced her to look at him, holding her, soothing her until she calmed.

  “What did you dream?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I don’t remember,” she said.

  He knew it was a lie.

  “Stay with me,” she said.

  He lay her back down and tucked himself around her, holding her fast. He watched her until her breathing was once again even and she slept. He didn’t let go of her, but didn’t close his eyes again that night.

  Chapter Nine

  He didn’t go into town the next day and he didn’t leave her alone for the next week-and-a-half. Kayla was grateful, finding herself more rattled from the dream than she should be. It was just too real, too terrifying. The thought of Elijah dead scared her like nothing in her life ever had, and she hadn’t even begun to deal with the other part of the nightmare.

  “We’re out of supplies. I have to go into town today,” he said one morning.

  “I will come with you,” she replied, picking up the last dish in the sink. There wasn’t a dishwasher so she was hand-washing the dishes, something she would never grow accustomed to.

  “Can’t take a chance, Kayla. We’re safe here and I don’t want to go on the run with you.”

  “I’ll stay in the car. No one will recognize us; it’s been more than a week since we were on TV.”

  “I’m sorry, but no,” he said, pulling on a jacket. “I’ll give you the key and you can lock up after me. I’ll only be three, four hours max.”

  “You won’t bind me?”

  “I trust you,” he said. “Just stay in the house and I’ll be back before you know it.”

  * * *

  Kayla locked the door and turned to look around the cabin. It was already lonely without him and he’d been gone all of one minute. Three to four hours. She walked to the kitchen and put the kettle on. It was a nice spring day. Although it was cooler up in the mountains, the sun shone bright. She picked up a book and sat by the window. When the kettle whistled, she made a pot of tea and resumed her position, sipping the hot liquid while gazing out into the sunshine, liking the warmth of it on her face.

  She passed an hour-and-a-half like this, but soon found herself checking her watch every ten minutes. She went into the bedroom, gathered the laundry that needed to be done, and filled the sink. Hand-washing clothes was worse than hand-washing dishes. She hung the clothes on the line Elijah had drawn over the tub and went back into the living room to resume her seat by the window.

  “This is stupid,” she said, standing. She gathered the laundry she’d just hung in the bathroom, unlocked the door, and stepped outside. He was overly cautious. There was no reason for her not to be able to enjoy the spring day. And hang the clothes outside to dry under the sun. She hung the laundry on the branches of a nearby tree, grabbed one of the extra throws from the couch and laid it out on the ground. She then lay on it and closed her eyes, never intending to fall asleep.

  * * *

  A branch broke underfoot, but Kayla barely registered it, or the sound of voices that approached. She woke because of the cold, disoriented.

  The sun was on its way down, casting long shadows. She checked her watch; it had been more than four hours. Worried, she quickly collected the
laundry and was on her way inside when she saw them.

  “You the girl from the pictures?” one of the men asked. He was sitting on a rock at the side of the cabin, a can of beer in his hand, another one on its side on the floor.

  She was frozen in place, her eyes wide. There were two of them, hunters from their dress and the rifles they carried.

  “Kayla, right?” the other one asked.

  She could almost feel the energy rolling off of them and it was a scary energy. “You’re mistaken and my husband will be here soon,” she said, hoping Elijah would return soon; they stood between her and the entrance of the house.

  “But he ain’t here now,” one of the men grinned, stumbling a little when he moved toward her.

  Instinct took over. Kayla turned and ran, clutching the laundry to herself. They came after her, but she kept running, her bare feet cutting into rock and pine and earth. She stumbled, spilling the laundry from her hands, but managed to rise again and run. They weren’t far behind and she wasn’t sure if they were playing with her because they were laughing, as if enjoying the chase.

  She wasn’t much farther when one of the men apparently had enough. He shot his rifle into the air. She screamed and stumbled, and this time, she didn’t get up, because when she turned behind her, it was to watch a scene as terrifying as that from her apartment.

  Elijah was back. She watched as he knocked one of the hunters down, with a growl so loud it sliced through the forest and she was sure it would be heard for miles around. The other man screamed, then had the sense to turn and run, but he didn’t get far. Once the wolf was through with the first man, he took a moment to look at her, and the expression in his eyes had her trembling from her core. It was fury, but also something else, something close to terror.

  He went after the other hunter. It was a few moments, but she soon heard the man scream. It was silenced swiftly and she knew Elijah had killed him too. And it was her fault.

  When he returned to her, he was in wolf form. She wasn’t expecting that, nor was she expecting him to stalk close to her, so close that his breath was hot on her face. She forced herself not to pull away when he nuzzled the top of his head against her cheek, blood from his face smearing onto hers. The blood of the hunters.

  * * *

  Elijah shifted. “Are you all right?” he asked, taking her into his arms, looking her over.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head.

  He hugged her to him, relieved. “What happened?”

  “It was my fault,” she said, holding onto him, wiping the blood from his face. “You were gone so long and it was so nice out.” He knew she’d seen his expression change. She’d broken his rule and had placed herself in danger. “I hung the laundry outside and then closed my eyes for a few minutes. I must have fallen asleep.”

  He battled the anger rising inside him.

  “When I woke up, they were there watching me. Waiting for me. They asked if I was the girl from the TV. I ran and then you came. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  He studied her.

  “Do you have any idea what could have happened if I hadn’t gotten here on time?”

  She nodded, crying some more.

  “I smell blood, Kayla. Yours. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

  “It’s just my foot. I cut it,” she said.

  He lifted her into his arms.

  “The laundry,” she said.

  “I will take care of it and the mess later. First, I have to take care of you.”

  Taking her into the house, he cleaned, then bandaged her foot, using the new supplies he’d bought, glad to have them now.

  “You disobeyed me, Kayla.”

  “I know, I’m sorry,” she said. “I know you’re going to punish me.” She trembled.

  “Do you deserve to be punished?” he asked.

  She nodded. “It’s my fault you had to kill them. And if you hadn’t come in time, they…I…” She reached for him and he held her to his chest until the crying fit passed. She looked up at him. “I’ll take my punishment, Elijah. Whatever you decide.”

  He nodded and lifted her, carrying her into the bedroom. Seating her on the bed, he looked at her for a while before reaching for the hem of her top. He noted her obedience as she raised her arms over her head, allowing him to undress her. He eyed her breasts, full and pretty with pink nipples that turned darker when they hardened beneath his gaze. He reached to remove her pants, then her panties. She allowed him everything without resistance. He then took up the pillows and placed them in the middle of the bed.

  “Do you remember how I said I would punish you the next time you disobeyed?”

  She nodded, fresh tears welling in her eyes.

  “I need to take care of things outside first. I’d like you to be ready for me when I return. You should be on your stomach with the pillows beneath your hips, legs wide, arms stretched overhead. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she said.

  “Good. Get ready,” he said, getting up. “I don’t need to warn you about not being in position for me, do I?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  He nodded and walked out the door.

  His cock was hard as steel as he took care of the bodies and collected the laundry. But there was one more thing he needed before returning to Kayla.

  * * *

  Kayla moved into position as soon as he left. She’d caused so much trouble. And she’d disappointed Elijah. She knew her punishment would be harsh and she was determined to take it. She deserved everything he gave her. And afterwards, he’d forgive her. He’d hold her and let her cry and she’d be safe.

  Elijah returned some time later and she heard his intake of breath at the door from where he had a full view of her bare bottom displayed just for him. The pillows were firm enough that her hips were lifted well above the rest of her and she’d spread her legs wide, just as he’d said. Could he see the glistening of her sex? Did he know that while she’d waited for him, her pussy had heated through, leaking the first signs of arousal onto her thighs? She was excited by the idea of submitting to him. Of trusting him enough to be vulnerable. She did this for him. Only for him.

  A part of her wondered how they’d come to this point. How after just a few weeks, she found herself feeling safer than she’d ever felt in her life, trusting someone like she didn’t know was possible.

  “Look at me, Kayla.”

  She felt something cold and smooth on her buttocks and turned.

  “Do you know what this is?” He held up the stick.

  She looked at it and swallowed. “Bamboo.”

  “I’m going to give you twelve strokes, each of which you’ll count prior to receiving. You will determine my pace, but I will determine the location and the intensity.”

  She nodded.

  “This pain will be intense and I’d like for you to hold your position. You are not to cover your bottom and you are not to clench. If you do, the stroke won’t count. If you get up, the stroke won’t count. If you lose track of the count, we’ll start at one. I can offer to bind your wrists to the headboard as this is your first time with the cane. Would you like me to do that?”

  She was very sure that as much as she wanted to take her punishment for him, the pain of this implement might be too much to bear. “I think so. Yes, please, Sir.”

  He set the cane down on the bed next to her, so close she could smell where he’d cut it. Undoing his belt, he ripped it from its loops and bound her wrists to the headboard. She gripped it, gaining some strength knowing that it was his. That the last time, he’d used it to whip her and that this time, it would support her. Hold her.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Do you have any questions?” he asked.

  No, that about covered it. He heart pounded. She shook her head.

  “Face forward for the remainder of the punishment. I’ll begin on your count. Twelve strokes.”
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  She didn’t say anything but her knuckles whitened and she squeezed her eyes shut. “One,” she said, waiting.

  The cane whistled through the air before making impact with her buttocks. She gasped, then made a weak noise and knew immediately why he’d offered to bind her to the bed. Her eyes watered instantly and she closed her legs for a moment, squeezing everything tight, then released. He waited without a word as she resumed her position.

  “Two.”

  She swore she could feel the air shift as the cane sliced through to make its second mark. Her body shook and this time, she let out a small scream.

  “Three.” She wanted this over. Waiting wasn’t going to make it better. She groaned and rocked her hips back and forth, back and forth.

  “Four.” With this one it was a full scream. “Five!” Her body was covered in sweat and her bottom was on fire, the heat and pain spreading beneath her skin. “Six and seven. Please hurry.”

  He complied, still striking across her buttocks, lining the strokes up one right below the other. Her thighs were next, she knew it.

  “One at a time, Kayla. Breathe.”

  She rocked, climbed up on her knees for a moment, then realized with the skin stretched tight, there may be even more sting and lay back down. “Eight.” He landed it expertly at the crease between her buttocks and her thighs. She screamed, burying her face in the crook of her elbows, then gave herself over to crying for a few moments before counting the next number. “Nine.” Oh, god, she couldn’t take more. She couldn’t.

  “Almost there. Are you breathing?” When she didn’t respond, he added, “Kayla, answer me.”

  “Yes. Yes. Please, please hurry. Please!”

  “On your count,” he insisted.

  * * *

  The welts on her ass were gorgeous, red lines perfectly placed that would mark her for days to come. He’d make her keep counting—she needed to learn a very important lesson. Three to go, unless she missed the count. He hoped for her sake, she wouldn’t.