Chapter 4 - Amelia
I flinch and curl into myself when one of Jackson’s men strokes his knuckles across my cheek.
“Hey! Hands off her!” another man warns from behind. “You heard what Jackson said. No hands on the merchandise.”
The first man quickly snatches his hand away, the delirious look in his eyes as repulsive as the way he seems to be foaming at the mouth. It’s like he’s never seen a woman before.
Then again, I’m dressed in a white, flowing silk gown that doesn’t leave much to the imagination with its low-hanging neckline. It’s not a dress that I’d choose for myself, but Jackson forced me to wear it after kidnapping me from the parking garage of the retirement home.
I can’t even consider him my brother anymore. I have no idea what he’s up to, but his relentless methods indicate that it’s no good. With my hands tied with thick rope behind me and duct tape across my mouth to keep me quiet, I have no idea what’s behind the steel doors of a dilapidated warehouse in the middle of nowhere.
What is he planning? Why was I forced to wear something that resembles a wedding dress with no explanation from Jackson?
It seems I don’t know him at all. Gone is my brother, in his place a ruthless man who has a brigade of leather-clad minions following his instructions like loyal lap dogs. When he snaps his fingers, they do as they’re told. I guess he forgets to order them to take showers…
When a loud whistle rings out from inside the warehouse, the man who’d been ogling me steps forward and unlocks the latch on the huge steel door, then pushes the door in. From the shadows, more men group behind me, and two pairs of calloused hands grab my arms to force me inside.
There’s no way I can escape these brawny men, but I fight against the restraints of their rough hands, my protests muffled by the tape over my mouth. My resistance is futile, and it’s only when I give up fighting that I realize the inside of the warehouse appears to be a lab of some kind.
But it’s not the machines or equipment spread around that catches my attention, but rather the two rows of red candles burning on either side of us as we walk further into the warehouse. Jackson has his back to us, but beyond him, there’s another head with dark curls peeking out from the top.
Jackson steps aside, his hand clutching the other man’s jaw. I gasp when I see the man, realizing that he’s my brother’s prisoner, just as I am, with metal bars across his wrists to keep his arms pinned to his sides against a steel structure behind him.
He’s also wearing white silk.
Is my brother involved in some kind of cult activity? That would explain the red candles on the floor, and the eerie tension in the air.
As we near them, Jackson steps in front of the man and says something that has him lifting his eyes and meeting mine. My heart skips a momentary beat, only because I witness the dread flashing across the man’s dark eyes.
We’re going to die, and he knows it too. I can see it in the way his eyes flash with despondence and have a gloomy dark glint in them as if his life is flashing past and he’s mulling over his deepest regrets in life.
My brother’s men finally release me when we’re close enough to hear the man’s somber, hushed voice as he mumbles, “Why don’t you just kill me now?”
Jackson turns to the man again, cocking his head to one side as he feebly slaps the man’s bruised cheek. “Now, we both know that’s not possible, Dorian. Not until you’ve done what I need you to do.”
So the man’s name is Dorian. If we weren’t on the brink of dying at my brother’s hands, I would have taken more time to notice him, his unique name nagging for my attention. All I can do now is catch a glimpse of his muscular body bound to the metal structure, wrists, and ankles pinned by thick metal bands, and notice a tattoo on his left hand that disappears up the sleeve of the white satin cloak he’s wearing. The silk is so thin, that it hugs his body and curves against every contour of his muscular form. I can only imagine what’s underneath that flimsy cloak, but it’s not like it matters.
We’re going to die.
“You’re crazy, Jackson!” Dorian spits at my brother. His venomous tone only earns him a punch in the face while he can barely move. I flinch for his sake, the impact of my brother’s fist cracking his head to the side, sending a spill of blood flying from his nose and landing in a streak on the floor.
“Urgh!” Jackson grabs a towel from a table nearby and flings it across to one of his men. “Look what you made me do, Dorian!” He clicks his tongue and then addresses his lackey. “Clean him up. We need to be quick. The wolf moon only happens once a year.”
Wolf moon?
I frown with confusion as my brother comes up to me and rips the duct tape from my mouth. It stings, but not as harshly as his actions have been ever since he visited me at work this afternoon.
“Jackson…” I whisper breathlessly, reacquainting my mouth with the freedom I’ve been pleading for while glaring at my brother. “... What’s going on? What’s happening?”
My brother slinks his arm around my shoulders, drawing me into his side. If it wasn’t for being kidnapped, I would have sunk into his embrace. But this isn’t my brother anymore.
He’s a cold-hearted, murderous kidnapper right now, and my body responds by tensing beneath his arm.
“You, my dear sister, will be married tonight.”
“M-married?!” I exclaim. “What the fuck, Jackson?!”
“Ooh…” Jackson sucks in a breath and shakes his head disappointedly. “Watch your tone, Amelia. There’s nothing you can do to stop this. Not even curse me out.”
“I’ll scream!” I threaten, tugging myself free from his arm only to be captured by two pairs of arms behind me.
Jackson’s lips curl into a wry smirk as he takes a haunting step forward. He leans in close enough for the smell of tobacco and liquor to swirl in the air in front of my nose and churn my gut. “You can try screaming, but no one will hear you.”
“What’s going on here?” I wail, defeatedly looking around. “Is this what Dad’s research has come to?”
Jackson guffaws into the air, the eerie sound filling the expanse of the high-ceilinged warehouse. “I’ve done what Dad could never do, Amelia. I have the answers.”
Shaking my head in disbelief, I set my teary eyes on my brother’s face and saw a psychopath staring back at me with a manic glint in his eyes.
“Wh-what would he think if he knew what you’re doing?”
The sardonic smirk is wiped off Jackson’s face. “Do you think I care what Dad would think?!” he bites back bitterly, staring deadpan into my eyes. “He isn’t here now, is he? It doesn’t matter what he would think.”
I continue shaking my head slowly. My brother has become a monster. “I don’t understand what’s going on, Jackson. Who—What—”
“You don’t need to understand anything, Amelia. You were always too naive to wrap your head around the bigger picture, mi hermana…”
”Don’t call me that!” I snap at him, and he bemusedly chuckles again.
“Why not, mi hermana?” he taunts, lifting a steady brow. “It’s a celebration. Tonight, you will marry my friend Dorian.”
“Why? Does he owe you money? Is this about that ingredient you were missing for your trials?” I blabber, hoping I can find a way out of this mess and spare my life if I can come up with a solution.
“Eh… Something like that,” Jackson contemplates, swaying his head from side to side. “What I do need from you, mi hermana, is a child from this man.”
“A child?!” I cough and splutter dubiously, scowling at my brother. “What do you need a child for?!”
“Not just any child, Amelia…” He strolls over and grabs my shoulders, turning me over and pointing at Dorian tied to a chair just as the man cleaning up his broken nose steps aside. “... But a child from him.”
Our eyes lock in that moment, his eyes full of defeat and shame as thick brows knit tightly and hood his already mysterious, dark eyes that are faintly visible from the coils of thick hairs that curtain his forehead. Despite the situation, I can’t help but notice how striking his features are even with the horrid bruise marring his cheek and the sharp bridge of his nose disfigured from where my brother punched him.
He’s ruggedly good-looking, igniting something baser inside me. I mentally chastise myself for the heinous thoughts that race through my mind. I shouldn’t be focused on his most salient facial feature amidst the dark hairs of an unkempt beard ruffling over his jawline and below his nose, but I find myself wondering what his plump, rose-tinted lips would feel like if I kissed him.
Oh, my God! What a preposterous thought to have in a time like this!
It’s not like I can help myself. The man is devilishly good-looking, and his muscular form implies that he’d be strong enough to fight his way out of here if he wasn’t fettered to the metal structure behind him. When his eyes drop and his head lolls down from his neck, I have reason to suspect that it’s more than the chains and bands that are restricting his ability to fight.
“Wh-why?” My eyes flicker to my brother, tears rolling down my cheeks. There’s something about the man’s disposition that grips my heart with sympathy. For a moment, it doesn’t even matter that my brother wants to force me into a marriage with the man. Instead, I can’t imagine what Dorian is going through right now, unable to fight his way out of this mess.
Jackson stares at me for a moment, then sighs and waves his hand in the air to call forward one of his men.
“Show her, Zachary,” Jackson tells the man. “It’s time.”
“Yes, Jackson.” Zachary nods then takes a step aside while he removes his jacket.
When he closes his eyes, I frown, my eyes fixed on the greasy-haired man in confusion.
What’s going on?
He takes a deep breath, initiating the ripping of his shirt and the morphing of his face. Too stunned by what’s happening, my jaw drops but my eyes remain glued to him when thick, dark hair unfurls across his arms and the warehouse echoes with the sounds of his bones cracking and joints growing right before my eyes. The man is no longer a man, but a giant wolf who lands on large paws just a few inches away, the impact of his weight quaking the ground beneath my feet and the shock knocking my knees.
I plunge onto my rear, my throat dries as my heart pounds in my chest.
“This can’t be real…” I murmur, when the wolf takes an effortless step forward to close the distance between us, leaning down to lap a gruesome, purple tongue across my face. Its saliva is hot and slimy against my cheek, indicating that there’s no doubt about it—it’s as real as the air I’m struggling to breathe.
“Werewolves…” Jackson reveals as he pats the wolf on the head to dismiss it before he crouches in front of me. “... The answer to all of humanity’s problems.”
“You’re crazy, Jackson!”
Jackson sighs and hangs his head. “You keep telling me that, and I might just believe it.” He points over his shoulder. “He thinks I’m crazy, too. At least you guys have something in common. Maybe you can bond over it, and get to making that baby I want. Oh, and he’s a werewolf also.”
All I can do is glower at my brother as he grabs my arm and lifts me back to my feet. My eyes flicker to the man, Dorian, frowning at him when he doesn’t say a word in protest.
Why isn’t he fighting this? Is it something he wants?
How can any of this be possible?
Werewolves…
I didn’t even know that they existed until a few seconds ago.
The man my brother is forcing me to marry is a mythical creature? A shape-shifting wolf? Confounded to my horror, I give up trying to fight my brother’s men now that I know what they are. If I attempted to run, they’d just shape-shift and snap my head off my neck with their sharp canines.
I have no way out of this nightmare, even as I’m yanked down the path lit up by candles toward the swinging metal doors. Behind me, the werewolf prisoner, Dorian, is being dragged along, bound by metal chains.
When we near the doorway, Jackson hands out instructions to two of his men who leave the group and then transform into their wolf forms just outside the warehouse on the vacant grounds. They set off into a jog and disappear through the lurking shadows of the forest.
Jackson turns to me then, offering a thoughtful smile as he rubs his hands together.
“The ceremony will commence once my wolves reach the top of the cliff. In the meantime, some things must be signed.”
As if on cue, a henchman appears from behind Jackson and passes him a clipboard.
“This is meant to be a real marriage, just in case any one of you decides to try something reckless,” Jackson goes on. “It’s legally binding, so you might want to forget about trying to escape. There’s no escaping the law.”
“Don’t you need a priest or something?” I scoff dryly.
Jackson chuckles, glancing at the man who doesn’t utter a word. He doesn't look up at my brother either, his head hanging and his lips pressed into a firm line.
If he’s a werewolf, why can’t he transform and wreak havoc on his captors? Why is he giving up so easily, unable to meet my eyes as he keeps his head hanging?
So much has happened in the span of a few hours, all because my brother came to visit me earlier today. He should have just stayed away like he did for eight years.
Right now, I can’t even think of him as my brother. I can’t believe we share the same blood, are cut from the same cloth, and have the same parents. He’s changed so much, his insanity evident in the curling of his lips and the dangerous glint in his eyes. With the moon casting rays of silver on one side of his face, my heart skips a beat when I catch a glimpse of something dark and demented flashing in his eye.
“We don’t need a priest, mi hermana…” Jackson chides with a roll of his eyes. He points toward the sky. “We have the moon as the witness for the mating ceremony. And the werewolf to enact it.”
“M-mating ceremony…?” I ask in horror. I slowly turn my eyes on Dorian, who keeps his eyes pinned to the ground, his shoulders slouched.
Jackson can’t possibly mean that he’s going to mate with me in the open…
Is that how werewolves do it? While he’s in his wolf body?
Oh, God…
I gulp, turning wide eyes on Jackson when he snickers into his hand.
“Don’t worry, Amelia,” he assures in a cold tone. “You’re my sister, and I won’t let that happen out in the open,” he chuckles. “The mating ceremony is only so that he can bite you and claim you as his mate.”
I gasp with shock, turning my eyes back to Dorian just in time to catch him looking up at me with disgraced eyes. He doesn’t want this as much as I don’t, but there’s no way out when neither of us is in a position to fight or run from my brother and his battalion of werewolves at his disposal.
We’ll both be dead if we tried.