2. Stella
2
STELLA
T he cold night air whips around me, and I pull my cloak tighter.
Looming up ahead is the old mill, its large wheel unmoving even with the strong wind. The journey from the tavern had been quick enough. The closer I crept to my destination, I could hear low hums of pain. Whatever is chained behind the crumbling building is clearly injured.
Its soft, keening sounds slice through my heart.
After hearing how the bar patrons talk about wolfmen, I’m a bit wary of what I’ll find up ahead. Regardless, this poor thing needs my help, and I will give it. If anyone besides Timson said it was dangerous, I might believe them. However, just because it comes from The Woods does not mean it’s evil.
That’s my hope at least. All I can do is offer up a prayer that it doesn’t turn on me the moment I appear.
The sounds of suffering get louder as I cut through the overgrown grass. This part of town is deserted. No one was on the street when I started this way, but I’ll have to be quick. The old mill sits below a hill, which is easy to happen upon, and I don’t want word of what I’m doing getting back to Timson.
I shudder to think about his reaction to finding out what I’m doing.
My hand wraps tightly around the barely touched glass of whiskey I took from the bar. I hope Old Bill won’t notice the glass missing until I can return it tomorrow.
Rounding the corner, my steps falter at what I find.
There he is. Tide to a post with a heavy iron chain wrapped around his throat. He is larger than any man I’ve seen—any animal either. The scent of blood is heavy in the air. His breathing is ragged. The thick muscles of his shoulders and chest rise and fall. The wind whips at his black fur, causing him to shiver more intensely.
His pointed ears drop down as he curls further in towards himself. My eyes trail his muscled frame, registering his sharp claws before glimpsing his calf. My breath catches at the gruesome sight. A bear trap has punctured through the lower half of his leg. It will be a wonder if the bone isn’t broken. The brown grass around him is soaked with his blood.
I stumble back a step, accidentally stepping on a fallen stick. The loud snap alerts the beast. His massive head whips towards me. With my position revealed, I have no choice but to show myself. A low growl emanates from him, his sharp fangs flashing in the moonlight.
My heart pounds and my mouth goes dry. Perhaps this wasn’t my best idea, but I’ve come too far to turn back now. Somewhere deep inside me, a voice whispers that everything will be okay and not to be afraid. My intuition hasn’t failed me yet, and I just have to hope tonight won’t be the first time it does.
Another low growl echoes around me. Sliding its thickly corded arms back, I watch its eyes peel open. My whiskey glass nearly slides from my hand as our gazes lock. His eyes are golden, like the throne my father once sat on. Even in the dim light, the shimmer. Only that’s not what steals my breath.
These are not a beast's eyes but a man's—human eyes stare back at me, untrusting and filled with pain. My heart starts to ache even more. As our eyes stay on each other, I watch the tenseness in his body dissipate before he lets out a soft whimper.
Glancing behind me, I make sure no one else is about one last time before walking closer to the chained creature. The beast shivers at my approach, tugging on the metal restraints with a loud clang.
“Shh,” I say softly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Kneeling next to him, he smells like pine and smoke. Then, the nauseating metallic scent of blood stings my nostrils. Glancing down, I can see the damage to his leg. The metal prongs are rusted and protrude at odd angles through the muscle of his calf. Clumps of black fur and flesh cling to the old trap. The wound will surely fester if not tended to properly.
Carefully, I set my whiskey down and remove the bag slung over my shoulder. Tentatively, I reach out, only to be met with a soft snarl. My eyes connect with his once more as I will him to see me not as a threat. Just because the streets are bare now does not mean they will remain so—I won’t be able to help him if they put me in chains, too.
“This is gonna hurt.” My hand touches the soft fur of his leg, and he whimpers. “I’m going to try and free you from this.”
The wolfman’s eyes close as he lets out a harsh sigh, which I take as his consent to do what I must.
Touching the cold metal of the trap, I feel around, trying not to gag at the wet, sticky blood coating my hands. I’ll need to do this fast to minimize damage. Taking a deep breath, my fingers wrap around both sets of metal teeth.
Without warning, I rip them apart and free the creature’s leg.
A loud growl tears through the night, swallowing up the audible groan of the metal trap. Moving quickly, I pick up my glass of whiskey and promptly douse his leg before he can pull it back. I’ll have to find a way to clean it thoroughly. Blood gushes from the wound, but luckily, the bone does not appear broken.
The wolfman lets out a harsh snarl as I reach into my bag and pull out a few rolls of clean cloths I took from the tavern. Dabbing at his wound, the first towel is quickly saturated with crimson. Gently, I tie the next one above his wound to slow the blood flow. I learned how to do this during my travels—knowing the skills of a healer would come in handy one day.
I never would’ve imagined using them to treat a wolfman.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “You have to be in a lot of pain. This will have to do until I can tend to your wound properly.”
His ears lower as he pushes up on his forearms. The muscles bulge beneath his fur as those golden eyes find mine again. Despite the fur, the ears, and, of course, the snout, he seems incredibly human. My stomach flutters under his intense gaze, but I can’t look away.
“Can you understand me?”
He blinks once before lowering his head.
“Good, I’m going to unchain you now.”
Again, he merely blinks at me, but I take that as agreement. Rising on my feet, I circle behind him. Tethered to the post is a snarl of chains. Timson and his hunters took their time to ensure the wolfman would not escape. Iron chains wrap around his ankles and wrists. They are secured with a heavy metal lock at the back of the post. The chain around his neck is bound in the same way.
Sighing, I look around for anything useful. I should’ve tried to snag Timson's keys, but that would’ve required getting closer to him than I could stomach. Instead, my eyes land on a large rock. Wrinkling my nose, I bend down to retrieve it. It is not the best, but it is better than nothing.
Raising the rock, I quickly bring it down on the old iron locks. The bang echoes around us, and I pause, listening for the footsteps of anyone who may have heard the noise. When everything remains still, I repeat the process: Bang. Pause. Bang. Pause.
The first lock to give way is the one securing his ankles. Once they fall loose, he growls, flexes his muscles, and whimpers as he tries to put any weight on his injured leg.
Sparks fly as I hammer away on the next lock. After what feels like hours, it is dented enough to fall loose, and the chains around his wrists sag. With a snarl, he claws at the iron binding his neck and yanks, the metal turning to shreds in his hands as he removes his final restraint.
Rising swiftly and favoring his uninjured leg, the creature towers over me. He blocks out the moon as he rises to his full height. I take him in, my heart pounding against my ribs. His powerful chest and abdomen give way to thick thighs. Dark fur that I know feels incredibly soft is matted with blood in certain places. The bullet holes Timson put through him are leaking blood in a steady stream.
I don’t let my eyes drift any lower than his waist, trying to ignore the heat creeping up my cheeks.
He is handsome. The revelation shocks me like falling into a pool of cold water. He is a beast—yet his eyes tell a different story. They reveal the hidden depths of his soul, and it calls to me. The rock slides from my hand and hits the ground with a thud. His eyes drift towards it before returning to my face.
I fight to hide my shiver as they slide over every inch of my body. When Timson did it early, I felt nothing but disgust, but with this wolfman, all I feel is warmth. Perhaps I have genuinely lost all semblance of sense after all this time.
The wolfman inhales deeply, his nostrils flaring. I lick over my dry lips before opening my mouth. Before I can say anything, a sound echoes from down the road. In the silence of the night, it becomes clear in a moment. My stomach drops.
It’s Timson and his hunters. Their voices slurred from drink as they stumble up the path towards us. The wolfman turns towards the sound, his lips peeling back from his teeth in a snarl. His body is tense as he lowers to a crouching potion.
“Go human,” he snarls without looking at me.
His voice sends shivers down my spine. It is rough and inviting at the same time. I wish to drink the sound down. Again, I must question if I have truly gone mad.
The voices get closer as another breeze picks up. My hair flies in front of my face. I watch the wolfman scent the air again, his muscles softening, if only for a moment.
“Wait,” I urge, watching him coil for the attack again. “You are in no shape to take them on—even as drunk as they are, especially not with those bullets still in you. I need to remove them and clean the wounds. Come with me, or you risk getting an infection.”
The wolfman snaps his head towards me as his ears flatten. Lowering himself to all fours, he stalks towards me with a noticeable limp. He stops, his nose pressing against my stomach before rising once more. His claws gently trace my sides. A gasp slips from my lips.
I’ve never felt like this before. The fluttering in my stomach has moved lower—a dull ache beginning to intensify.
“How do I know you aren’t planning to kill me?” he purrs softly. His head lowers as he skims his velvety nose up my neck. “What if this is all some trick—those hunters sending me someone as delicious as you to lower my guard? It’d make killing me easier.”
My eyes fall shut as he nuzzles against my collarbone. His fur skims over my exposed skin, causing goosebumps to rise. Somehow, I manage to find my voice.
“It’s no trick,” I sigh. “I just want to help you.”
I feel his body shift away from me. Blinking my heavy-lidded eyes, I watch as he tries to put more weight on his leg. He whimpers as the voices of the hunters get closer. Luckily, their drunken stupor has slowed their ability to travel. Still, they’ll be here soon if we don’t hurry.
“Come with me,” I say, touching his arm. Soft fur kisses my fingertips.
I don’t fear him—a revelation more shocking than finding him attractive. For some reason, despite his evident ability to cause me harm at the flick of his wrist, I know he won’t hurt me. That will not be the case for the hunters should they happen upon us.
“My cottage isn’t far from here. I can guide us there, but we must go before they see us.”
The wolfman blinks at me before opening his mouth. A voice cuts him off before I can hear what I’m sure will be another protest.
“Let’s skin him now,” a male voice cheers—Jaq.
“Yes!” A smattering of voices rises in agreement.
The wolfman tenses as my heart continues to pound. Sweat glides down my spine.
“I’ll skin him, boys, use the money from his pelt to woo that stubborn barmaid. I know her cunt is tighter than anything,” laughs Timson.
My hands feel numb, and my knees threaten to buckle. Bile coats my tongue at his crude words.
“If you marry her, you’ll let us have a turn, won’t you?” a familiar voice—Henri—asks.
“Only once I’ve broken her in.”
The world around me shifts and tilts. I reach out to steady myself on the post—vile, wretched man. I cannot marry him. I won’t. I’d rather slit my own throat. He thinks he hunts beasts for sport, but no creature is as wretched and monstrous as him.
A low growl cuts through the air as the wolfman’s eyes burn into mine.
“Please,” I say weakly. “If they find out I freed you?—”
I can’t even bring myself to complete the sentence.
Rolling his massive shoulders, the wolfman inclines his head in agreement. I try not to sag with relief as I quickly gather my things, leaving no trace of our existence.
“My home is just over that hill—nestled right into The Woods .”
Footsteps sound from near the front of the mill. We’ll have to be run, and I’ve never been particularly?—
The wolfman walks over to me before lowering to all fours again. Dipping his head in front of me, I’m unsure what he is offering. Then it clicks—he wants me to climb onto his back.
“Are you sure? Your injury?—”
But a loud retching sound from just around the corner stops my protest. A few voices jeer at Henri for being unable to handle his liquor.
This may be our only chance of escaping unseen. Quickly, I grab his fur and hoist myself atop his muscled back. My dress rips in the process, but I pay little mind to it. My thighs go to either side of him, his fur tickling my most tender flesh. He is wide enough that the muscles of my legs burn with the stretch. Leaning down, I hold tight to his powerful frame.
With a loud howl, the beast below me leaps forward and takes off into the night. Darkness swallows us up as I hear Timson’s yell pierce through the air. I pay it no mind and only hold on tighter to the wolfman.
He runs without stopping, even if I know his injury must be hurting him. The grassy terrain of the village is a blur as we race towards my home. There is determination lacing through every powerful stride. His body absorbs the impact as we travel faster and faster. I’ve never experienced anything like it.
I recall the harsh set of his muscles when he heard Timson’s and the other’s voices. Despite his wounds, he was ready to take them head-on. It stands to reason that for the first time since coming to this village, there may finally be someone who wants Timson dead as much as I do.