Chapter 6 - Amelia
Sobbing uncontrollably into my hands, the sting on the left side of my neck remains as a reminder that this nightmare is more real than I’d like to believe.
Werewolves are real. The man I’m stuck with inside this cage is a werewolf.
A cold shiver trickling with fear passes through my spine, settling at the base with a rigid current of awareness that drags me out of my wallowing state to sniff back the tears and lift my head. Wiping the back of my hand across my nose, my brows furrow as I take a good look around the cage.
That’s the only way to describe the large metal box that’s spread out from one wall to the other in the dreadful underground bunker beneath the warehouse. It’s just a box big enough to fit a bed in the middle and house a kitchenette with a two-plate stove and a kettle. There’s another metal sheet that forms a column on the other side of the bed, stopping halfway toward the front wall where only a faint outline of a door can be seen.
Our imprisonment seems premeditated by the looks of the cage and all the essential things we might need for survival, along with the hidden door and lack of ventilation in the cage.
Jackson was serious about what he wanted. The residual sting on my neck prompts me to lift a hand there while I slowly travel my eyes across the bed where the werewolf man, Dorian, has his head hanging over his arms folded on his bent knees.
Did he really have to bite me? I think contemptuously as I smooth a palm over the puncture wounds that pulse as if they have a life of their own.
Marriage…
It’s not something I contemplated before, but now I’m forced to accept that I’m a married woman. Not just married to any ordinary man, but to a werewolf who seems incapable of shape-shifting the way my brother’s henchmen easily did tonight.
The man, Dorian, could simply shift and get us out of here—save himself at least.
Unless he doesn’t want to leave and wants to mate with me.
Snapping the ridiculous thought out of my mind with a rueful scoff, I shake my head and drop my forehead on my knees.
I can’t dismiss the notion that the werewolf man plans on impregnating me. He went as far as biting my neck in a bestial procedure meant for animals. That’s what he is—an animal, a wolf.
He probably doesn’t have an ounce of humane mercy in him. If my brother was able to wipe out his human nature and goodness to become a monster, I can’t even imagine what a werewolf man is capable of.
Cautiously lifting my head, I narrow my eyes at the wolf man, observing the way he doesn’t move as if he’s fallen asleep in that position on the floor.
Why didn’t he take the bed if he was sleeping? Is this his attempt at being more human?
Or maybe I’m just overthinking it. Just before he bit me outside, he spoke gently and gazed at me through tender eyes. So far, I’ve only seen a soft side of him—not a feral beast like my brother’s men.
I shouldn’t make assumptions about the stranger, even if the only thing I know about him is that he’s a werewolf. There are so many unanswered questions that only he might be able to answer.
Like why is my brother doing this? And what will he gain from a child conceived between the werewolf man and me?
Taking a few deep breaths, I gather myself onto my feet and gently tiptoe around to where the werewolf man snores softly.
“Erm—hello…?” I whisper tentatively, reaching out a trembling hand but pulling it back when I decide not to make any physical contact. The little I did experience earlier when he bit me was enough to scar me—not just physically.
There was just something about the way his fingers felt when they brushed against my neck that had me wary.
Why did his touch feel familiar, when he should be a stranger? Why did the warmth of his very being envelop me in that moment, as if I wanted to be wrapped in his embrace?
The recollection of those fleeting feelings of affinity before he did the unthinkable by puncturing the sharpest teeth into my flesh has me shuddering with fear, a gasp escaping my lips. The wavering sound wakes the man, whose eyes open and pierce daggers into my soul with his ferocious stare.
“What are you doing…?” he husks in a deep, menacing tone that not only frightens me but sends awareness coursing through my spine and settling somewhere between my thighs.
The reaction keeps me cemented, frozen on the spot while my mind clambers for any reasonable excuse to deny that his dark tone, coupled with his mysterious and alluring features prominent even with how ungroomed he is, is the sexiest thing I’ve ever experienced in the twenty-eight years of my existence.
When I’m unable to form a coherent response, the man abruptly unfurls from his position, his brute aura knocking me off my heels while he barely lifts a finger. When my rear meets the cold, hard floor, the striking heat of his presence keeps my eyes bound to his while he towers above me.
“Are you trying to seduce me?!” he spits with venomous disgust on his tongue, his eyes turning to dangerous slits as he glares at me disdainfully.
“S-seduce…?” The word rolls off my tongue long before I can comprehend its meaning. When I do, thanks to the vicious glint that flashes in his eyes, I shake my head fervently in denial.
“N-no! That’s not what I’m doing!” I defend, my bottom lip trembling as if I’m about to cry.
I can’t handle how close he is, or control my body’s natural response to the prominent and captivating scent of peppery richness that seems to ooze from his pores and mask the smell of perspiration and blood. Like a cologne only he could wear, the scent infiltrates my airways as if I’ve just consumed the most expensive, intoxicating liquor without taking a sip.
My eyes flit to his lips, chapped and battered but somehow, still enticing in its fullness, and I wonder what it would be like if I did take a sip.
Would it be my undoing? Would it be the kiss of death that would not only free me from this torment but liberate me into experiencing the finest pleasures life has to offer so that I die with a smile on my face?
“Good…” Dorian sniffs as he leans back. “Your brother is crazy if he thinks I’ll ever put a child in you,” he grunts.
I let out the breath I’d been holding, pulling myself up and crawling back until I was pressed to the bed. I don’t feel unsafe because he’s a werewolf, but because his masculine energy is so consuming, I can’t think straight around him.
“He is crazy,” I concede, my voice so faint, it’s almost inaudible. But Dorian catches it, and nods, his eyes flickering to the bed.
“You should get some rest. We’ll figure out a way out of here in the morning.”
I don’t have any reason to protest, so pressing my lips into a firm line, I nod tersely and climb up onto the bed, slipping between the sheets while he’s not looking at me. The bite mark on my neck continues to pulse as if my heart is in my throat, but I close my eyes and ignore the nagging of the dull ache, praying that sleep can be my escape from my uncontrollable thoughts.
***
All I have is a first name, and the knowledge that the man I married—my supposed “husband”—is a werewolf. The latter betrays his behavior when he smiles at me, offering out a hand before we ascend the terrain of rocks and loose twigs that we crush with every step we take.
Hand in hand, I follow Dorian until we’ve reached the top of the cliff overlooking the Kings River in my hometown of Fayetteville. I recognize the familiar town with its distinguished buildings illuminated in the horizon of the setting sun, while Dorian’s hand brushes along my neck, moving my hair aside to expose his steady gaze on the mark he’d left behind, his eyes sparkling appreciatively as his lips toy into a smile.
“Mine…” he drawls, leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss on my neck. My heart flutters as if it possesses wings, my cheeks heating up with a blush that seems to extend from the rapture in my chest while Dorian’s closeness becomes the air I breathe.
“Mate…” he whispers against the shell of my ear, his breath warm and enticing, sending a burst of electric awareness rushing through me, igniting a desire so deeply buried that it shocks me now when he manages to unearth it from its hiding place.
I pull back only to stare at his face, marveling at how smooth and honey-golden his tanned skin is. Gone are the bruises and scars that were evident before, leaving behind only the perfectly imperfect features of his natural beauty. His crooked smile is the most enthralling, and again I wonder what it would be like to kiss those luscious, rose-tinted lips.
As if in response to my immoral thoughts, Dorian skims his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, moistening the bud before he gradually leans in and I catch the wisp of pepper and citrus notes in the little air that’s left between us.
My eyelids flutter closed, my lips parting in anticipation of his kiss when a thunderous howl in the background seizes our attention and snaps us from the bliss.
With an unruly force, Dorian pushes my shoulders and knocks me to the ground before shape-shifting into a giant, magnificent wolf. When I meet the glassy beads of his wolf eyes, he lowers his furry head, and a purple tongue laps at his muzzle as he stalks forward.
Like a predator closing in on his prey, his rumbling growl paralyzes me, allowing him to climb over me, his paws pinning my shoulders as saliva drips from the corners of his mouth onto my face.
My heart is pounding now, fear taking the reins as I predict my death. I shut my teary eyes, whimpering on the sob lodged in my throat, feeling unfulfilled now that my last wish before death isn’t to feel the ministrations of his lips on mine. I’m his next meal, and all I can do is accept my twisted fate by turning my face.
Until I hear his voice in my mind, low and husky, as he says the single word, “Mate.”.
My eyes fly open, my vision shrouded in darkness and the cold, hostile ambiance of the metal cage. Shivering, I clutch the blanket to my chest and lug in a deep breath.
It was just a dream.
I’m not sure if it’s relief I feel, or disappointment that I didn’t get to experience a wild fantasy I only discovered tonight when I met the man I was forced to marry.
It’s hardly a marriage, now that we’re confined to a merciless metal cage that turns the air icy. Cautiously turning my head, I don’t find Dorian curled on the floor where he’d been before I fell asleep.
The only evidence that he didn’t join me on the bed is the untouched pillow beside me. Again, I’m not sure if I should be relieved, though it makes no sense for me to want him to desire me in a way that would only please our captor.
It’s sick and twisted to think that my own brother would do this to us—to me. Whatever business he has with the werewolves, he could have kept me out of it. I don’t want this.
I don’t want to be married to a werewolf, and I don’t want to have a werewolf child.
I’m jolted from my resentful thoughts when I hear movement behind the metal wall that separates a corner of the cage from the bedroom. Slowly slipping out of the bed, I bite my bottom lip in contemplation.
Dorian said that we could find a way out in the morning. I’m not sure how much time has passed since I fell asleep, but there’s one thing I am sure of—Dorian and I are in the same predicament. Right now, he’s the only one I can trust if I ever want to escape.
Willing myself to my feet, I absentmindedly rub my neck where I’d been bitten as I make my way to the wall. I frown to myself, staring at the cold cement floor beneath my bare soles, wondering why the bite still thumps as if Dorian’s teeth are pierced into my flesh right now, when I end up walking into a wall.
Crash!
Except, it’s not the cold wall of metal I’ve walked into, but a solid, warm body with strong hands that grip my shoulders with nimble reflexes to steady me. Gulping hard, my eyes land on a sculpted set of abs where tanned skin pulls taut over heavily defined muscles. I stop myself from letting my eyes drift down when I notice the trail of dark hairs spiraling in a path toward the towel hanging low on his hips.
“S-sorry, I er—” I stammer, hastily turning around just as a blush creeps onto my cheeks. A hand flies to my eyes to cover them even though I have my back to Dorian.
Gosh!
Why is my heart pounding so strongly? Why is there tingling between my thighs?
Why is my neck throbbing where he’d bit me?
“You’re awake…” he observes dryly, padding off toward the opposite of the bed where he pulls open a steel cabinet on the wall.
I keep my gaze lowered, only catching glimpses of him pulling out a set of clothing and a fresh pair of boxers. It takes every ounce of self-control I can muster to stop myself from watching him as he pulls the boxers up his legs and the towel pools at his ankles. Whatever is left to the imagination has me foaming at the mouth as if I’m a hungry pup.
When he pulls a cotton blouse over his head, it’s safe for me to look up. That’s when I notice his thick arm adorned with black ink in tribal shapes coiling all the way to his elbow.
“Your brother was kind enough to pack some fresh clothes for us,” he rumbles sarcastically, pointing at the bathroom stall. “And there’s hot running water.”
I nod timidly as I watch him cross the room and crouch near the almost invisible door, inspecting the floor. When he touches a fingertip to the metal structure where it meets the cement floor, he quickly snatches his hand back and mutters a string of curses under his breath.
“What happened?!” I exclaim, impulsively rushing forward when he turns a deadly glare on me.
“What are you doing?” he growls, nostrils flaring and eyes full of horror.
“I—er—” I hesitantly take a step back. “What just happened when you touched the cage?”
“Nothing,” he grunts dismissively, pressing his finger between his lips and sucking at the digit as if he just burned it. When his brows knit angrily and he turns back to the metal wall, I realize that he’s directing his frustration at me,
Except, I’m not the enemy. If he’s trying to find a way out and the cage is somehow charged with electricity to prevent us from escaping, then I should know about it.
I should be helping him.
Huffing my own frustration, I sit on the edge of the bed and fold my arms while he continues to scan the metal cage and scratch at the floor to inspect it. When I clear my throat to draw his attention, he doesn’t offer me a second glance.
What the hell?
“Look, I don’t know what’s going on here or why my brother is doing this,” I started without caring if he was paying attention to a word I was saying. “But I’m as much a victim here as you are.”
“Yeah, I know,” he grouches from where he is inspecting a corner of the cage. “That’s why I’m trying to find a way out.”
“I’m sorry about all of this…”
My apology is enough to get him to pause, his shoulders slouching as he turns with his head hanging. He scoffs under his breath, hooded eyes meeting mine with mystery in their darkness.
“What makes you think that I need your apology, huh?” he asks bitterly.
“I—”
I’m stopped from defending myself when he lifts a dismissive hand and turns his face away.
“I don’t care what you have to say, got it?”
I nod fearfully in response.
“Good. Now, try to stay as far away from me as you can in this prison cell. If I find a way out, you’ll be the first to know.”
With that, Dorian goes back to what he was doing before I interrupted him. I don’t attempt to speak to him again, realizing that he wants nothing to do with me, even if we’re both prisoners here.
I don’t blame him. I just wish he wasn’t so ruggedly attractive, making it almost impossible to stop myself from imagining the most sinful things while watching him try to find a way out. From the way the muscles in his arms contract and flex with every movement, to the way he has his tongue pressed to his cheek as he works diligently to find a way out, I can’t tear my gaze away.
It’s pathetic being captivated by the man who just told me to stay away from him when all I was doing was showing compassion the way I would to a patient at the retirement home.
Sighing heavily, my mind wanders to what my life was like only a day ago, before I met my brother after eight years and before I was forced into a marriage with a werewolf man. Warily looking up at the man who’s now technically my husband, I realize I know nothing about him that would justify how strongly attracted I am to him.
Maybe it’s the culmination of everything that’s happened and the dream I had—a fantasy that has no weight in the real world. It’s only because he’s undoubtedly the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on that I’d be remotely drawn to him in the most carnal way. I can’t be as demented and deranged as my brother turned out to be to consider that these desires mean something.
What I need is a shower to wash away this feeling.