Chapter 2 - Trina
The sounds of the night wrap around me like a soft down comforter. Little thrills of pleasure trace down my spine and across my shoulders as I walk up the narrow concrete path in my bare feet.
Even though it’s getting late, the stone under my feet still feels warm. I pause to look up at the stars, stretching my arms out behind me as I tilt my head straight back.
I am so content here. A life I could never have imagined, really.
Nearby, a cricket takes up the song, bringing a smile to my face.
I straighten up again and walk to the end of the path, careful to step over the cracks where rogue clumps of grass are wildly growing through to take over the concrete.
I stop near the curb, loving the stillness at the end of the street.
No houses nearby, no cars going past. This is utter bliss.
A warm breeze teases my face, lifting my hair off my neck and bringing an even wider smile to my face.
This is freedom.
I close my eyes, listening to the night. Sometimes, when I concentrate, it’s almost as if I can hear a sound beyond all the others. A deep, consistent note of harmony that beats just beyond my hearing.
Like the heartbeat of the world.
I chuckle to myself as I turn to walk back up the path. I move my feet slowly to avoid the big cracks and knots of grass, pushing back the unruly weeds that brush against me as I go. Before I walk up the steps to go back inside, I pause to look up at my house.
It’s tiny, but it’s everything I need, and more than I ever asked for.
My mind shies away from the broken pieces of my past that remind me exactly why this little cottage and overgrown garden look like heaven to me. I take a deep breath and admire it, simply for its own sake, and try not to let my thoughts get clouded by old memories.
Just appreciate what you have, right now. That’s all that matters.
A breeze skitters through the leaves above, and I close my eyes as it trickles down to me and teases my hair.
Safe. So safe. Boring, even.
I chuckle to myself, wondering how many people in the world actually wish for their lives to be boring. For me, personally, it’s utter perfection.
My work at the museum is all I ever needed out of a job—interesting, but uneventful. I have a solid routine that gives me stability and allows me room to play, too.
I open my eyes, tilting my head back again to look at the stars. Almost every night, I find myself outside, drawn by a call I can’t consciously hear. I always feel this sense of connection and contentment, and give thanks for all I have.
Only missing one thing…
I shake my head as if to rattle that thought straight back out of it again. I gather up my robe and step forward to go back up to the porch.
At that moment, a massive black shadow appears in front of me. I don’t have time to scream or even think as strong arms wrap around me and yank me off my feet.
At first, I think I’ve been grabbed by some kind of predator, and I just go limp from shock. As I’m manhandled into the woods, though, I realize I’m being held against someone’s chest, and they have their hand over my mouth. This isn’t some horror movie scenario—at least, not yet.
This is just a person, a shitty human being. At best, this is a prank; at worst, it’s a psycho. But still, just an ordinary human being.
A dark wave rises up in my memory, threatening to overwhelm me with horrors far worse than anything you’d see on the true crime shows. I start to tremble as all the things that ever truly terrified me rise in my mind, beating against my skull, but I shove the images away.
Let me go, you asshole!
I start squirming, and the guy has to tighten his hold on me. Even with my struggling, he manages to hold on to me until we come to the other side of the vacant block. I see a car parked at the edge of the road.
Do I know that car?
Just as we reach the curb, he has to loosen his grip to find his keys, and I scrape my heel down his shin, struggling and ramming an elbow into his ribs. The guy makes a muffled grunt of pain and drops me.
I smack into the hard ground and roll, trying to get to my feet and run in one movement. I make it two steps before the guy throws himself on top of me. Wriggling like a hooked fish, I flip myself over and try to slap him across the face.
“Trina!” he snaps, with exasperation. “Fucking stop!”
“What?” I murmur, waiting for my eyes to adjust. “Owen?” I almost shriek.
“Look, just calm down,” he says, sitting on top of me. “I know I’ve gone about this the wrong way—”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I scream, regretting for the first time that I don’t have neighbors. “Gone about what the wrong way—and what the fuck is the right way, if you’re referring to kidnapping someone?”
“I’m not kidnapping you,” he says, annoyed. “I’m just… well…”
“Go on?” I reply, trying to sit up and glare at him. “Please, tell me exactly what you’re doing?”
Owen sighs, folding his arms as he stares down at me. He has me completely pinned by straddling my hips, and I can’t even wriggle my way out.
“Look, this is going to be hard to accept—”
“That you’re a complete psycho? I’m getting that loud and clear.”
“Stop it!” he snaps. “Will you let me talk?”
“Will you let me go?”
He glares down at me, and I can see the softest hint of green in his gaze, reflecting even in this poor light.
It sucks that he looks as delicious as ever while he’s fucking kidnapping me.
“I’m a shifter,” he says finally. “A wolf—an alpha, actually. There was a ritual to determine my mate, and apparently, it’s you.”
I stare at him in complete disbelief for a second, then I burst out laughing.
“Come on, Owen,” I giggle, wishing I could wipe the tears from my eyes. “Where are the others? Are you filming this? Is it a social media trend or something? You got me—really good, too. Now if we can just go back inside—”
“Trina,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “There’s no one else here.”
Something about the set of his jaw and the cold glint of his eyes makes me believe him immediately. A cold lump sinks from my throat into my chest and finally into my stomach as chills of fear prickle at my skin.
He’s a maniac. A total lunatic, and I’m trapped.
“Owen—”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I can’t hear another word from you. You’re going to save my people—and me. I have to do something now, right now.”
What the fuck?
“Owen, listen—”
“No, you listen!” he yells. “I don’t understand this, either—and I’m not exactly happy about it—but this is how it has to be.”
He reaches into his pants pocket, and for a moment, I’m afraid he’s going for a knife, but all he pulls out are two loops of string. He binds one around my wrist and the other around his.
Oookaay…
“But the sacred weave of the Dead Silk, let us be bound, mind and body as one, alpha and mate. The strength of our union enriches every wolf in the pack and protects us from all curses. So shall it be.”
He looks around, as if he’s expecting some great fanfare or word from the gods, and frowns when the night stays completely peaceful and quiet.
What just happened?
He lets go of me, and I wrestle with the string, getting frustrated when it won’t come off.
“What is this stuff?” I ask, still tugging on the string.
“It’s Dead Silk,” he says. “It will bind any magical creature.”
“I’m not a magical creature.”
“It holds humans just as effectively.”
He continues to look around, but nothing changes, and he finally gets up, offering his hand to me to help me up.
“I thought something would happen,” he says, disappointed. “I wanted some acknowledgement that it worked.”
“That what worked?”
“The marriage ritual.”
“Excuse me?”
Owen shrugs. “It’s from one of our old books. I didn’t want to wait around for the council to approve—we’ve wasted enough time already.”
The council?
“Owen,” I say, trying to sound reasonable. “I can see that you’ve got something going on with you—you’re distressed. Why don’t we go back to my place and talk?”
And call the cops and a bunch of guys in white suits holding butterfly nets and straitjackets.
“You don’t understand,” he says. “My pack is in danger. I really thought this would work.”
“Your pack?” I ask. “As in, wolf pack?”
“Yes. Didn’t I mention that?”
“Owen!” I snap. “Listen to yourself—you’re talking crazy! Please, just calm down, and we can—”
“No!” he roars, suddenly stepping towards me. He grabs my arm and shoves me against the car, looking straight into my eyes. “You’re the one! I’m sure of it, I felt something—”
“Owen,” I choke out. “You need help—”
He gives me a little shake, and being pressed between his hot, firm body and the cold, hard metal of the car gives me a flash of sensation that is neither pain nor fear.
Not now. Jesus, Trina.
It’s been so long…
I look up into his eyes, and he looks down into me, confusion written all over his face. His eyes are wide, almost panicked, and when he tilts his head towards me, I raise my lips, feeling a rush of heat flood across my breasts, belly, and thighs.
Do I want him to kiss me? Maybe I’m the one who’s nuts.
“I need to convince you,” he says finally. He lets go of my arm and steps back, keeping his eyes on mine.
“This can be uncomfortable to watch,” he says. “But I can’t see any other choice.”
What the hell is he going to do?
“Owen, calm down,” I say, trying not to freak out. “You don’t need to do this.”
Whatever it is.
“Yes, I do,” he says. “I need to show you that I’m not lying. I really am a wolf.”
Dear God, how do I react to this? Do I play along, or straight-up tell him he’s bonkers?
“Okay, Owen,” I say, trying not to sound patronizing. “That’s really… amazing. Thanks for showing me.”
“I haven’t done it yet,” he growls, stepping back again to put a bit more space between us.
A ripple flows across my vision, and I feel dizzy as I try to keep him in focus. My eyes try to follow the movement, but a shimmering, pale curtain falls across Owen’s shape. Less than a second passes before Owen disappears, and a massive white wolf is standing in his place.
I stare at the creature, my back pressed against the car as I start to tremble so hard, I can barely stay on my feet. The wolf tilts its head, and I see a flash of green flicker across its gaze.
Owen’s eyes…
The wolf takes a step forward and growls. I try to leap backwards, crashing into the car and screaming at the top of my lungs. The wolf wags its tail and lets out a short “ruff” sound.
Good puppy?
My chest feels like it’s getting smaller and smaller, to the point I can only take short, quick breaths. I’m starting to feel dizzy when the wolf shimmers, and Owen stands before me again.
Naked now. Oh my…
I’ve always wanted to see him naked, but I sure as hell didn’t picture it happening like this!
Owen pins one of my shoulders to the car and looks into my eyes, tilting his head. “Do you see?”
“Yes,” I whisper hoarsely. “I see.”
“Good.”
Owen picks me up by both shoulders and wraps an arm around me, opening the car door to toss me onto the back seat. The strength has completely gone out of me as he gets behind the wheel and pulls away from the curb.
Leaving all my stuff, my whole life. Where the fuck are we going? What happens now?
I want to believe that I’ve cracked and am hallucinating, but the way my body responded to him can’t be denied. As disturbing as it was seeing him shift, I feel like something clicked into place when I saw it, as if it was a confirmation of things I already knew.
Dark memories rise in my mind again, and I shove them away.
The last thing I need right now is all that junk in my head. I need to figure out what to do.
“Where are we going?” I ask in a small voice.
“Diamond Springs,” he says. “My place.”
I’m so confused, I can’t answer him. The cuff of silk on my hand has started to feel heavy, as if I’m carrying a massive weight that binds me to Owen.
The hell it does!
The drive isn’t a long one, and by the time we reach Diamond Springs, all my worst fears are running loose in my mind. I’m in such a state of panic, I feel like my head is about to explode, but I manage to appear calm as Owen pulls me out of the car.
He mistakes my paralysis for compliance and walks beside me up the path, keeping me in front of him the whole way. When he unlocks the door, he pushes me in ahead of him, and as it swings shut behind us, my knees start to tremble again.
“Owen—”
“I’m sorry about this,” he says, without much sincerity. “But I had to.”
“Uh, where’s the bathroom?” I ask.
Owen chuckles. “You think I’m going to fall for that? It’s the oldest trick in the book.”
“Oldest trick in the book or not, I still require a bathroom from time to time.”
Owen cocks his head at me, then slowly nods. “Okay. But I’m going to stand right outside the door.”
“Whatever you like,” I mutter.
He leads me through his house, a large, modern building with flashy open spaces and huge windows. My panic wanes a little as I take in the scope of the place.
He’s a lot richer than I thought.
“Okay,” he says, gesturing to a door at the end of a corridor. “Five minutes, then I’m banging on the door. If you don’t open it, I’ll shred it into toothpicks.”
“Noted,” I mumble, pushing past him to go inside.
After closing the door behind me, I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror. I look pretty much like myself, just a little tousled.
I don’t wait long before I go to the only window, carefully lift the latch, and slip out into the woods beyond.
It might be the oldest trick in the book, but with good reason. It usually works.