17. Lurking Dangers
Lurking Dangers
Malcolm
H e shouldn’t have told her. The look in her eyes was terrible as she sat down before him. He wanted to comfort her, but her humorless words had stopped him cold. He hadn’t once asked her about her time in captivity.
He could see it in how she flinched from loud noises or how she reached for him at night in her sleep. Now, seeing the true eyes she hid with smiles he felt he should have pride early on.
“I was changed,” she said softly, her hands grasped tightly in her lap. “But before I was changed. I shared a cell with three other witches. We all first thought it was a joke; how could we have been taken and no one had seen it? You know it’s funny, you always think that people who are taken or kidnapped did something weird or unsafe, but then you’re walking down the street just minding your own business, and someone just grabs you.”
Eliza seemed almost detached as she continued. “It felt like I was an object that someone was window shopping for and just plucked from the shelf. So, like that, I was taken and woke up in hell. They never tell you about the smell, the witches who were taken before, the ones who wrote about their experiences, and how they were lucky to survive. It’s a horrible mix of blood, bile and death, a perfect mix of scents that torture you just as surely as the screams do. High-pitched screams that can’t be described, aside from saying it’s a noise of terror at its finest synthesized just right for your ears.” She looked down.
“Eliza,” Malcolm stood and walked to her side, lowered himself to his knees, and placed a hand over hers. She was grasping them so tightly that they were shaking. She stilled once he touched her, and released a sigh.
“I watched as they dragged the others out. One by one, till I was the only one left. I used to hate everything. I hated my father for being a man whore, my mother for loving him and thinking a baby could fix everything. I hated myself for craving love from someone else.” The detachment in her voice changed into something bleak, “but I learned what real hate was every time I saw those orange-eyed bastards swaggering through the hallways. I imagined tearing out their eyes, their tongues, and every day they beat me for my defiance, for the times I spit on their faces. They beat me over and over until the beating felt less terrifying than the idea of sitting and waiting.”
Malcolm could feel his wolf prowling behind the wall of his mind; the need to kill and slaughter those who’d done this to their mate was growing more and more. The scars she had were riddled along her soul, and he couldn’t heal them better. He could only hold her, as she told him.
“So, one day, they came for me,” she said, bluntly as if the switch had been flipped. “I became the thing they were killing others to become.” She pulled one hand from beneath his and held it out. It was encircled in a bright ring of light. “They tore my body apart and put it back together. Some days, I thought I was going to lose my head, and someone else’s head was going to be attached. All for this.” She stared at the light with empty eyes, “This is what they killed so many of our kind for. They tied another deep inside of me; her rage, her pain wailed inside of me, and I thought I was going mad.” She closed her hands and lowered them, the light dispersed. “Sometimes I wanted just to die, fall to the ground empty of soul and mind.”
She licked her dry lips. “And to test this power; they set up a game. They’d invited faceless people to watch, and that was where I truly felt like I was losing it. Doll after doll, wearing the face of a fellow witch, was tossed in with the order to kill me. I had to fight. I had to live,” she whispered as she dropped her head. “So, I killed off the part of me that couldn’t do it, the girl who cringed away from death I smothered her so far down, she couldn’t even whimper and killed every single one of them.”
She felt like she should cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. “And then, one day, they locked me away. I guess I’d become perfect, their perfect killing machine.” She hated how dead her voice sounded.
“I will find them,” Malcolm's voice was rough and hard. When she looked at him, she was surprised to see his eyes were no longer green but tinted gold. “I’ll kill them, I swear to you.”
Leaning down she pressed her forehead against his shoulder. “Just hold me. I am so tired of death. I have seen nothing but it and the worst side of humanity for too long.” She turned her head, so she could look at him. “Trust me when I say you have done nothing. You haven’t shamed yourself, nor have you lost your honor. You are a good man, no matter what you’ve done.”
Malcolm reached up with his free arm and buried his fingers in her hair, and half-turning, he claimed her lips. His kiss was riddled with his own fear, need, and his great desire to protect her. The way he felt about the woman in his arms, he’d never experienced before. Even though he knew she was his to claim, he thought their bond was far more intense than others. The two of them were the two sides of a whole; the part of him that was cruel and dead inside she brought to life no matter how damaged she claimed to be.
His lips lingered against hers. He closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation of her hair slipping through his fingers. Her scent was like her skin, delicious; the dark copper color of it drew the eyes, and her figure filled out as she ate more and more.
Gently he pulled back and watched as her lowered lashes slowly lifted. The brown eyes beneath blazed hot at him; he wanted to keep that gaze hot and dazed forever. She released a blissful sigh, “We really should stop that.”
He nuzzled her chin and gruffly demanded, “And why should we?”
She pressed her fingers against his cheek and drew it gently down. Her eyes searched his face, “because it makes me want things I can’t have.”
He grabbed her hand and placed it over his heart, “And how do you know you can’t have it?”
She didn’t say anything, only spread her hand over his heart. With no answer, the two of them remained there, her hand over his heart and him, holding her, being her silent support.
She eventually closed her eyes and let herself be held.
The next morning, she didn’t wake up early. She’d stayed up waiting for Malcolm, but he never came as he was busy preparing for the next day's competition. She fell into a fitful sleep, her heart and mind restless.
She numbly stared out the window at the grey sky.
She looked over to the counter, which held a single book. Rising from the bed, she slipped from it and walked over to it. “Can this help us find the other books?”
“Yes, it is a seeker book. It holds the guide spells for the others. The sooner you send it, the earlier we can leave and find it.” Eliza nodded. She went to place the flat of her hand on the surface, only to hesitate for a moment.
“Why do you hesitate?”
She searched her heart for why she was reluctant to place her hand on the book. “You said the sooner I send this out, the sooner we’ll have to leave.”
“Yes.”
She pressed her lips together, “Can you give me a few more days? At least till after the Ceilidh?”
“You’re mate. You wish to spend more time with him?” the goddess asked.
“I wish he were truly mine, but that can’t be. I’m no one; I'm merely a mob character in a story.” She sighed, letting her fingers brush the spine. “I want to spend more time with him; I hoped to see him become the leader of his people.”
“I will grant you this time, but in exchange, you must leave when it is time,” the goddess said somberly.
She nodded, removing her hand from the book and giving it back to her. “I will, don’t worry.”
The voice slipped away. She sighed and, walking over to the bed, she plopped down. Rubbing a hand along her leg, she couldn’t seem to steam the anxiety running through her.
A knock on the door made her groan. She got back up and headed out into the hallway towards the door. “Who is it?”
“It’s me,” She frowned, the person speaking sounded an awful lot like Morgan.
Confused, she reached out and opened the door, only for Morgan, Agnes, and Lily to burst in. They looked at her with confusion. Their gowns made her think of a period play.
“What are you guys wearing?” She asked in blank astonishment.
Agnes answered first, “Well, the traditional gowns of our pack. Our Scottish roots demand it.”
Eliza quirked a brow, “You sound as Scottish as I do.”
Agnes waved her off, “We only wear clothing like this during ceremonies and today. Our Alpha is to be chosen by the heavens,”
“The heavens?” Eliza repeated skepticism clearly in her voice. She didn’t think heaven had anything to do with it, more like monster strength and claws that could rip someone’s head off; oh, let's not forget the whole changing into a large-ass wolf bit.
Agnes completely ignored her and motioned to her appearance. “Why are you not dressed?”
Eliza blinked in surprise, “Do you want an honest answer or something made up?” she looked pointedly at the door to her bedroom, “the first one is terribly boring.”
“Enough of that,” Agnes said, marching over to her side. She gently grabbed Eliza’s arm and directed her to the bathroom. Brush your teeth, shower, and don’t worry—we brought a gown for you. We’ll make you hot for Malcolm in no time.”
“Why do I need to look hot for—” her words were cut off by Agnes shutting the door. She glared at the door; she could blow it down, but there really wasn’t any point. She would wash up, and then once she was done, she’d head out and give bossy Agnes a piece of her mind.
Sadly, she never got a chance as she was rudely pulled out of the bathroom. Someone had rifled through her bags, and a clean pair of underwear and bra were on the table; her body was pulled in a different direction as Lilly and Morgan assisted Agnes in thier torture of her. The only thing she had to stop them on was her hair. She oiled it and braided it herself.
“Aww, aren’t you such a bonnie lassie?” Agnes said with a fake brogue.
Eliza frowned, looking in the mirror, the tip of her finger brushing the words. “Awe, you're just so pretty,” Agnes mocked and sniffed.
Morgan clicked her tongue. “Not that anyone else will get a chance to enjoy it with how Malcolm acts?”
“You’re not lying,” Lilly added, laying a hairpin down. “He looked like he would take Harry’s head off when the guy stopped you from falling when you were helping in the kitchen last week.”
While she knew there was a connection between her and Malcolm, she didn’t believe it was as deep as people said. “He’s been a good friend to me.”
“A friend?” Lilly said, her eyes wide. “Eliza, if every alpha looked at his friend like Malcolm looks at you, there’d be nothing for the women to do around here.” She cackled, and Eliza couldn’t help joining her. “Now enough with the shy act. Malcolm is a full moon away from stirring your pot. What do you feel for him?”
She looked up, meeting the three woman’s probing stare before she looked away. “It’s a little more complicated than you think.”
“Then uncomplicate it,” Agnes said as she stepped back to let Lilly put a hairpin with flowers decorating it into the back of her braid. “The man wants you, there is no doubt about that.”
Sighing, Eliza stood and took in the full effect of the gown with its trailing sleeves and bejeweled belt—fake, of course, at least she hoped so. Her gown was a deep jeweled green, and the sewing on the collar that exposed her shoulders was truly beautiful. She felt like a princess or, better yet, a queen.
“Now, doesn’t she look like an Alpha’s girl?” Lilly whispered to Morgan and Agnes.
Eliza shot her an annoyed look, but shortly after, she laughed. “I never thought I would look so good in a medieval gown.”
“Exactly,” Lilly said, brushing a hand down her side, “it does wonders for my figure.”
Agnes laughed. Bending, she grabbed the edge of her gown and lifted it, showing her shapewear underneath, “and a few tucks and ends, too.”
All four laughed before Agnes checked her wristwatch and rushed them out of the cabin.
Together, they walked a few blocks before they arrived at what looked like a stadium. A few people were dressed in regular clothes. She gave Agness a hard side-eye which the woman ignored. Morgan took her arm. “Don’t be mad; we wanted to wear our traditional clothes.”
Eliza snorted, “Well, good thing we aren’t the only ones.” She noticed other people wearing traditional garb, a few children ran here and there in period costumes. They walked past the entrance to the top of the steps that led below.
Seeing just how many people were waking around below stirred something in her. The males were wearing their fur cloaks, along with their kilts. Some wore braies while others were bared-legged. A few had leather straps covering their chest and arms. All clan members had a broach of a wolf swallowing a moon. As she walked down the steps, she felt eyes on her as she was followed by Agnes, Morgan and Lilly. The attention felt odd enough for her to stop at the bottom step and glanced behind her.
“What are they looking at?” She asked, facing forward once more.
“Well, I’m thinking the people are looking at you,” Lilly said, coming to her side. “They’ve been whispering about who will take the title of Alpha. So, the women who are attached to the men trying out are being observed to see if they are worthy of being a lady.”
“Pfft, well, I’m not one of them,” Eliza said as she continued through the crowd. Looking around, she noticed that a few tables had food and drink, where a few older women were laughing and handing cups out. “Perfect.”
She quickly ran over to the table that had something like wine. She asked for one cup and eagerly took it. The wine tasted like spice and berry. It filled her belly and made her lick her lips at the taste of the tart. “Oh, that’s good.”
“Yes, it is,” Agnes said as she grabbed a cup too. “That’s why it’s called ‘wicked.’ You’ll be four cups in before you know it, asking for some random numbers.”
Eliza could understand that the taste made her crave more before she finished her first cup. She spotted a crowd in the distance. She squinted just as a man was lifted in the air, which was followed by a roar as his body fell back to the ground with a loud thud.
“Welp, there goes one candidate for Alpha,” Morgan said, chewing what looked like smoked jerky. “I guess they’ve gotten the pit battles over with.”
“I want to get a closer look, “Lilly said with excitement; all four of them moved toward what looked like a circle of sand. The crowd was thicker the closer they got to the ring, and just as they broke the circle, a full-grown man was tossed across her line of sight.
Her bottom jaw dropped as the thrown man landed easily, sliding back a bit. His crouched form looked dangerous, and a tail flicked back and forth behind him. Before he growled and moved forward with a speed that caused the bottom of her dress to lift from the wind that rushed past before he slammed into his opponent once more.
She watched as the two grappled, their veins and muscles popping. Men and women alike yelled out encouragement as well as the occasional bet. She found herself swept up by the good cheer and yelling just as loudly as the others, she barely had finished screaming when the smaller of the two, climbed the large male, wrapped his legs around the man’s neck, and tossed himself down using his leg strength alone he pulled the giant down and flipped so hard she thought he’d broken the large male's neck. He landed in a crouch before he stood, raising his hand in the air. The cheer that rose caused her to cover her ears.
“Oh look, they're starting another one,” Morgan shouted.
“Can I get a refill first,” Lilly asked as they left the fight. “I want another ‘wicked,’” she said with a saucy wink.
Eliza rolled her eyes. “You’ve already reached wicked, love.”
Lily scoffed. “I am nowhere near Agnes. Have you seen the way she and Harry get on?”
“Oh, don’t be putting me and my mans business out there,” Agnes said once again, attempting a Scottish accent, only to give up with a sigh. “I sound weird even to my own ears. I’ll just hit some sense into you.”
Lilly avoided the swipe made for her and ran behind Eliza, who tried but failed to shake the annoying young woman. The three were laughing as Morgan slipped away and returned with her third helping of jerky.
“I’ve been looking for you.”
The masculine voices stopped the four women in their tracks as Lilly straightened and Agnes turned around. Eliza looked up, only to feel her mouth drop. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in Malcolm in full wolf regalia. The only word that managed to slip out was, “Wow.”
“Yeah, right there with you,” Lilly said, admiration clear in her voice.
Hearing this forced Eliza to close her mouth with a click. She’d known Malcolm was hot, like looking at the man was like looking at a plate of chocolates, but she hadn’t known it had a grade. She’d seen him when he’d left the elder meeting in his traditional clothes, but something was different this time he looked…right.
He looked like a warrior from a time gone by; his legs were muscular, and the boots he wore came up to mid-calf. The plaid he wore, was wrapped around his hips and roped up, two braids of leather fell over his right shoulder, with one pinned into place with his clan broach. Across his chest was a band, and his sleeves were made of raw brown leather. The bear cloak fell majestically over his shoulders, and his hair was curly, but someone had added a few braids here and there.
Raw authority and charisma poured off him, and like most werewolves, he wasn’t affected in the least by the chilly weather. And while Eliza was inspecting him, he was doing the same to her. She could feel his gaze's hot, and searing cut as it roamed along her skin. She nervously pushed a piece of hair behind her head.
“Are you done?” She asked a little breathlessly, unable to take it any longer.
“Nope, I may need eternity to take in all of you,” he said with a pleased grin.
“Look at that slick tongue of yours go,” Morgan's chirped breaking the tension between them.
Eliza pressed a hand to her chest; for a second, she’d forgotten the others. Finally, she noticed that Robert and Agun were standing behind him.
Giving them a wave, she asked. “How long have you guys been out here?”
“Not long,” Malcolm said as he looked around. “We’ve been sending letters to the other Packs to see if they’ve noticed any suspicious activity on their own land.”
“When you say letters, you don’t mean— like real letters, right?”
The corners of his mouth turned up, “Yep, real letters.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.” Eliza muttered. “So, we’re going to keep exploring,” she stated, hoping the men would continue on their way.
Only Malcolm ruined her plan when he took her hand, and said, “Well, I can’t let you explore alone, now can I?” She gawked at him in confusion. “I think it’s best I accompany you.”
Glancing over her shoulder, she looked for help only to see the three she thought of as friends wave bye before swiftly running off. Eliza promised to pay them back later for their abandonment.