Chapter 11
Sandra
When I open my eyes again, everything is blurry, confusing, as if I were floating between the real world and the world of nightmares.
I try to move, but a strange, cold sensation runs through my skin. My head feels heavy, but I force myself to look around and see a strange place, a white, impersonal space through bars. I am inside what appears to be a large cage, with a hospital smell.
What...?
My thoughts skid, slipping through the edges of unconsciousness.
Then I remember. I finally remember what happened and my heart trembles in my chest, electrocuted by panic.
I remember the monster I tried to escape, the essence I drained until there was nothing left, my near death...
A man approaches, but I don't recognise him. He says something quietly to a woman passing by. They leave, and I struggle to stay alert, to understand where I am.
But all I see are blurs, my eyelids are heavy.
I blink.
When I open my eyes again, I can't tell if hours or a whole day have passed. But now I'm on some kind of table and someone is touching my back, changing the bandage.
"The stitches look good, no signs of infection," I hear the man's voice say.
My mind is a chaos of pain and confusion.
I want to protest, but my mouth only emits a weak meow. My body moves minimally, the maximum strength I still have, which is almost nothing.
"Stay calm, you'll be out of here soon," he says in a soft voice.
Get out.
Yes, I need to get out, I need to escape!
But weak like this, and trapped in this body?
A wave of fear tightens my chest when I try to access my healing essence, but I find emptiness. The source has dried up.
It will be a long time before it flows again.
The man turns around, goes to a counter, and when he returns, he brings a post-operative gown to put on me.
He's really going to touch my whole body.
The humiliation burns under my skin, even though it's covered with hair.
It doesn't matter that I'm in this form — I'm still me inside, and he's going to dress me, manipulate me as if I were an object without a will of my own.
When he lifts my tail to put on the garment, I feel a heat rising to my face, shame and frustration mingling with helplessness.
Oh, how I hate this!
My eyes narrow, and I manage to meow louder, but I'm too weak to move, to fight against what they're doing to me.
He chuckles softly, dimples appearing on his face, sweet brown eyes that convey tranquillity.
"It's bad, I know, but it's necessary. For your own good."
But he doesn't understand. I'm not an animal. I don't need the little clothes because I'm not going to lick my wounds.
I shouldn't even be here!
None of this makes sense.
First, I was trapped in this animal form. Then, I got a nice eviction notice. And, as if the universe didn't think it had humiliated me enough, a monster almost killed me.
All I can do is let out a frustrated meow as I stare at the floor and calculate the distance to jump. My chance to escape is now, out of that cage, while the door behind him is open. Damn the pain throbbing in my back and the weakness that seems to weigh even on my bones.
But before I can gather my courage, the man's voice cuts through my thoughts as he finishes dressing me:
"There. He'll take good care of you."
Him? Who is he?
My mind spins, trying to grasp the logic.
By the stars and Mother Moon, what is going on?
Where am I going?
Did Luther find out what happened to me?
Has he come to get me?
My hope dies when a tall, imposing man enters the room, with the confidence of someone who knows exactly the effect he has on any environment. His golden brown eyes fix on me like a well-aimed arrow, and my heart skips a beat, as if it had been struck.
My hair stands on end, from the tips of my ears to my tail, which begins to twitch nervously, as if it had a mind of its own.
Mark.
Flashes assault my mind, snippets from the night I almost died.
Oh, heavens! He was the one who saved me, wasn't he?
With my luck, who else could it be?
Of course, the most feared man in our community!
The one I called a hothead in a stupid joke, just because I was too nervous. The same one who, annoyingly, makes every part of me — human or feline — tremble uncontrollably.
If he knew it was me in here, after I dared to provoke him with that joke, I'm almost certain he would have left me to die.
And now... now he's coming to get me.
Literally.
His big hands are there, ready to grab me. Heat runs down my spine as if someone had turned the internal thermostat to maximum power.
Mark holds me with surprising care for a brute like him. Despite his gigantic arms and intimidating appearance, his movements are incredibly gentle.
"Let's go home, sweetheart," he murmurs, tucking me against his chest.
Despite my panic, the warmth of his body makes me purr and close my eyes.
Suddenly, it's like I'm on a ride at an amusement park.
Mark spins me around in his arms with a sharp movement, and dizziness hits me like a wave.
Instinctively, my claws extend, digging into something soft.
It's only when the metallic smell of blood reaches my nose that I realise what I've done: I've pierced the skin of his arm.
Oh, stars in the sky!
My heart races, and I quickly retract my claws, holding my breath as I wait for retaliation, for the inevitable roar of his fury.
But nothing happens.
No sound of pain escapes his lips, no sudden gesture, no word of reproach. He just continues, steady and unshakeable, holding me against the solid warmth of his chest, as if what I did hadn't caused him the slightest discomfort.
Until his golden eyes meet mine, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.
"For a small, cute little thing, you're quite skittish, aren't you?" he murmurs. "You're safe now, kitten. There's no need to be afraid."
Of course I'm afraid!
He still hasn't realised I'm human, I need to escape before he finds out. He'll be furious if he knows I deceived him, even if I didn't mean to.
My body gradually adjusts to the swaying as he walks out of the clinic. His steps are heavy, rhythmic, echoing in the silence of the nearly empty car park. He takes me to the car and opens the back door.
Wait, let me go! I want to scream, I want to beg him to listen to me, but all that escapes my throat are meows.
Frustration eats away at me as my mind spins out of control, searching for a way out, anything. My body, however, betrays me. I am limp, every muscle useless and inert, as if it has given up on me.
Mark settles me into a car seat with disconcerting care. He checks every lock, adjusts the belts, making sure I'm securely fastened. The sound of the door closing with a sharp click echoes in my ears, sealing my helplessness.
Seconds later, the engine roars and the car begins to move. Fear is a crushing weight on my chest. I am being driven away by someone who has no idea who I am. And I can't say anything to change that.
After what feels like an eternity, but must have been only a few minutes, the car slows down.
My gaze fixes on the cul-de-sac that unfolds before us, a quiet area on the edge of the forest. The neighbouring houses are ordinary, with well-kept lawns and standardised facades, but there is something different about the gate that stands at the end of the street.
It belongs to his property. The house itself cannot be seen from outside.
To enter, he rolls down the car window and types a password into the panel next to the gate.
A mechanical click sounds and, with a smooth movement, the gate opens automatically.
As the car moves forward, I sense something in the air. It's almost palpable, like electricity. A wave of energy runs through my body, making every hair stand on end, but instead of cold, I feel a comfortable warmth.
Magic.
It seems to be a protective spell. Or at least, I hope it is. Because if it's something to keep me trapped here, well, then we have a problem.
I peek through the windscreen and finally see the house appear on the horizon. It's a cabin surrounded by nature, with tall trees protecting it like sentinels. I don't know why I'm surprised; he looks like he lives secluded in the middle of the woods.
Mark parks and gets out, opens the back door and picks me up, with the same gentleness as before. I try not to think about how disconcerting this is, considering his size.
Considering his reputation for being dangerous.
I am carried along the path that leads to the cabin, the scent of fresh wood and a slight hint of smoke filling the air around us.
My eyes scan the place as we approach: the wide, inviting porch with carefully polished wooden steps; the large windows adorned with dark curtains that hide the interior; the peaceful silence, broken only by the sound of our movements and nature. It is an isolated but beautiful space.
My head rests against his arm as he climbs the porch steps with firm, careful steps. The movement should be reassuring, but all I feel is a strange mixture of vulnerability and discomfort. My body is on its side, with my stomach facing down, so that the wounds on my back are not pressed.
"Welcome to our home, kitten," he says in a deep, casual voice. "I hope you like it here."
I meow in response, meaning that I won't be staying long enough to like or dislike anything. As soon as he puts me down and gets distracted, I'll...
But then he enters the cabin, and my thoughts cease.
I am faced with a space so cosy that, for a moment, I find myself thinking that maybe it wouldn't be so bad to stay here for a few days.
The living room spreads out in front of me, dominating the ground floor with a rustic charm that looks like something straight out of one of those winter films. A huge leather sofa occupies the centre, facing a stone fireplace that, even when unlit, exudes a feeling of warmth that I can almost feel.
Between the sofa and the fireplace, a warm-coloured rug covers the wooden floor, and just above it rests a plush pet bed.