5. The Gods Don’t Answer Prayers
Haera
With a deep sigh of pre-emptive satisfaction, she tipped her head back and raised the mug to down the wine. Clink . The sound of the metal base as she set it back on the table. She froze. Her eyes bugged out of her head. She flinched backwards, hissing as her elbow collided with the back of her chair.
On the worn, wooden table before her, was a large bundle of blood red roses. Roses that hadn’t been there a minux ago. Or a segund ago when she raised her wine to her head. Her pulse was skittering loudly in her ears, and fearing the worst, she raised her head, searching the room frantically for anything else that was out of place.
Everything was exactly as it had been in the peripheral view of her vision, right before her head had tilted fully up to the ceiling. Her head snapped back to the roses in front of her, and she recoiled again like she had been stung. The hairs on the back of her neck were all on end, and the chilling grip of fear travelled all down her arms, back and legs. The hairs on the rest of her body were standing. All her nerves were jangling.
The Shadow was not in the room with her. Their achingly familiar scent – dark, threatening and smoky like charred wood – was entirely absent. The room still smelled like the remnants of her Arujun. She closed her eyes for a moment, then immediately thought better of it and forced them open. It wasn’t safe enough for her to close her eyes and try to make sense of her situation the way she usually did. It wasn’t safe at all.
There was no way someone could have gotten close enough to leave these roses in the moment it took for her to down the pint of spiced wine. It was churning in her gut now, her throat still burning from her downing it all in one go .
A dark, damning howl from the Loriax dragged her attention away from the bundle of roses, and panicked tears immediately burned the back of her eyes. Her heart was in her throat. Her hair whirled around her head as she swivelled to look outside. The first star was in the sky.
Launching herself from the table, she knocked over three chairs in her rush for the door. The roses – they were firmly in her hand. For as much as their sudden appearance was a mystery her mortal brain was struggling to reconcile, they were beautiful. Her small gloomy cottage could use some life. She hoped that they were some sort of sign of hope. A sign that she would make it home in time. She crashed through the door, slipping on the ice that had turned to slush at the doorway. As soon as she righted herself, she bolted down the street in a full out sprint, chest heaving, lungs working overtime as sweat crept down the back of her neck. She had never been more grateful for snow boots or for speed.
The hairs on the back of her neck were standing at attention once again, and her body temperature spiked as adrenaline surged through her, pushing all the resources in her body to her core, powering her short, quick strides. Her speed in human form was only so quick, even for being a werewolf. But shifting was out of the question – rogues no longer had that privilege. If she was caught in her truest form, she’d have an even higher price to pay. Buildings, lights and the forest across from her whipped by in a blur. If she could just get to the end of the street before they began their chase, she would have a chance at making it home unscathed. A small chance – and only if they were in the mood for a run and not a true hunt.
Footsteps pounded the earth just behind her, and her heart squeezed painfully. Just fifty more paces –
“Ah!”
The scream was ripped out of her throat, electric pain shooting through her as a four-hundred-pound werewolf slammed into her dead-on from the side, sending her flying into the trunk of a tree fifty feet down the road. A broken sob was on the verge of leaving her lips, but it immediately gave way to another scream as a clawed paw sank harshly into her hair, drawing blood from her scalp and staining her snow-white hair as it closed around a handful of strands to yank her to her feet and forward to face a body.
She was surrounded by werewolves in their most beastly form. Six foot tall, upright, standing on their hind legs. Their teeth were bared in leers and grins, already bloody from a previous hunt. The one that had its grip on her hair stood behind her, his hips pressing into her back as he yanked her head back to look up at him .
“You’re quick, little rabbit.” He sneered, leaning down to her ear and sniffing her neck. “But I’m much quicker.” The words came out in a growl.
Haera winced at the pressure in her scalp and closed one of her eyes as blood dripped down into it from her scalp.
“Every time you run from us, we let you get away.” He continued, sliding a clawed finger down her throat to hook around her windpipe. It pierced through her skin, drawing more fresh, hot blood.
She bit down on her lip, hard, swallowing back the screams for help that instinctively wanted to slip out. There was no one to help her. These same werewolves were the ones who had protected her, along with the rest of her pack, from attack just two syrises ago. Her father had fought among them, but that was before he had died – before she had been rejected. Tears spilled over her cheeks as she stared up at the bared canines above her, her head still pulled back in his grip.
“And every time we let you get away, we want to taste you more the next time.”
Haera’s eyes widened as the wolf’s tongue swirled across his lips. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, even though he knew well that the circle of jeering werewolves around them could all hear .
“Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle, little rabbit.”
Her heart dropped into her stomach when laughter erupted around her while he dragged her away, towards the forest.
“We’ll all be waiting for our turn.” Called one of the werewolves still standing in the circle. That comment earned him another round of jeers and laughter.
Haera fought against the pulling as the werewolf dragged her, but his claws only pressed deeper into her scalp. Rivulets of blood poured down the back of her neck and into her eyes. A strangled whimper escaped her against her will, and a deep rumble of satisfied laughter erupted from him as he dragged her along behind him.
“You are already making those delicious little noises, and I haven’t even spread your legs yet.”
Haera could hear the sloppy sound of him licking his lips and realized that he was salivating at the thought of violating her.
“White hair, white eyes. I bet your pretty cunt tastes like fucking heaven, little rabbit. You certainly look like heaven.”
Tears blinded her, and her heart threatened to stop beating. She wished it would. She wished there was a way that she could make herself die. She couldn’t go through this again. She wouldn’t live through this again. Her further attempts to escape only caused her more pain, as he dug his claws deeper.
“I can’t wait to sink my teeth into your neck while you take my cock.”
Her heart stumbled again as she dug her feet into the snow, trying to resist his forward pulling.
“Your resistance is only making my cock harder and harder, little rabbit. My promise to be gentle is slipping through my grip.”
Haera went limp. She would have fallen face first into the snow if his harsh hold in her hair hadn’t been there. A desperate sob was building in her throat. They were near the line of trees. She could smell the spicy wood that produced the Arujun she had just drank, and she could feel it coming up her throat as she projectile heaved into the snow, only to be dragged through it face first. Her skin itched like there were sores just below its surface.
She was out of options. She trembled as he dragged her over the threshold of the forest, the ground beneath them changing from squelching to firmer snow, the temperature much colder between the trees. Escape was not likely. Her only option was to take whatever came her way. In a final act of thoughtless desperation, she whispered a prayer to the gods she had cursed on this same dahy two syrises before. “ The gods want nothing to do with us mortals. And they most certainly want nothing to do with me." The memory of her own words was loud between her ears, louder than the prayer she was currently whispering.
“Magnificent Master, hear me now in my desperate houyra. I seek this aid of you with true devotion, O light in the heavens. Absolve me with your holy soul.”
A loud laugh echoed around them into the forest as the werewolf yanked her forward and side-swiped her feet so she fell flat onto her back. He knelt over her, forcing her legs apart so that his hips settled between her thighs.
“That is endearing, little rabbit.” He snarled, ripping at the layers of snow clothing she had slid into earlier that eveng. “But the gods don’t answer prayers.”
Her last thread of hope broke.