There were thin slices on my breasts, thighs and belly. I glanced at my arms and saw some on my biceps. Some were prick marks from where the tips of his claws had held me. The beast had been relentless all night, but he must have done something to me. I had reciprocated, but it was like an out-of-body experience. I had screamed at myself to stop, but the raw hunger inside my belly had wanted more.
“What the fuck?” I whispered to myself before I walked to the small window.
There were three wooden cabins, and they weren't far. I glanced around the room for some clothes, almost rolling my eyes when I saw socks and jeans lying on the floor. It seemed it was a universal habit of all men to leave shit on the floor. I caught sight of a wooden wardrobe and rushed towards it, yanking it open and grabbing a shirt off the hanger. It was massive, and I wasn't exactly a size zero.
A fucking wolf. What the fuck was happening here? There were no cabins on any map I’d seen unless it had taken me to a different location when I’d passed out.
My hands trembled as I fastened the last button. The room had the stench of sex and sweat. I winced when I thought of Liam, angry that he chose to play his stupid game rather than come with me.
The door suddenly unlocked and began to open. The slow motion caused an eerie creaking sound. I frowned when I saw an old woman with dark grey hair wearing a long black dress. Her head snapped towards me, and my jaw dropped. The creepy bitch had white eyes. There was a smudge of grey on her forehead. Her colouring was as dark as mine, but she was painfully thin.
“Who the fuck are you?” I said, eyeing her up and wondered if I could attack an old woman to escape.
“So you're the one who survived,” she murmured, glancing at my naked legs before her eyes met mine.
She had a faint Indian accent, but her pronunciation was perfect.
“I am Shayamal, the compound's…protector,” she said, walking towards the bed.
It was only then that I saw she had brought food.
“Protector?”
“I’m a witch and you are not at all what you seem,” she said, turning to inspect me again, but this time with speculation.
“A witch?” I scoffed.
Great witches and werewolves. What was this? A Grimm fairytale or a horror story?
“I’m called many things around the world,” she said with a smile while I glanced at the open door. “I wouldn't advise it. Garrick has unfinished business with you, and I am keen to see how this plays out.”
She was ancient. Her face reminded me of polished, cracked leather, but it was smooth and silky.
“Is Garrick the wolf?”
“His wolf’s name is Valor, but his human side is Garrick.”
“I don't care what he wants. I need to leave,” I said, determined to get the fuck out of this—cult.
“Not quite yet, my dear,” she said with a cackle and floated toward the door. “I will see you soon.”
The door slammed shut before I could decide what to do. She gave me the creeps. I shuddered, thinking of her eyes. With a sigh, I walked to the tray of food. There was a glass of orange liquid. I picked it up and sniffed at it before I took a sip. It tasted a little like a mango milkshake but with a slight tang to it. My mouth watered at the fragrant scent from the meat curry and flatbread.
A witch or not, she knew how to cook good Indian food.
???
I groaned when I woke up disoriented and with a heavy head. The room was pitch black. The bitch had drugged me. That scrawny creepy bitch was getting throat punched if I saw her again. A low growl from the other side of the room erupted from the silence, and I saw two luminous eyes peering in my direction.
The wolf.
“Valor?” I whispered its name.
It stopped mid-growl, and I held my breath, swallowing at the same time. He moved, his claws scraping against the wooden floor. The sound made me clutch the covers as my eyes adjusted to the dark. There was a faint hint of light coming from the window.
The moon. Of course, he is a fucking wolf, Mercy.
“You don't need to do this,” I said, but the growling resumed, and this time, I felt it vibrate from my belly to my core.
