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05
Lying beneath broken mosaic patterns of autumn’s withering leaves, Leya feels something rough brush on the tip of her nose.
The dull, dappling sun spots purple and black hues under her dark eyelids. Her eyes shift back and forth restlessly, soot-black lashes fluttering when the rough tongue is replaced by an insistent, cold paw on her cheek, her nose, her eye.
Meow.
Mustard’s impatient noises pull her from her state of unconsciousness on the forest floor. He whines again, bending low to bop the soft crown of his face on hers, rubbing, purring, then meowing his demands for his unusually late breakfast.
Leya stirs with a sibilant intake of breath, eyes peeling open just as the cat rubs his face on hers once more. He bares his teeth as if threatenin
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“Are you sure you’re alright?” Holland’s worry-filled voice echoes from the other end of the phone. Leya sighs for the umpteenth time despite the slight fluttering in her chest at the prospect of him being worried about her. “I am,” she whispers although her mind isn’t entirely moved by the words that leave her. At his prolonged silence, she opts for a higher pitch in her voice, hoping to convince him and in turn, convince herself. “Really, Holland, I-I’m fine.” Shuffling sounds echo from his side, the opening of a door, ringing of telephones in the precinct. “Christ, Ley,” he sighs and although she cannot see him, his defeated tone paints a vivid picture of the man slumped in his seat, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I should have been there… if I was there-” “It’s okay,” she mumbles while movi
The Cursed Lycan 07
Kairo stands in the small white room that is unfamiliar to him. His rough palm skims over the cool walls, smoothing down the countertops and pausing to press fleeting fingertips against different, odd-looking machinery. His expression flashes from light to dark like schools of fish drifting and casting shadows upon his countenance; awe to intimidation, then slight vexation as he moves from one corner of the room to the next. Kairo pauses before a white looking box, square, with a shadowed glass as the screen. Curiously, he leans down and presses his face to the glass, lips parted and nostrils flaring as his lungs expand with each searching breath. It smells like… food. His wandering fingers press on the
The Cursed Lycan 08
Leya’s eyes flash in the door’s direction, then back at the naked man centred in her living room. He watches her, golden eyes darkening to that of glittering black, like raw hunks of mica under sunlight. “I know you’re in there, Ley!” More pounding on her door. Leya’s tongue darts out and circles her suddenly dry lips. The man does not move from his position, simply gauging her in a sadistic, taunting manner whilst his head tilts in the slightest, ear positioned towards the door. Her stomach clenches along with the rifle she holds. Caught between a hard place and a wall, Leya finds herself requesting of him something she did not think possible; “Don’t move.”
The Cursed Lycan 09
Leya had slapped him. Hard. The intensity of her winding and falling hand had never been more brutal, such that even hours later the skin of her palm still stung. She did not reach for the gun this time around, perhaps realizing that her threats were as empty and baseless as a void drum. Instead, Leya rose sharply as the chair shrilled on the wooden floor and she had shoved him out of the cabin, face flushed in utter horror, body tingling in a manner of discomfort at his blatant, tasteless intimacy. Seeing her expression then - something akin to bemusement and curiosity - stopped the man from resisting her actions. He did not push back with his brute strength and instead let her jostle him out of the house and into the night. There, she slammed the door s
The Cursed Lycan 10
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*slams chapter down on your table* done. enjoy. Shoot. Trapped within the confines of her truck, Leya gazed out the windshield at the two males. Despite the distance, she felt the tension, cold as ice, press on her skin like a blunt steel blade. Her heart did something wicked in her chest, momentarily forcing a smatter of bile to rise her throat and she tasted the bitterness with absolute clarity. Holland stood stiffly before Kairo. The breadth of his shoulders was drawn taut like an overstrung bowstring, stretching the material of his shirt. One hand rested on his waist where the Glock’s glimmering handle protrudes. Leya knew that stance.
The Cursed Lycan 13
*slams down next chapter on your table* *looks you in the eye* you're welcome Scarcely had there been a moment in Kairo’s life when he thought that he had done something wrong. That he was doing something wrong. His moral compass was true North, his ability to determine wrong from right was always a sharply honed blade that drew a firm line on the sand between. The last time he had done something wrong, something so vile, unforgivable, had ended with him punished, raped, and cursed for all eternity. A wretched thing he was, forced to walk the earth with no sense of humanity and forever a beast without memory. He thought that had been the worst day of his life.
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