I kill time in the gym, attempting to get into a book and sketching. Praying for the curfew to hurry the fuck up. Plugging the leak. Even the way he said it, his icy eyes full of malice makes me want to shudder. Ervin avoids me the rest of the day thankfully but I still have Vera trying anything she can. “What are you drawing, can I take a look?” she cooed, leaning over me. Her hand rests on my shoulder, a blonde ringlet landing against my cheek. “Oh it’s a house! You clever thing! Has Hope been giving you lessons on the quiet?” "Nope just a hobby," I correct her. "Shame, if she'd taught you how to draw people I'd have asked you to try and sketch me!" a tinkling, obnoxiously flirtatious laugh landing flat. Goddess if she thought I was going to sketch her, those beams have twisted her mind more than I thought. I’ve found my skills are absolutely not in portrait. I can’t draw a person. No matter how hard I try to capture Hope I don’t have her talent. However, it turns out I am no
Cal assures me Ervin’s threat was real. I should probably be more scared, but when he is there, how can I be? One look at the power in his body, the intent in his face. He’d kill for me. I have no doubt in my mind he would do whatever it took. Which is crazy really. I forget about everything when I’m with him. My father has disowned me yet I end up twirling, parading my silky nightwear to Cal. Revelling in my body's shivers of anticipation as his eyes meld between navy blue and brown. I never rocked the boat or really pushed Ryan's buttons. I was already turning into someone meeker. A flame sputtering, struggling to find its oxygen. He made decisions, and I went along with them. Telling myself it’s part of the mate bond. I didn’t fly off the handle, not like Cal makes me. Perhaps the Goddess wants to extinguish the bigger, more annoying aspects of my personality. Maybe that’s why she paired me with Ryan. Smooth out the kinks. Staring at the sleeping man beside me, I struggle to see
We’re only a couple of days away from the Full Moon and I have no idea what I’m going to do. The fourth full moon underground with no monks pepper. The excitement of the darkness has gone now. I can’t go back in there, no matter how much people try to explain the lights coming on as a strange fluke.It wasn’t. I just know it.Someone is getting their kicks from our reactions. Well not someone. Cyrus. He somehow rigged the lights to come as he was a hero. He took care of Quinn and her injured face like a kind, benevolent giant. He called me his angel.It all added up. The notes. The way everyone here judges him.But every night since then my dreams have tortured me. Sven is thankfully doing better. Again, Cyrus saved the day with his gruesome-sounding gut twisting deep dive. Then I remember Cyrus was the one who swiped half his abdominal muscles away in the first place.As much as I try, I’m struggling to pair the Cyrus who guarded me, who tenderly kissed my arm and treated me so prec
I’m sticking to my side of the deal. I remain his enforcer. I monitor, I report. He can’t hurt me if I shut all the feelings down. I've learnt my lesson the hard way.The cruel dreams I've had where she approaches me in white, seeking me out with love, not fear in her eyes. What else is there to think of her as but an angel? My knuckles are still red raw. I couldn’t handle myself for the first few nights after it all fell apart. In the room with the cells, where Mireille was first locked up, there is a separate annexe. While she slept, I had time to stare at the walls far too long and noticed the odd outline.It opens with a concealed metal mechanism. I don’t know who else knows about it, but so far, those small square metres of space are my only sanctuary from Raze. And now from Mireille.I am careful not to go there too often. Raze can't know every move I make. After all, I am the rat in his latest game.Will I go mad and kill everyone? Or will I keep quiet and survive at any price
How long are you meant to have flashbacks for? Every night I wake up sweating. Cals mangled, broken wolf bleeding out on the floor. Elvie stood tall with her shotgun, more than ready to aim it at myself. It’s not even a nightmare, really. It’s not a distorted image of the past. It all actually happened. They left that damn klaxon sounding for days. It was utter pandemonium. Lockdown was upon us all. Without even a word Reu slammed on red flashing warning lights as well as the klaxon, appearing with his own weapon, a matter, black machine gun. Those lights were for a cave-in, a Rogue attack. Imminent death. I guess it was appropriate seeing as the pair of them looked ready to shoot me in the face. Pointing the stub of the bulky machine gun at me and the others he snarled in fury, "Rooms. Now. You're all under lock down." My father was known as the mad, dangerous one. Reu was meant to be icy cool. Icy eyes, icy nature "But Cal! He needs help, he's bleeding why the fuck did you
My eyelids flutter open and I’m staring up at a grey ceiling. This isn’t my room. The bed is cold and hard, a thin mattress failing to disguise the metal underneath. My head is pounding but I think whatever I’ve been given has numbed me from feeling my wrists and ankles. Gingerly lifting them up it’s clear I’ve made a complete mess of myself. “Hello?” I feebly cough. “Hello?” Then I turn my head to the side and realise exactly where I am. In the cells. The silver bars enclose me and I am ready to scream in outrage all over again. On the floor waiting for me is a tray with food and drink. So their answer to my struggling with the lockdown is to increase the harshness of it? “Bastards,” I mutter before shutting my eyes and willing myself back to the quiet sanctuary of sleep. When I wake up again the lights have dimmed. So it’s night time. I know that much. My wolf must have been busy healing me. I flex my maroon, blood-encrusted limbs without too much pain. Still laid on the metal b
The whole conversation with Raze felt like an out of body experience. Expecting his true colours to show at any moment, like a coiled snake. Except he was so different. Friendly. Kind. Dazzling. His short blonde fuzz on his head must be irritating him, he constantly ran his hands over it. Nerves? The sign of a liar? Or maybe I’m just clutching at straws that Cyrus is anything other than a vile piece of work. “I think she needs some space,” Quinn murmured, tugging softly at Dee’s elbow when I returned. Shaking my head I looked into their concerned eyes, “Yeah…yes. I’ll see you in the boiler later. ”“We can cover you,” Dee offered but I shook my head. “I’ll be there. Honestly, it was just a bit intense but nothing bad happened. It was about the notes. Did…did you guys receive them too?”They looked at each other. "Not since the riot. When we fell out."Biting half of Dee's ear off, no mere fall out as I remember. There is still dried blood on the wall to remind me of that night."Wh
I slowly climb down from the carved stone ledge. Only Raze knew I hid here. When I told him about the moonshine makers, he wanted to know how I discovered their scheme.This means he told Mireille where to find me.I could send myself mad trying to work out the implications of who told who what. Why would she go back to see him? It's not the full moon until tomorrow. Will she go back again for that foul-smellling tea? How much of his bullshit did she fall for?I breathe in and enjoy her fresh, mountain air scent for a second. Raze had made everything so complicated, so twisty. It's all to make me fall on my ass. Try to contort myself around a web of lies. All in pursuit of a future I know is not mine.So I'm not playing. I spent hours trying to think of some crafty, dirty trick I could use and came up with nothing. I don’t have any. It’s not who I am.I'm just going to be me. For better or worse. "No wonder I could never find you," she murmured, tracing her way along the shelving.