Daughter Dearest...Why Is There A Werewolf In Your Bed...?

His mouth twisted into a smile that made me stare for a few seconds before remembering how to react to threats. Just like Aunt Shylah had taught me.

I jumped onto the bench and aimed a kick for his face. He stumbled a little, but didn’t seem like he was hurt. Just surprised. I quickly turned to the window that had been next to me and put my hand on the cool glass.

“Effrego,” Thank God Aunt Shylah had taught me a few spells. The glass shattered outward, sending shards into the street. They bounced and broke into smaller pieces.

I jumped out of the café, a shard of glass cutting into my scalp, right arm, and cheek. I held the cut on my upper arm as it bled with a little more force than would have made me comfortable.

I looked both ways on the street, trying to find someone who could help me. Call the guard or something. I saw no one. They had emptied out the entire city block most likely.

How was that possible? I didn’t bother to think that through as I ran for the path back to the castle.

I wouldn’t be able to concentrate hard enough to call out my wings, bleeding had that effect on me. I could hear their light footsteps on the ground behind me. I tried to call out my wings. I felt the skin squirm, but the wings wouldn’t break through.

I vaguely remembered a charm that froze time for a while. “Enough time to make an escape,” Aunt Shylah had said.

I couldn’t remember.

Panic now bubbled in my gut as I saw their shadows stretch before me. The sun was at my back as is slid, mockingly slow, below the horizon. My feet were getting heavier, but I pushed forward. I could make it. I could scream for someone.

I saw a figure at the mouth of the forest lane that lead to the castle. I waved my uninjured arm at them as the other one had numbed a while before. The person seemed to just stand there as I waved more frantically, the panic eating it’s way up my throat so acidic I could scream. The blood from my scalp slipped down my forehead in a ticklish stream. It went down the bridge of my nose before dripping onto my lips. I was more aware of the burning sensation on my face as the scratch burned. My arm hung useless at my side.

I saw it in their shadows before it happened. The shape that looked like James crouched down and I could almost envision his leg muscles coiling under his jeans. His shadow flew into mine and grew smaller.

As I ran I watched in horror as the shadow grew larger until I felt a body knock me down. We skidded across the cobblestones, more scrapes added to my growing list of injuries. I squirmed and tried to get myself out from under him, but another one stepped on my leg.

I kept fighting, trying to get him off my leg before he did what I knew he would do. But it was no use.

After a loud, sickening snap echoed through the still, silent air of the abandoned part of town, I didn’t have time to draw in a breath to scream. James smashed my head into the stone to make sure of that.

My last thought?

Where to now?

The throbbing in my face was the first thing I felt. The aches and pains came back one by one. The stinging scrapes and cuts on my cheeks and legs seemed to be worse then I remembered. The adrenaline rush had left me a while ago and I was exhausted. I couldn’t lift up my head as I gained consciousness.

I was careful not to alert anyone to my awakening and instead listened. I felt the dried blood on my nose and resisted the urge to scrunch my nose to get rid of the uncomfortable tightness. Then I felt the pain in my right leg. The sharp pain of a crushed leg, most likely fractured in multiple places. I withheld the scream swelling in my chest.

Concentrating on the area of pain, I called the warmth from my core. I felt the bits of bone moving back into place, piece by piece. The pain lessened and I let it become bearable. I didn’t want them to comeback and see a fully recovered, conscious person that they could torture.

A sudden realization hit me. Who had been the person at the mouth of the lane? Why hadn’t they helped me? Were they used for a distraction or a prepared ambush? I pushed the thoughts from my mind and concentrated on the more pressing issues.

Like where was I and what did James want with me?

I was sitting up right, but I didn’t hear the dripping of water on a cold stone floor so being in a dungeon was out. I didn’t hear any voices anywhere near me. I dared to open my eyes a centimeter to look through my lashes.

I was in the middle of a room. I realized that my arms were bound behind me and I was leaning on a support pole in the center of the room.

Dread began to fill my stomach as I thought of the idea of torture or ransom. The distinct cliche of a finger in a box almost made me shudder.

I let my eyes close again and controlled my breathing. Another sharp pain filled my chest. It must have been a bruised rib from when he tackled me to the ground. I kept my breathing even as I heard the distinct noise of a door being unlocked and opened. Footsteps were muted on the throw rug on the cement floor.

Okay, so not a dungeon, but maybe a basement. I felt their steps vibrate through the floor. Or maybe that was the side-effect of the adrenaline rush from before. I could feel the air as it moved around them with each step closer they took. I heard the rustle of clothing and could imagine the person crouching in front of me, searching my face for signs of consciousness. I wouldn’t be able to keep this charade up if they tried to test if I was responsive.

So I scrunched my face, knowing that it would make the scratches on my face burn. I fake-gasped in pain and tried to move my arms only to take in a hiss of air as the bruised ribs ached. I opened my eyes and looked into a pair of dark brown ones. Shaggy hazel hair just brushed his eyelashes as he peered at my face with innocent curiosity.

He placed the bowl of slightly steaming water on the floor next to me. In his other hand was a washcloth that he dipped into the water. He brought it near my face and I cringed away. He sighed and sat down with a small “oomph.”

“I know that this isn’t the best way to start things off. I mean, meeting like this. Not a good way to inspire trust,” he sighed again and then stared directly into my eyes, “I’m Noah.”

The name tugged at something in the back of my mind, but I couldn’t place it.

“Rayne.” My voice was gravelly from not using it far a while. I cleared my throat and only flinched slightly when the warm towel touched my face.

Noah stayed silent as he wiped the dried blood off my forehead and nose. He carefully cleaned around the cuts and scrapes on my cheeks. Pausing every so often to dip the towel back into the water and wring it out.

Slowly, the water in the bowl became more and more red. He soon followed my line of vision as he noticed how tense I was. Noah smiled sheepishly and pulled the bowl out of my line of vision. He pulled a dry towel out of the back pocket of his jeans and carefully dried my face off.

I noticed that he was wearing a vintage t-shirt, so worn the words that used to be on the front were now illegible. The jeans he wore had small rips here and there and had faded grass stains all over. He stood up and took the towels and bowl of bloody water just as the door behind him reopened.