taming the beast

all hope lost

Chapter 2:

I had no idea how long I had been running.

My lungs felt like somebody poured acid down my throat. My legs hurt like hell. My thighs were bleeding from rubbing against each other. The dress I'd made was in pieces from catching on branches and thorns. There was blood dripping from the gashes on my arms and face.

I could not stop. Would not.

Behind me, I could hear them-the rogues. They caught my scent about an hour ago, maybe less. I lost track of time. All I had was pain, fear, and a driving need to run away.

"I smell her!" a male voice, hoarse and eager. "She is close!"

My wolf was still hurt from rejecting her mate. Rejection had injured her and left her in a ball deep inside me. She could not help me. I ran on human legs, human speed, but that was not enough.

The woods suddenly opened up to a clearing. Moonlight poured down and it was bright enough to see by. For one second I thought I might have been good. Maybe I would find my direction, a landmark, something else to help me.

I watched them walk out from the trees.

Five rogues. All male. All larger than me. They were stronger than me, faster than me.

I spun around, prepared to race back into the woods, but three others stepped out from behind me. Eight rogues altogether. They surrounded me forming a circle. I knew I was trapped. They looked like they had hit the jackpot.

"Well, well, well." The biggest one walked forward toward me. His eyes were blazing with amber light. His muscles were bulging, and scars covered his arms and torso. He wore nothing but a ripped shirt. "And what have we here? A little lost wolf?"

"Not that little." The other one snickered, and soon all of them were laughing. "Just look at the size of her. We will have fun with her all day."

My stomach churned in my gut. I knew what rogues did to she-wolves who they caught alone. I had heard the stories and seen those she-wolves who survived-those that were lucky enough to become survivors.

"Please." My voice wavered. "Please, just let me go. I have nothing. I am no one."

"Oh, you are somebody," he replied, continuing to circle me, like he was assessing his prey. "You are fresh meat. And guess what? I think you will taste wonderful."

he lunged.

I leaped to the side, but it was not quick enough. His fingers dug into my arm and he yanked me back. I screamed and clawed at him and a little bit of blood came up from my nails over his cheek.

"b***h!" He slapped me and the world seemed to spin. I was on the ground, tasting blood. "Hold her down!"

There were to many hands on me; pinning my arms and legs. I struggled, fought, and yelled, but it was not enough.

"Someone shut her up," he grunted, and began to undo his belt.

I knew that I would die, or be saved for so much worse.

A she-wolf who was like me and was rejected, packless and alone. No one would be looking. No one would care. I would fade away into these woods and become another bad story for mothers to tell their daughters.

He lowered his knees beside me and began to undo the shreds of my dress.

Then, his head blew off.I am not kidding,. One second, he was there, looking down at me and spitting it in my face with that putrid breath. The next second, his head exploded, just like someone stuck a bomb in his brain and set it off. His brain, his blood, all of it spattered in my face, in my chest, warm and wet.

I screamed, but that didn't last for long. That sound was overwhelmed by deep, unnatural roars, they shook the trees and caused birds to take off into the night sky.

The hand that held me let go immediately. The rogues panicked and took off in a scramble, but their escape was very short.

Something moved through the clearing extremely fast; so fast I could not follow it. One of the rogues had his chest imploded with a sickening thud. The bones in another's spine snapped audibly as they were forced backwards at an impossible angle. One of them attempted to shift, but he remained a wolf for about two seconds before being ripped in half from the torso up.

The slaughter lasted for less than a minute. Eight rogues, every one of them dead, annihilated beyond all possible recognition to that they had ever been alive.

And in the middle of the bloodied mess stood him.

He wasn't in wolf form but he wasn't entirely human either. Taller than 6'6, built like a brick wall which made Daemon look like a newborn infant and dressed in an all-black ensemble (black expensive enough to buy out our pack house with). His black hair was moderately long and was pushed back from a sculpted, chiseled, stone like face; strong jaw, high cheek bones and a set of perfectly sculpted lips drawn tight in a grim line.

It was his eyes however that were his prominent features.

They were molten gold, much brighter than even a wolf's eyes should be. They were not golden in hue like ambers, nor yellow like normal wolves' eyes were but a true gold, like coins had been melted down and poured in his head and were fixed directly on me.

I could not move; could not even breathe and there was blood everywhere - rogue blood. But it seemed he hadn't even noticed it or didn't even care that his hands dripped with it.

"What is a she-wolf doing alone in my territory?" His voice was rough, a deep baritone that felt like rocks scraping against each other.

My territory. I processed through my shock; this was not neutral ground. I had run into someone's claimed land.

"I..." my voice was a strangled squeak. "I'm sorry, I didn't know, I was just running and-"

"From what?" he took a step towards me and I flinched back automatically. Fresh blood smeared under my hands where the leader's head had been. "Don't run from me, I just saved you."

"I know, thank you; I just-" I didn't know how to explain it. How could I tell someone that I had been rejected, utterly humiliated, and thrown out by my mate, and was now worthless, even to my own partner?

He knelt down and was eye level with me but was still quite intimidating despite saving me. Up close I could see the details, the expensive watch he was wearing and the tattoos snaking up his neck and the white scar slashed across his left eyebrow.

"You're injured" it was a statement, not a question, and his eyes raked over my torn dress, my arms, which were covered in blood, and my face, swollen where the leader had hit me.

"I'm fine"

"You're not" He brought his hand out towards me, and I flinched back. His hand stopped midway. I saw surprise flicker in his expression; he wasn't used to people fearing him? "I won't harm you."

"You just killed eight wolves in under a minute"

"They were rogues, they were going to r**e and murder you" he said matter-of-factly, like he was remarking on the weather. "Wouldn't you have preferred if I hadn't done that?"

"No, no, I-" Tears stung my eyes again; I was so tired, so broken. "Thank you; truly, but I need to leave, I'll get out of your territory. I'm sorry for trespassing."

"And where will you go?"

The question felt like a physical blow. Where would I go? I had no pack, no family, and no money. I was wearing nothing but a ripped dress and I was out in the cold where rogues roamed freely.

"I don't know" I whispered, the admission crushing me.

He watched me for a moment, his golden eyes seeing far too much and then stood up and held his hand out towards me.

"Come with me."

"What?"

"Come. With. Me." he stressed, "I have medical supplies; I have food and shelter; you need all three."

"I can't, who are you?"

"Does it matter? You have nowhere else to go."

He was right, God help me, he was right. Something about him sent a shiver of alarm through my entire body; he wasn't just any Alpha. Alphas didn't move like that, didn't kill like that or have eyes that burned like fire.

"You're not a wolf" I stated softly.

His lips twitched up in a motion that was somewhere between a smile and a sneer. "No, I'm not."

"Then what are you?"

"Lycan."

The word fell from his lips like shards of ice. Lycans were myths; they were ancient creatures, thought to have been exterminated thousands of years ago in the Great War. They were larger, stronger, and meaner than any wolf and were basically...

"Monsters," I breathed out.

"Yes" he didn't flinch at my word or even seem ashamed. "And this monster is offering you a safe place; take it or don't, but make it snappy. The smell of this blood will draw more rogues here and I don't have the strength to kill another dozen rogues tonight."

I looked at his extended hand; dried blood crusted his knuckles, and I couldn't help but be surprised at his casual nonchalance at having killed eight men without a sweat and in a few minutes. He was truly terrifying, more terrifying than anything I'd ever encountered. But I had no where else to go except to walk back into the darkness and potentially be killed or tortured.

But then, his golden eyes met mine and I saw something there other than just sheer terror, something I didn't expect... Not kindness, nor mercy, but understanding. As if he saw that I deserved this more than anyone.

For the first time since the rejection, my wolf moved in me, a small tremor and her spirit urged me forward, she seemed to tell me, 'trust him'.

I took his hand.

His fingers closed around mine and I felt the strength behind the grip and he easily pulled me to my feet.

"Can you walk?"

"I think so."

"Good, it's not far" he began leading me out of the clearing full of corpses.

"Wait!" I managed out "I don't even know your name"

He glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes glinting like molten gold in the moonlight.

"Dante" he said, "my name is Dante Russo"

Russo, the name meant nothing to me, but the emphasis he put on the word caused my skin to prickle, like it meant more than just a name, that it carried some kind of power behind it.

"I'm Vera."

"I know" At my surprised expression he said "I could smell the rejection from a mile off when I got here. Fresh. Someone clearly doesn't know what they have."

It was the stupidest thing and shouldn't have mattered one bit, especially with the events that had just occurred, but it did ease a tiny bit of the burning pain in my chest.He led me through the dark trees; he had a way of moving as if he owned every one of them, every rock, every shadow. Maybe he did. His domain, he’d called it.

It took ten minutes before lights filtered through the trees ahead. It wasn’t a house. A compound. Stone walls, cameras on every corner, guards marching with guns that were a complete mystery to me from this vantage point.

"What is this place?" I whispered.

Dante glanced at me, a genuine smile touching his lips for the first time, his teeth catching in the sliver of light. Sharp. Dangerous.

"Welcome," he breathed, his voice husky. "To the Russo estate. The Lycan family that dominates the entire east coast underworld. And I'm not just any Lycan, Vera. I'm the king of the underworld."

Oh god. What had I just said yes to?