Midnight End

1 “Get out,” I spat with every ounce of venom I could muster. “Go tell your master everything you’ve learned and leave me alone.” A smile curving his mouth, my treacherous companion stepped closer until he was a breath away from me and lowered his face toward mine. “The name is Knight, and I’m not going anywhere.” “Fine!” I hissed. “Stay if you like, but I’m out of here.” I whipped around and stormed from the house, slamming the door behind me. Childish, I know, but I was pissed with little other means for expressing my bubbling anger. “Freaking mutt thinks he can waltz into my prison and just claim the upper bunk,” I muttered to myself as I tore down one of the forest paths. “I’ve got news for Scooby-Doo. I’m getting off this Alcatraz whether he’s here or not.” What a cluster f**k. The one and only time I ever told my plans to another living soul, and the furry mongrel I’d chosen as my confidant sprouts vocal chords. That hadn’t been the only change. Fido had transformed into a red-blooded man—from his gloriously sculpted shoulders, to his rippling abdominals, down to his powerfully built legs—one-hundred percent man, and one-hundred percent naked. Every square inch was on display, and he was just as comfortable in his skin as he had been in fur. The consummate predator. Confident. Aggressive. Unpredictable. My mouth went dry at the sight of him. As if stealing my secrets wasn’t enough, his miraculous metamorphosis was also a painful reminder of just how long it had been since I’d enjoyed a taste of the opposite s*x. Hell, even the men I had been with seemed like boys compared to the raw masculinity that wafted off him in waves. He was two-hundred pounds of panty-melting, drool-inducing, jaw-dropping man. Long wavy hair hung just past his broad shoulders, the strands a fascinating blend of salt and pepper—something that was never seen in the ageless Fae population. It was as if he had worn the white wolf’s coat so long, he had retained a touch of its coloring. I supposed a thousand years just might do that to a person. There had hardly been any precedent that might explain what to expect after such a long stint as another species. I wasn’t even aware such magic existed, but I had lived long enough to know that nothing was impossible. The white strands of hair hadn’t been the only part of the wolf he’d retained. Knight’s eyes were so golden they glowed like a blood moon cresting over the horizon. I had gone to sleep with a wolf in my bed and woken in the arms of a man. It had been those mesmerizing eyes that told me the wolf and the man were one and the same. Not just the color, but the shrewd intelligence in their depths. I should have known there was more to the beast. His remaining facial features were obscured beneath the heavy growth of a full beard. The rest of his body had been unabashedly on display. With the lean muscle of a skilled hunter, his form was a breathtaking study in the contours of the body. I couldn’t help but think, as I had stared at the naked man before me, such perfection simply wasn’t fair. How was a girl to maintain normal brain function around such beauty? There are some who would have argued with me, saying the man was gruesome because of the scars covering his body. At some point in his life, someone had permanently marred his skin, disfiguring his perfection. Not just once or twice, but hundreds of times. His god-like physique was marked with innumerable scars where the skin was shiny and texturized. His arms, legs, and torso—all covered with a multitude of s***h marks. As a wolf, his fur had hidden the evidence of his wounds, but as a man, the scars were plain to see. The Fae healed quickly, so I couldn’t imagine the brutalities he had survived to bear such everlasting reminders. Merlin said the wolf had been held prisoner by Red Caps, a vicious caste of Unseelie, wicked to their marrow and capable of unthinkable atrocities. Clearly, the wolf-man was familiar with their work. The knowledge that he had suffered might make a weaker woman feel pity for him, but not me. He had survived. If anything, it added a certain appeal to the man. It didn’t mar his perfection—it spoke to his inner strengths. Those marks were a testament that he was a worthy adversary. It would serve me well not to underestimate him. “Like you did when you opened your big mouth and ratted yourself out,” I grumbled to myself under my breath. I had known better than to give away my secrets. But how was I supposed to know Merlin’s lapdog for the past century would miraculously transform into a man? Unlike the stories in human books and movies, animals didn’t just transform into people and visa-versa, even in Faery. It didn’t matter. Whether I had spoken the words to a dog or a potted cactus, it never should have happened. Weighed down by my foolhardy mistake, I sighed with frustration and slowed my punishing pace. No matter how harshly I chastised myself, it wouldn’t change my situation. I screwed up. For a month, I had been stuck in this luxurious prison without so much as a soul to talk to, aside from Merlin’s brief visits when he came to check on me. I blamed temporary insanity for my lack of discretion. I liked alone time as much as the next girl; but after a month alone, I was about to start talking to the birds like some kind of f****d up Disney princess. There’s a reason prisoners are punished with solitary confinement. It sucks. When my furry friend came along, I gave into the weakness—the need for companionship. I said more than I should have, and Merlin’s lackey would undoubtedly blab what he’d learned directly to the almighty Fae sorcerer. It would complicate my life immeasurably. My chances of succeeding with my plans hadn’t been great before, but now, they were downright abysmal. My heart ached in a way I hadn’t experienced in ages. The piercing pain in my chest helped dull the frozen throbbing in my fingers and toes from the crisp morning air. I had burst from the house in nothing but a satin nightgown. While my agitation had initially sent ample fire through my veins to keep me warm, as my temper settled, the cold had wrapped its icy tendrils around me.