I Was Raised To Kill My Mate

Chapter 4: secret In the Dark

Sera’s POV.

The woods virtually swallowed me up like some huge enclosure; all the trees appeared to be dark sentinels keeping a close eye on each and every one of my actions. I had knotted hands that had been caught up in great ropes and whenever I moved I had to do it with extreme care--as though anybody cared. Jayce possessed that iron hold on my arm that made me think I could not get out.

Jayce Medical: Jayce grinned, only a little, letting you know he did not mean it seriously] You are fatter than you look. He sprung his golden eyes above me as though he were feeling at each little touch, each response.

“I..don’t, think you understand!” I hissed, and fought with him. “I’m not your prisoner! I’ll never…”

He tightened his hold and I retreated. Oh, I see rightly enough, he said, with a low and rather reproving voice. “You think you can fight me? You think you can escape? Wrong. Wrong. You’re mine, Sera. Always.”

It was a wolf in me, beginning to yell, scratching his nails at my head. “Mine?” That was a word that lit a fire in me, which I did not want to confess.

As best I could I attempted to get away, the ropes slicing through my flesh. I will kill you, I said, with my teeth set. Provided I must creep over every hell of this forest... I’ll—”

I believe you have heard that, I said to myself, said I believe you have heard that, and the growl in his voice increased the tightness of my chest. “Your threats mean nothing. But your fire…” Thick with something unsaid he hung the words there. “That fire is irresistible.”

I froze, staring at him. Twists in my stomach, half disgust, half a heat that I will not show anybody. It was something deeper--some other thing--that my wolf shivered.

Silently we moved along after that, and the forest was a different one as we entered the territory of Blackridge. Trees were tied up, my cloak was caught in the thorns, my boots were sucked out of the mud. The atmosphere was still heavier, the shadows darker. Danger, I said to myself, everything was danger, yet I could not take my eyes off him.

“Why are you really doing this?” I insisted, everlasting shouting. “Why take me? Why not just leave me?”

He glanced at me as if he were going to smile briefly. My father was a mean man, he said and he spoke very, very low as though he was telling himself. “He… made mistakes. Horrible mistakes. Ember Village--your family... it was not all my decision to make.

I froze, heart pounding. His expressions were general but stoned. I would have liked to split him down the backbone of saying it, and yet there was a part of me, horrifying, infuriating, that dared believe him.

“You expect me to feel sorry?” I growled. “After everything?”

I have nothing to anticipate, I said. I only, I only want you to realize that not everything is as it looks. His eyes looked through mine, hard, and I thought there was a moment of something defenseless. Then it was out of the way, and in its place was that same alpha supremacy of which I was afraid.

We came to an edge with a murderous prospect of the Blackridge pack’s territory. All jagged cliffs heaving into fog, a silver-glimming river below. I barely noticed. I was interested in him--in every detail, and how his hand came close to me, and yet commanded. The way he interpreted my looks, as he might have read my mind.

When I speak, look at me, he commanded.

I obeyed, and my eyes were narrow.

You are different, he said to himself. “More than I expected. Stronger. Wiser. And yet…your wolf…” He smirked faintly, teasing. “She’s drawn to me, isn’t she?”

I bristled, and my cheeks flushed. “She is not,” I snapped. “I am not, my wolf is not—”

Halt, lies to thyself, and flash, flash, flash, heaven knows, gold of thine, said he. “Your wolf knows. You know. You want this, too, deep down, as much as you hate me.

I turned my back, frenziedly closing my fists, and my wrists were cut with the ropes. “I hate you!” I shouted, voice cracking. “I’ll never—”

He went too near and I stiffened. He was like a source of heat, and it burnt my skin. Hate me, all you like, whispered him, in a low, personal, dangerous voice. But it’s no use denying what comes between us. You belong to me, Sera. We have had your fire, your wolf, your heart, all of it.

The words sliced through me. My wolf tore at my heart, ripping in my head, struggling to get out. Desire fought rage. Hatred, longing. I felt dizzy, torn, angry.

I attempted to pay attention, attempted to drive him away, though that could not happen. Each action he made made my chest tight. My stomach burned. My wolf whimpered, and I had to give in, to receive what my mind was unwilling to say.

“You…” I whispered, voice trembling. “You’re insane.”

He smiled, slow and dangerous. “Maybe. Or perhaps I am only aware of what mine is. And his hand touched mine, not cruelly, but sufficiently to send a shiver. My wolf snarled, tore his nails in my breast. The fire that he caused was not mine to control.

We went still further into the woods till the shrubs fell upon an open space where the fortress of Blackridge was glaring down on us, like a grim watch-tower. The walls were coarse and black rock rising and coming like claws. The air was smoky and iron-y and power-filled. My chest tightened. I hated him. I feared him. And yet… I could not help but admire the manner with which he moved about, the manner in which he kept his eyes focused on me, protectively, possessive, all at the same time.

You will remain here at present, said he, which liberated me to such a degree as to permit my walking with him. “Do not try anything foolish.”

I glared at him. Believe thou that with ropes and threats I shall be prevented?

He jerked up his head, smirking at his lips. “No. But perhaps, this, he pointed to the woods, and the precipices, and the battlement, will make you remember to whom you belong.

My blood boiled. My wolf screamed. And yet… I felt a pull I couldn’t resist.

We came to a little hut at the wall of the fortress. I opened the door and was reluctant to enter due to the warmth. He withdrew and gave me admission, and I stood still in sight of it.

It was… domestic. The fire in the fireplace, plain furniture, a bed well turned down. It would have made me relaxed, but I found myself stressed even more. This was his domain, his regulations. And I was trapped inside.

He made another study of me, with golden eyes flitting with delight and other things. “Sit,” he commanded softly.

I obeyed, heart racing. Every nerve is screaming. My wolf came near because it knew the danger and the… attraction.

Fear, he said, and it was low and near. “But your wolf… is curious. Hungry. And so are you.”

I stiffened. “I am not—”

Cutting me off, he said, Shh. There was a moment of softening of his gaze. “I won’t hurt you. Not yet. Not if you trust me.”

I wanted to spit in his face. My wolf snarled and his claws itched and he was about to jump. And still... It was a queer comfort to be around him. Secrecy, jealous, neurotic. Dangerous. And why I can tell not, I wanted it.

The moments were spent in silent suspense. I was seated in front of the fire, with my hands trembling with adrenaline and anger. Jayce was circling the cabin, silent, careful, yet all movement brought back to me the fact that he was on the lookout, ever on the lookout, determining.