His Captive Mate

Chapter 7 – Celine

Her birthday party was a smash hit. One of her male cousins had broken his leg trying to do something he’d called ‘break-dancing’. He’d healed in under ten minutes, but he’d still gotten an earful from his mother. He remained seated for most of the rest of the evening, his mother watching him very carefully. The bonfire was lit just before the sun went down, and just after it was dark enough there were fireworks in honour of her mother.

Celine was pulled up to the area just in front of the sound system and the line forms in front of her, as all of her family stand to present her with her presents. She’s given so many things, most of which would have to remain here until she can return, being too large or heavy to travel with. Including her own van, decorated by some of the cousins. Michel and Eloise gave her a new suitcase, and then hand her an envelope. Eloise speaks to the crowd,

“Many of us have contributed to the cost of your flights and other tickets to get where you’re going. We have also included some spending money, in pound sterling!” The assembled family gently groan at the thought of her being in England, this is followed by some good-natured laughter. “Celine, my beautiful niece. We wish you the best of adventures, and hope that you will return to us safely.” Her family cheers, and various glasses are raised.

The last to come to her was her father, and when she opens his gift, she sees a set of wireless earbuds, ones that would stay in your ears even during exercise.

Two days previously her father had come storming into the kitchen in her aunt and uncle’s house around breakfast, sat down next to her, grabbed her hand, and then demanded to know what she would want for her birthday. He’d had no clue, and he’d been trying to figure out the right thing to give her for weeks. Now she smiles and puts her hand on top of his,

“Papa… Thank you.” Celine said, a broad smile across her face, her cheeks were aching after all of this and tears were threatening to run freely down her face. She turns to the group assembled and speaks clearly, “Thank you, everyone. I know I leave tomorrow and I will be incredibly sad to leave you all.” Her family all groan again, but she could see more than a few people who were dabbing at their faces with napkins or sleeves. Her father nods,

“Well said.” She smiles, and turns back to the crowd,

“But I will return, and I expect another party when I do. Just as good as this one. I am immensely proud to call you all family, and am so grateful that you have been there for me and my father when we lost my mother, Nicolette.” She paused to take a shuddering sigh, and took her father’s hand “But the moon is high, the sun low and I would love to invite anyone who would like to join me and my father on a last run around the estate. We will leave shortly.”

Everyone let loose a howl then, raising their call to the moon. The children, too young to have a wolf yet, would run as fast as they could alongside if they weren’t already in bed. Clothes fall to the ground all over the courtyard, most people stripping off quickly before shifting. Some of the younger ones, too eager to wait, just ripped off their clothes. Celine throws her clothes over the back of her chair and kicks off her boots, shifting effortlessly.

Most of her family’s wolves were traditional shades of grey and brown, with a couple of black and one almost white. But Celine’s wolf was brindled, her fur was a mixture of all of the colours, mottled all over her. Which was unusual for any wolf. They did a full lap of the estate as a group, and as they neared the château again some peeled off and headed for bed, feeling the worse for wear, or just tired from the day.

Others left to check that their children were in fact heading to bed. But Celine, her father, her aunt Eloise and Uncle Michel did a second full lap, slower this time, stopping at the edge of the property near the river. They sat together, still as wolves, just enjoying the quiet moment. Nothing needed to be said in the moment.

When the moment had passed, they returned to the château for their clothes. They then walk back to the small cottage that was her home more than anywhere else on the estate. Her father joined them at the cottage for her last night. She slept well having run off a lot of the nervous energy that had been building in her body for days now.

“Right, you have everything?” her father asks, for the umpteenth time that morning, it had started from the moment she brought her new suitcase, already packed, downstairs.

“Yes papa, I have everything I could need.” Celine sighs, also for the umpteenth time, although she had started out appreciating his concern, she had gradually gotten more frustrated each time he had asked. She knew he was stalling, but she was ready. They were at her gate at the airport, her father Aunt Eloise and Uncle Michel had come with her to see her off. She hugged them all tightly “I’m ready. Now I’ve got to go or I’ll miss my flight.”

She smiles at them all and turns to board the plane. The flight was just over two hours long and she lands at London Heathrow. As she leaves the terminal there are a few people with placards with names on them waiting to receive various people who had been on her flight. She scans for the one with her name on it, and when she finds it, she takes a moment to look at the man holding it.

He was a six-foot tall, wiry-looking man. He had short sandy-coloured hair greying at the temples swept back to show his face and was wearing cream trousers with a tan leather belt and a green t-shirt with a tweed suit jacket over the top. He also had a leather messenger bag slung over one shoulder and was scanning the people coming from the plane. He was quite a lot older than her; she guessed somewhere in his forties. She waves and walks over,

“Hi, I’m Celine du Travere.” She spoke in English, unsure if he would know much French.

“Ah, hello. Welcome to England, I’m Dr Solomon Ward, but you can just call me Solomon.” He replies, looking relieved, “I’m afraid I don’t know any French at all, so I’m glad you speak English. Do you have all your luggage with you?” She smiles and nods,

“Yes, this is everything.” He folds the sign he had been holding into his bag and holds out a hand for her to shake. She takes it and shakes it firmly. He nods,

“Right, the car is right outside, may I take your bag for you? We have quite the journey to get where we’re going.” His smile was warm and she could feel his excitement. She was still feeling nervous about being here. She smiled as she let him take her wheeled suitcase and she turned to follow him towards the exit. He loaded her case into the boot of the car.

His driver opened the rear passenger door for her. He was six-foot tall, bald and clean shaven with one blue and one green eye. He was wearing black jeans, a white t-shirt and braces to hold his trousers up, along with a tweed flat cap. He spoke with a cockney accent,

“If you please, miss.” He holds the door open for her and she nods and slides into the back seat of the car; the air was cool and refreshing after a long flight. Solomon gets into the back with her and the driver closes the door then takes his place in the front, rolling up the partition so that Celine and Solomon have some privacy. Celine wondered why, but just as she was going to ask, she felt a different emotion from Solomon.

At least something she hadn’t picked up on in the airport. Relief and excitement. Then she felt the needle slide into her neck. She hears him say, before the drugs can get to work,

“There, there my dear, just relax and let it do its job. You are even more beautiful than expected, and you came highly recommended.” Her eyes drift closed, and she hears the car door open again and another person join them in the back of the car. She could feel an almost familiar sense of intent, dark, almost hateful. Then her world fades to black as she slides into unconsciousness, her mind a whirl of anger and confusion.