FINE LINES
1393 Words
Carlos arrived before the sheriffs. The smell of fresh blood had assaulted his senses before he had arrived at the scene, and the scene was gruesome, if you were human. Carlos was certain a demon was in Riverhead; he had just never been able to track it down in time. There were two bodies here, one female with her head decapitated, sliced right off with what looked like a kitchen knife. One grossly overweight male, his eyes plucked out and genitals ripped off, his head twisted at an unnatural angle so his spine poked out.
Carlos had seen this couple around Riverhead. Nasty people. Cruel in petty ways. But even they didn’t deserve this level of c*****e.
And no human could have done it.
A faint scent drifted beneath the gore.
Wolf.
Carlos lifted his chin and eyed the dark outline of the mountains.
There, breath, heartbeat, the rapid panicked gallop of something young and untrained.
A beast on the run.
Not in my territory.
Carlos launched into the trees with supernatural speed, silent as a shadow.
He hunted with the ease of someone who had outlived whole empires.
The crash of undergrowth led him straight to the creature, pure black fur, lean, powerful legs, and a crescent-moon mark glowing white at its throat. No pack mark. No leash. No control.
A beauty.
A disaster.
A wild thing made of fear and instinct.
He stayed hidden in the branches, watching.
The wolf staggered, confused, pawing at the ground like it hated its own skin. It circled once, twice, then collapsed into sleep.
The shift was slow. Painful. Bones cracking, reforming. The air was filled with it.
Then she lay there...
A girl.
Barely fifteen.
Soaked in blood that wasn’t hers.
Long black hair.
A fighter's build.
A killer’s aura.
Carlos’s interest sharpened. He had never seen a wolf this young shift without a moon. Most didn’t survive their first change without a pack. Yet this one had slaughtered two fully grown adults like they were paper.
Sirens howled through the forest. He heard them turning into Tavern Forest Road.
He clicked his tongue in annoyance.
Time to tidy up.
He glided back to the crime scene, slipped into the sheriff’s mind with a whisper of glamour, planting a story of a rogue bear attack. Humans would lap it up. He knew full well tonight's events would be all over the Riverhead Times for the next few weeks.
Then he returned to the girl.
She hadn’t moved an inch.
Breathing shallow.
Skin pale beneath the blood.
She’s coming with me.
He swept her into his arms, careful with her limp weight. His cold fingers traced her cheek, painting her face with streaks of dark red.
“What happened to you, vicious little mystery?” he murmured.
Dawn wasn’t far over the horizon; time to get underground.
His compound was close.
And his dungeon was there.
She would sleep there while he rested beneath the earth.
He had plans. Questions.
And maybe a use for her.
It was a little after sunset, and Carlos sat watching this creature. She still had not awoke.
An enigma to a degree, dumped as a baby, and no leads as to her parents. An array of foster homes, Phil and Alley being her latest, but no constant ties that he could trace. She was a young wolf alone. It made no sense; wolves needed a family structure.
A lone wolf could easily succumb to madness and turn rogue; he wondered if that was what had happened to her. She was powerful; most wolves won't shift until they are at least eighteen, with the full protection of a pack to guide them, and under a full moon. Yet here she was, barely fifteen, fully shifted, no moon, and had caused a blood bath.
He sensed the shadow behind him before she spoke.
“You think she’s a good fit for our operation?” Selina’s voice slid across the room like a sharpened whisper.
“Maybe,” Carlos replied without looking at her. “Power like hers doesn’t appear without purpose. And no one seems to care if she dies or disappears. A little killer. A little mystery.”
Selina stepped forward, violet eyes gleaming with cruel interest.
“Maybe she won’t wake. Maybe her mind snapped from what she unleashed.”
Carlos finally turned. “If she wakes, I’ll be watching. Closely.”
Selina’s lips curled. “You always were sentimental about broken things.”
Carlos smirked, though his eyes sharpened. “You would know.”
Selina White was the chief hand of the Shadow Finger Squad, an elite team of supernatural assassins and spies. A position Carlos had bestowed upon her.
The assassins trained at the Golden Keep in the Shadowlands. All under the rule of the three Dragon Kings.
Selina was more killer than kitten, but under Carlos’s gaze, she looked both innocent and lethal, platinum hair falling like moonlight, catsuit hugging every deadly line of her body. Her beauty was a deception; her heart was ice, her soul a weapon.
Carlos approached her with slow, hungry arrogance.
“Selina, we all lose our minds sometimes. Trust me on this one.”
Those violet eyes lingered on the unconscious girl.
“She’s dangerous. And I don’t like competition.”
Carlos was in front of her in an instant, pinning her to the wall so hard the stones cracked behind her.
“You will not touch her,” he growled against her throat. “Not unless I say.”
Selina’s answering smile was vicious.
“Oh, you’re protective. How adorable. Are you planning to keep this one, too, Carlos? Like you kept me?”
His hand tightened around her neck, dangerous, possessive.
“You’re mine. She isn’t.”
Her breath hitched, fury and desire twisting together. “You still claim dominance over me after letting me go?”
“I am your maker,” he whispered darkly. “I will always own you.”
Her legs wrapped around him before he even lifted her, bodies colliding with raw force.
“You think power makes you mine?” she hissed, but her voice shook with anticipation.
“No,” he murmured. “This does.”
Their fangs slid out in the same heartbeat. Selina bit him first, hard, brutal, claiming. Carlos responded with a savage growl, sinking his fangs into her shoulder, pressing her harder into the wall.
She moaned, violent, hungry.
He felt her tremble, a mix of rage and desire.
“You belong to me,” he said.
“I belong to no one.”
He slammed her into the wall again, hard enough to crack stone.
“Say it.”
Selina’s nails carved down his back.
“You want obedience?” she taunted breathlessly. “Then earn it.”
He kissed her then, dangerous, consuming, closer to a fight than a kiss. Their mouths clashed, fangs scraping, blood mixing. The air vibrated with the tension of two ancient predators who loved each other only in the ways that hurt.
“But she isn’t yours,” Selina whispered, eyes cutting toward the sleeping girl. “If she survives, she could be stronger than any wolf alive.”
“She will be powerful,” Carlos said. “But not yours to tamper with.”
Selina smirked. “So she’s special already.”
Carlos tightened his grip on her jaw, forcing her eyes to his.
“She is off limits. Not because I care. Because I decide what lives and what dies in my domain.”
Selina laughed softly, dark, sensual, furious.
“You still think you’re my master?”
“I know I am.”
She shivered when he said it.
Two nights passed before he let her go.
Violent, addictive nights.
Nights where dominance blurred with desire until even immortals forgot the difference.
The wolf girl upstairs was forgotten until dawn crept across the stone floors.
But when Selina finally left, lips bruised, hair tangled, violet eyes still burning...
Carlos knew the truth:
Selina would kill to keep his attention.
And the wolf girl, if she survived the night…
She might be powerful enough to threaten them both.
Carlos looked toward the stairs, toward the unconscious child whose power had shaken a town.
“Wake up, little wolf,” he whispered. “Let’s see what you are.”
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD