Two
1085 Words
Celeste Gray
A rough voice jolted me awake.
Disoriented, I blinked, the world a swirling mess of shadows. Then, slowly, things sharpened into focus. I was in a dark room, the air thick and stale. Panic clawed at my throat as I remembered – the alley in Elmskeep, Aunt Tifania disappearing, the strong arms that snatched me.
I was bound. My wrists were tied with a rough rope that bit into my skin. Tears pricked my eyes, but fear held them captive. In the dimness, a cloaked figure loomed before me, a silhouette against the sliver of moonlight filtering through a high window.
I scrambled back, scraping against the cold stone floor. "W-who... who are you?"
The figure remained silent, but then, with a swift movement, he crouched down. A large, gloved hand clamped onto my chin, forcing my face up. He inspected me, his features hidden in the shadows. Terror coiled in my gut as cold sweat broke out on my skin. I was on the verge of whimpering, of wetting myself, but fear choked everything back.
He wasn't gentle. He manhandled my arm, pulling it up to examine the bare skin beneath. Murmurs of protest died in my throat, swallowed by the iron grip that held me captive.
"Who are you?" I rasped again. "Please! Let me go!"
He didn't stop at my arm. With a grunt, he grabbed my other wrist, turning it over roughly.
"Quit squirming," he barked.
Flinching, a choked sob escaping my lips. "Please..." I whimpered. "Who are you? What do you want?"
"Silence!" He roared the word, his voice echoing in the small room. It was a command, laced with such raw power that my pleas died on my tongue. Tears streamed down my face now, hot and silent.
"For the gods' sake, stop crying, woman!" He snapped, his voice laced with something that sounded suspiciously like… frustration? "How old are you?"
Terror choked my response.
"Don't wear my patience thin. I asked you a question."
"E-eighteen..."
"That wasn't hard, was it?"
Even in the darkness, I could feel his eyes travel over me, a slow, assessing scan. "This is what thirty gold pieces gets me?" he muttered. "Wretched old woman."
The words hit me like a physical blow. Aunt Tifania. She had sold me. Sold me to whoever this man was.
"What's your name?"
I pressed my lips together, fear keeping me mute.
"Don't make me ask twice."
"Celeste," I whispered.
"Celeste," he echoed, the name rolling off his tongue like a foreign word. Almost...savored. "A pretty name for a meager woman like you. But I have no choice. You'll have to do. I don't have much time."
Panic clawed at my throat. "What are you saying...?" I stammered. "Please... please just let me go, I..."
"Let you go?" He scoffed, the sound harsh and humorless. "I paid for you. You are mine, and you are coming with me."
Before I could react, his hand shot out, the iron grip of his fingers wrapping around my upper arm. He yanked me to my feet, the rough rope biting into my skin as I was lifted off the floor. Pain shot up my arm, and a scream ripped from my throat. With all the strength I could muster, I shoved against him. My bound hands flailed uselessly, my desperate struggles a fly against a hurricane.
"Stop resisting, woman," he growled, his voice strained. "It is useless."
In my desperate thrashing, my hand snagged on the rough fabric of his hood. With a yank, it ripped free, revealing a glimpse of the face beneath. Moonlight cast harsh shadows, but even in that fleeting moment, my breath hitched. High cheekbones, a strong jawline, and lips full enough to be sinful. But it was his eyes…they glinted with a feral intensity, holding secrets deeper than the night itself. My heart hammered between my lungs like a trapped bird.
Then, a growl erupted from him. It wasn't a sound of anger, but something primal, something… inhuman. A horrifying realization dawned on me. This wasn't a man. This was a werewolf.
A noble.
Why would a noble buy a human, a nobody like me? Images of monstrous fangs and a bloody death flashed before my eyes.
Before I could spiral further, the man, or werewolf, I wasn't sure, shook his head in exasperation and released me. I tumbled back onto the cold stone floor, gasping for breath.
"Look at what you've done," he muttered as he inspected the ruined hood.
Without another word, he scooped me up with surprising ease. I was thrown over his shoulder like a ragdoll, my legs dangling. Furious and desperate, I pummeled his back with my fists, but it was like hitting a wall. Every blow met only the unyielding resistance of solid muscle.
The world spun as his powerful strides carried us towards the unseen door. Panic seized me. This couldn't be happening. I wouldn't go wherever he was taking me. With a surge of adrenaline, I arched my back, aiming a desperate kick. My foot connected with something sensitive – a groan escaped the werewolf. Surprised by the reaction, he stumbled slightly, and that was all the opening I needed. I wriggled and squirmed, the momentum causing him to loosen his grip for a fleeting moment. I tumbled to the ground, scrambling to my feet in a heartbeat.
At once, I bolted towards the darkness I perceived as the doorway. "Help! Someone, please, help!" My desperate pleas echoed in the dead of night, swallowed by the thick stone walls.
But the werewolf was fast.
He recovered with inhuman speed, a dark blur against the shadows. A powerful hand clamped around my arm, his grip like a vise. My scream died in my throat as a gloved hand clamped over my mouth, stifling my cries.
The scent that hit me then was overwhelming, a mix of musk and untamed wilderness. It filled my nose and throat, thick and suffocating. He leaned in close, his hot breath tickling my ear. "Try to escape one more time," he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through me, "and I will rip you to pieces. Do you understand, Celeste?"
More tears stung my eyes. He remained there for a moment, his grip tightening almost imperceptibly. Then, to my horror, I felt him inhale deeply, his breath washing over my face.
I could only nod, a single, jerky movement.
"Good," he murmured, his voice a dark promise in the stillness.
- Writer
