The Hunted

Chapter Two-Avyanna

Aching muscles and sore feet plague me as I finally emerge from the forest. After a month of constant travelling, countless attacks from hunters and rogues and unprosperous hunts, I had finally arrived at the city. Moon Rising pack, the royal pack, and the most dangerous part of this entire journey. I needed to cover my scent, to hide the branding forced onto me at birth.

I knew of a tavern that didn’t ask questions and didn’t care about the answers, run by the dwarf giant Titan. Pulling the hood of my cloak over my head, shielding my face from view, I head towards the tavern, hoping the wolves don’t catch my scent. Circling down alleyways, shifting between the shadows, I finally made it to the Beanstalk Tavern.  

Warm light escapes through the rickety windows, only blurred shadows and shapes can be discerned form outside, concealed by dust, water marks and condensation. Thundering laughter, clinking jugs and hearty music escapes through the small splintered gaps of the door. Quickly scanning the area, I push the disjointed door, its rusted hinges creaking loudly under the strain, causing some of the patrons to turn with intrigue before returning to their conversations or drink.

Rough wood grazes my callous feet, reminding me to buy a pair of boots, not wanting to stand out anymore than I already did.

Tables are filled with all matter of creatures, enjoying a pint of something putrid. Sweat, alcohol and testosterone linger in the air like a thick mist, choking my lungs. On the far wall a roaring fireplace crackles and splutters, smoke rising up through the chimney and out into the evening sky. Its warmth circulates the cosy room, comforting my tired and aching body. A man sits on one of the tables, serenading the guests with his lyre and silky voice, telling the story of the humans. Some sing along, raspy voices mingling with his smooth one.

I turn my attention to the disinterested man behind the bar, his large boots perched precariously on the bar top, counting coins in his hand while he leans back on his chair. He is hunched against the wall, too large for the small space. Salt and pepper hair is tousled messily over his dirty face, a dishevelled beard covering his porous skin. Scars litter his aged face, mixing and blending with his wrinkles. His eyes are a faded blue from cataracts, squinting to see the coins he counts intensely.

Clearing my throat, the giant grumbles, continuing to look at his coin, completely disinterested in me or my business. The only way to get his attention is to talk his language.

I pull a bronze coin from my purse, slamming it loudly in front of him, his eyes finally lifting from his meticulous counting. A devious smirk forms on his cracked lips. “Two months”, nodding he removes his boots from the bar top, shifting his weight forward to get closer to me. “Make it a silver and I won’t ask questions”, his breath is hot on my face, alcohol and decay fanning over me, choking me. Nodding I remove the bronze coin and place a silver coin in its place, grimacing at his corrupt expression.

Pocketing the silver, he returns to his original position, throwing me a rusted key, disinterest filling his features once more. His head gestures to the uneven stairs behind him. “Fourth room on the right”, his voice is even more disinterested than his expression, having already added the silver to his collection.

Pulling the cloak tighter around me, I head towards the stairs, stumbling on their dishevelled surface, splinters and cracks tear at my feet, rough and uncomfortable on my skin. At their top is a dark corridor, lit by a single torch on one wall, the floor just as uneven as the rest of the place, leaning slightly to the right.

I find the door mentioned, grimacing at the broken fragments of moulded wood around the lock and handle. This place couldn’t be anymore dangerous than camping in the open forests, only accompanied by a siren in the nearby rivers. The lock clicks twice, the door opening with a painful groan as its hinges struggle against the weight. A stale smell of sweat lingers in the air.

Against the far wall is a double bed, straw filled linen mattress and pillows with a linen overlay and sheep skin cover. A small decrepit window sits above, covered in dust and condensation. Bedside tables with a small lamp on the left adorn the side of it. Beside the door is a dresser with a mirror above. A door on the right of the room leads to a bathroom. The piping had been saved from the time of the humans allowing for running water and a functioning toilet, if I woke up early enough, it might even be warm water.

It is more pleasant than I’d anticipated, surprised to find a bed at all, it would be more than enough for the time I needed to spend here. Throwing the cloak over the bed I inspect myself in the mirror. Dark chocolate hair falls in tangled waves down my back, stopping just above my hips, fading blue eyes tainted by exhaustion and malnutrition. Faded bruises quickly dissipating beneath almost healed scratches.

I could be easily identified as a praedam just from seeing me. I needed to fix that first.

Shuffling through the bag given to me by Conan I find a brush, clothes and a pair of boots I wished I’d looked for sooner. There were also some soaks and perfumes made by the pack herbalist.

Pulling off the loose corset, the draped linen relaxes, allowing me to pull it away with ease. My nude skin is warmed by the rising heat form the fire downstairs, replacing the discomfort I had expected to feel. In the bathroom I run the water, filling the bath provided with freezing water that bites at my warm skin as I submerge myself.

Shivering, I use the soaps to wash any dirt and dried blood from my hair and skin, washing away the earthy smell of the forest and replacing it with cinnamon and vanilla. The sweetness envelopes me, removing any sense of my home, camouflaging me. I brush the tangles from my wet hair as my body adjusts to the cold liquid, now easing my sore limbs.

When I exit the bathroom any remnant injuries from my journey have healed, the scent of my home hidden and my hair brushed out into silky waves lapping at my damp skin.

I pull the soft white linen blouse on, tying the strings on the chest, before pulling on the black leather trousers. Tucking the blouse into the trousers I secure everything with a black corset, ribbed with iron plating to provide some form of armour while in the city. I blush at how the corset pushes up my breasts, making me appear busty and curvaceous. Finally, I pull on the black leather boots, lacing them up my calf, still wishing I’d known about them sooner.

Applying a light honey perfume, I deem myself respectable and almost safe to head downstairs to celebrate my successful journey and meet my disguised ally.

The boots echo against the hard wood, each step bellowing down the corridor. I struggle to hold my weight on the stairs as they lean and bend at awkward angles, not fully supporting my weight. I couldn’t imagine anyone bigger attempting these treacherous traps. Letting out a sigh of relief at the bottom, I head over to the only empty table, intrigued eyes following my every movement.

The table is against the back wall, beside the fire, allowing me a full view of the room, a perfect vantage point. I study the patrons of the tavern, watching their grotesque faces contort with laughter or anger at their wins or losses at a game of cards. Piles of coins exchange hands, scraping across the tables violently. A certain captivating bar maid makes her way over.

Thick torrents of curly red hair fall over her shoulders and down her back lazily, stopping at her waist. The fiery mane frames a pretty face with angular features and plump lips, dazzling emerald eyes peek out through long lashes. Her bust threatens to escape the confines of her revealing outfit, a slender waist accentuated with a tight corset and a long white dress clinging to her slender curves. It’s her face and piercing eyes that gives her away, swimming with lust and deceit. A breath-taking siren disguised as a stunning bar maid.

Nereida.

A soft smile forms on my lips as I stifle a chuckle, her eyes glistening mischievously, a devilish smirk on her plump lips. From the steel tray perched on her arm she brandishes a chalice filled with something sweet, handing it to me gently before winking and heading back over to a table of gambling Faeries.

I lift the chalice to my lips, swallowing the sweet liquid and recognising its taste. Moonberry wine. I savour it, swirling it in my hand as I continue to watch from my table. I needed a willing victim, perfumes and soaps only worked for so long, I had to mask my scent with another’s. Ariadne snarls in my head, sickened by the idea of smelling like anyone other than herself or her mate.

We only need to do it once Ari.

Doesn’t matter, I hate it.

It won’t be anything heavy, I promise.

I don’t care. It’s wrong.

Either we do this or we die, which would you prefer?

I roll my eyes as she sulks, burying her head between her paws. My eyes catch a somewhat handsome man in the corner, a smirk growing on his lips as he studies me. I take another sip of the wine, batting my eyelids seductively. Ariadne growls before imitating sickness.

Curly blond hair falls just below his shoulders, pressed up against his thick shoulders. Intimidating blue eyes sparkle with mischief between his game and I. A blue cloak covers most of his body with a fur lining over his shoulders and a gold insignia on the back. He’s a royal guard. He looks young, maybe twenty-four, with a prominent scar running from his jaw, down his neck and beneath the cloak.

He looks to the floor and the back to me, taking a long gulp from his jug. Go time. I stand up slowly, walking over timidly, never letting my eyes leave his. It feels so wrong, making my stomach churn, a painful ache deepening the closer I get. Seating myself beside him I giggle, pulling out a few gold coins and signalling for them to deal me in. A condescending chuckle emits from his chest and it takes all of my strength not to roll my eyes.

“This is a mans game sweetheart, but I can think of a game we can both play”, he winks, smirking as he takes another sip of his ale. His friends laugh heartily, nudging each other playfully. I plaster a sickeningly sweet smile on my lips, feigning innocence before pushing my coins into the middle of the table, batting my eyelashes playfully. Laughing he signals to the dealer to do as I asked, the crooked man places three cards in front of me faced down, three facing up and three to hold.

I had played this with the soldiers on numerous occasions and I knew I was still unbeaten. This wouldn’t be any different. I play dumb, looking at my cards and sticking my tongue out, feigning exaggerated concentration. The men all look between each other chuckling and gossiping quietly. I make out some profanities and vulgar comments, choosing to ignore them before I threw up. My willing victim runs his foot against my ankle.

I continued to play dumb throughout the whole game, winning and claiming my prize. Pocketing their coins, I shrug and offer an innocent smile, pretending I was just lucky. They seem visibly agitated but don’t take it out on me, believing my evident lie. Nereida leans over, handing us more drinks, each man watches her hungrily. We exchange a knowing look before she saunters away, the animals still eyeing their prey.

Leaning over to my victim, I place a hand on his thigh, the contact making me feel nauseous. I close in, nearing his ear and whispering seductively before pulling him up and leading him towards the stairs, I can feel his excitement as I feel the nausea worsen, a pang of guilt and hatred stirring in my chest. I just needed to get this out of the way.

Once we’re up the stairs and out of sight, I slam him hard against the wall, dust falling from the ceiling, disturbed by the impact. His hands find my waist, my vision blurring with frustration and anger. Nothing heavy, just his scent. I push down the sickness overcoming me and pull him down violently, slamming his lips onto mine. I hide the gag in my throat, wanting this to be over.

When he tried to take control, I slam his back harder against the wall. I try to avoid touching him, placing my hands either side of him on the wall. His tongue tried to find its way to mine, I bite it hard before clenching my jaw in discomfort. He was somewhat handsome, he didn’t smell disgusting and he only tasted of ale and fading mint. But he wasn’t my mate. I tried to shield Ariadne from this, to build a wall between us so she wouldn’t feel any of this.

She welcomed the wall, whimpering behind it.

Once his scent had completely coated me, I pulled away, wiping my mouth. “Where you going sweetheart, we were just getting started”, his voice is a husky growl, making my stomach convulse violently. “No, I think we’re done here”, I turn to walk away, but his hand grabs my wrist, spinning me back around and violently throwing me against the wall, more dust displacing.

“We’re done when I say we’re done”, his face nears mine, his hands pushing against my shoulders in a hope to keep me contained. I kick his knee, knocking it backwards, a violent crack echoing down the dim hallway. A bellowing growl escapes his chest as he stumbles forwards, only being met by a heavy punch to his jaw, spinning him away. He stumbles against the wall, whimpering and growling, his eyes now an empty abyss of black, clouded by anger.

He tries once more, limping and wrapping his fingers in my hair, pulling me downwards. I wince as my head hits the floor, his giant body now on top of mine. Ariadne roars to life, destroying the wall between us and taking control of my body.

My hand tangles in his shirt, exciting him momentarily, before I headbutt him as hard as I can. Dizzy from the attack I can make out the blood gushing from his nose as he stumbles backwards off of me. I lift my leg, my boot colliding with his chin, another sickening crack echoing down the hallway. Now terrified he pushes himself as far away from me as he can, realising he can’t win.

“f*****g psycho b***h, he struggles to his feet, holding his broken nose and limping on his dislocated knee. I hold my head in my hands, nursing the bruise I got from his nose before jumping to my feet, anger clouding my vision completely.

That could have gone worse.

Don’t worry Ari, we won’t do it again.

I kind of want to kick his ass again?

Not doing any of that again, we’re trying to avoid attention.

Fine.

I growl as the lock clicks twice, the door screaming as I enter, collapsing onto my bed with exhaustion. The sun has completely disappeared, cloaking the room in darkness. Stupid little delta gave me a headache. Groaning, I unlace my boots, throwing them onto the floor, next removing the uncomfortable armoured corset and relaxing onto the surprisingly comfortable bed.

My head feels exactly as I should have expected, throbbing as the bruise healed. My muscles slowly relax, adjusting to the feeling of a bed, my eyelids getting heavy as sleep finally approaches. I would not be doing any of that again. Ever.

Curling into a ball I wait for sleep to overcome me, excited to welcome its dark embrace. That was until the door burst open, a fiery red head staring at me with an amused expression. Groaning again I turn over, still nursing my headache and not wanting to banter with my friend. Maybe tomorrow.

Instead of saying anything, she closes the door as quietly as she could, locking it and walking silently over to me. She slips into the covers beside me, her arms wrapping around me and pulling me in to her comforting embrace. “I’ll kill him tomorrow Avy, he frequents the lake”, she chuckles evilly as she pulls me in closer. Her warmth surrounds me, only bringing sleep closer.

“I covered for you with Titan, he won’t ask questions”, I nodded, placing my hand on her arm, hoping she knows how thankful I am for her. As we lay there, my eyelids finally close, my muscles relax and that blissful sleep overcomes me.