Marked By Him

Chapter 2

From the shadows, a werewolf emerges. It is big, bigger than any werewolf I have ever seen; it is so big it could crush me under its weight. Its fur is as black as night. Its hungry-filled eyes burn like fire, blazing red, and its canines are so sharp they could tear me to shreds.

My body is unmoving. I’m rooted to the spot. No matter how hard I try to move my body, I’m still motionless. With my heart pounding so hard and fast in my chest, I watch with wide, fear-filled eyes as the werewolf circles me, its prey, snarling and growling and sniffing at me.

Fear washes over me, and I can’t believe that this is how I’m going to die: mauled alive by a werewolf. Just like… I snap myself out of that train of thought and focus on trying to move my body before I become this werewolf’s dinner.

The universe must hate me, I think. Because, as if things couldn’t get any worse than they already are, there’s more growling, and it is not coming from the werewolf circling me. My body tenses and my heart skips a beat. s**t, there are more of them. Two werewolves, their thick furs grey, stalk towards us from the shadows, with razor-sharp claws and saliva dripping from their lips as their tongues brush against their sharp glinting canines, red eyes focused on me, their prey.

I swallow thickly.

Mr. Big Wolf stops circling me, only to stand in front of me, growling at the approaching werewolves—in warning, maybe? The werewolves, snouts, wrinkled and canines bared, growl back at Mr. Big Wolf. I steady my frantic breathing and try to move my body again while Mr. Big Wolf is distracted, but I still can’t move my body. I feel tears sting my eyes, threatening to spill down my cheeks.

Mr. Big Wolf, with his extended claws digging into the earth, stands strong and steady and lets out a growl so deep, so loud, I feel it deep in my bones. I shiver. The two werewolves whimper, tuck their tales between their legs, and turn around, disappearing back into the shadows.

What the hell was that all about?

I don’t allow myself to think too much about what happened; instead, I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and focus on moving my legs, arms—my whole body. Maybe the universe doesn’t hate me after all because I’m able to move my limbs. I break into a run without a second thought. I don’t look back, don’t dare to, because that’s going to slow me down. I know it’s following me; I can feel it. Adrenaline courses through my veins, and I push my legs forward, my steps pounding in time with my heart. And because of the dark, I almost run into a tree. After running for what seems like forever, I slip on wet leaves—or maybe on mud—and fall, getting muddied. Get up, get up. I stagger to my feet and continue running, my heart slamming against my ribcage. Beads of sweat roll down my forehead, and my legs feel like they’ll explode; my throat feels like the Sahara Desert and my chest burns. I seriously need to start exercising if I survive this. A growl from behind me makes my heart jump. It’s close.

And then, just as I am about to dive behind a tree to hide, a blow to my head makes me fall to the ground, mud getting all over my face and in my mouth. I spit it out. The hard fall makes my head spin and causes my vision to go all fuzzy. When I try to get up, I slip and fall back down again. When I try to get up again, I get dragged by my feet, large hands gripping my ankles.

No, no, no!

“Let go of me!” I shout. “Help! Help me!”

The hand on my ankles disappears. Before I can scream again, a hand grabs me by the neck in a chokehold, and the words die in my throat. A face—a f*****g devastatingly beautiful face! —fills my vision.

“Shut the f**k up,” the strange, and yet handsome man, hisses, “or I will kill you.”

Where did he come from? And where’s the werewolf? Oh. Oh. It’s then that it dawns on me that the werewolf must have shifted to his human form. Even in his human form, he’s huge—he’s all muscle.

He lets go of my neck and I gasp in a lungful of air, coughing. He drags me my feet again, and I start screaming and kicking to free myself from his hold. He grunts, curses under his breath, and lets go of my ankles to probably choke me again, but I scramble to my feet and run. I don’t get far, though, because he pins me down on the ground, something sharp scratching the palms of my hands. I try to get up, ignoring the sting on my palms, but he’s too strong. I dig my fingers into the grass, grab some mud, and throw it as his eyes, momentarily blinding him. And with a grunt, I get up and run.

“STOP!”

With a gasp, like the air is knocked out of me, I stop dead in my tracks.

A sigh, and then— “You sure put up a fight, don’t you?”

I feel my eyes sting, and then tears fall down my cheeks. I can’t move my body again. I can’t— Why can’t I move my body?!

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for you?” f**k, his voice is so deep. And what the hell is he talking about? He brings his hands up to my face, his thumbs wiping away the tears, but that only smears the mud even more. I can’t even turn away from his touch—and why does his touch feel so good?

“I need you to take off your hoodie,” he says—a command. “And hurry up before more come.”

More? More what? More werewolves? But I can’t ask any of these questions because my arms are too busy moving on their own accord, as if my body has a mind of its own. I take off my hoodie, which only leaves me in my graphic t-shirt.

“I’m sorry I have to do this,” he says, and oddly enough, he does sound like he’s sorry. Which leaves me thinking: What is he going to do with me? And with that thought, fear seizes me because: Is he going to kill me now?

He touches the back of my neck and tilts my head to the side, my neck bared to him. His eyes—amber eyes, I realize—zero in on my neck. And then he leans down, his warm breath fanning the area between my neck and my shoulder. A shiver runs through my body, and in the next second, he bites down, teeth breaking the skin and blood flowing out. A scream rips out of my throat, and my vision goes blurry from the searing pain. My knees give out, and I slump forward, breathing ragged. He catches me before I can fall to the ground. I feel a press of lips on the bite mark.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into my ear, voice soothing. “It’ll be over soon, I promise. Sleep now.”

That is the last thing I hear before everything goes black.