Whispered Promises

Hands around my neck.

The fingertips squeeze, finding its way through to pressure the grooves of my throat. Whoever’s choking me is shrouded with shadow. The only thing that I see are two clouds of ash, streaked with dirt. Was that a smile, flickering in and out?

I couldn’t tell.

My own hands aren’t there when I call on them, to try and get this silhouette off of me. It’s like they are somewhere else, or not mine. Or simply glued to the ground, and I was nowhere near strong enough to move them a single inch.

Then the fingertips suddenly turn to claws. The tips of them break flesh.

Blood pours.

My eyes fly open.

Someone is holding my hands. And I’m on a bed, the back of my shirt firmly stuck to my skin with how much I’d sweat. My tongue sits like a ton of bricks in my mouth. It feels as if I haven’t spoken in the last decade.

The Alpha holds me. His large hand is wrapped around both my wrists. His eyes are a steady stream of gold, brilliant yet haunting. He’s in bed r