CHAPTER SEVEN: Dancer Or Whore

"What?" Aaron spluttered. His eyes were wide like saucers as he stared at the redhead.

Baila glared at him. Now, he chose to pay attention.

"You want to say that I'm your whore?" Baila frowned, confused. She did not understand what Sara was trying to do. Either way, Baila would still end up with the brand of a whore.

"No. A dancer. I had many dancer friends before I became.....well....this. All of them have travelled far away from the city. I could say that you're having money troubles and came to me for help. You can stay here for as long as you want with that excuse," Sara explained.

"Like hell, she can!" Aaron swore, approaching Sara. "You can not possibly think of vouching for her. If anyone ever finds out the truth, you'll be punished or worse,"

"You chose Aaron, why can't I?" Sara shrugged, straightening up and squaring her shoulders to face him.

Baila had never seen Sara behave this way before but she hadn't known her long enough to come to that conclusion.

Aaron grabbed her by the elbow, glaring down at her petite form. Baila looked between them, wondering if they were still talking about her. Nolan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose like Aaron and Sara's confrontation was an everyday thing.

She felt uncomfortable about them fighting over her. But then again, she didn't think they were fighting over her.

"If this is about....if it's about that then it's a stupid thing to do," Aaron hissed.

Sara snatched her hand out of his grip and scoffed. She came to stand by Baila.

"It's settled then," she licked her lips and run her hand through her red curls.

Nolan nodded, he looked tired. The bags under his eyes were more prominent now. Baila felt sad for him. He must have been exhausted.

Aaron shot a wicked glare Nolan's way but Nolan ignored him.

"Fine. Do whatever you want but don't forget, she's a witch. You know what their kind is capable of," Aaron sneered and stormed out. Sara stormed out after him, slamming the door shut.

Baila flinched, squeezing her eyes shut. She was causing too much trouble than she was worth.

"Why was he so angry?" Baila asked Nolan.

He looked up at her. Baila saw the turmoil in his eyes. He was wondering if it was a good idea to tell her.

"It's fine if you don't want to tell me. I understand" she added quickly. He had saved her life and given her a place to stay. She didn't want to push him or put him in an uncomfortable position.

"He loves her. They were mates. He rejected her to serve me and become my beta and captain of my guards. He said she would be a distraction. The bond might be broken but he still loves her," Nolan replied.

"I'm guessing you're not getting married to your mate," Baila muttered. She knew she was treading on dangerous waters but she was curious about Nolan.

"I'm not," he nodded.

"Why not?"

"Because I haven't found her yet and I'm not sure I want to," he replied with a shrug.

Somehow, Baila could tell that he was telling the truth but she felt horrible for his mate. Not every werewolf had a mate. Some of them were not granted the sacred gift for some reason. From the books, Baila had read and from what she had been told, she knew that werewolves who had mates knew it. Somewhere in their hearts and their souls, they felt it.

Werewolves who had no mates felt it too. Usually, werewolves went to great lengths to find their mates. They loved and cherished their mates except for a few exceptions. And right now, Nolan was one of those few. He did not want his mate.

"Can you live without her?" Baila asked. She didn't know why she was concerned for him but she was and the words kept spewing out of her mouth. "Will you be able to live with that hole in your chest? I hear it hurts,"

Nolan chuckled bitterly and hopped off the edge of the table. His bright blue eyes darkened significantly and Baila feared that she had pushed him too far.

For each step he took towards her, Baila took a step back until she was backed up against a wall. Her heart thudded furiously in her chest as Nolan placed a hand above her head.

"I can live without her," he hissed "I don't need nor do I want her,"

Baila nodded her head vigorously. She hoped he wouldn't hurt her. Her eyes shined with tears. At the sight of tears, he backed away from her and shook his head.

"I'm sorry," he apologized.

"There's no need," Baila shook her head and smooth down her skirt. For a moment, she thought that he was going to kill her. He had a very good reason to. She was a witch-a red one too.

The door groaned open and Sara walked in muttering profanities under her breath. Baila noticed how Nolan's eyes lit up with amusement when Sara walked in.

Sara locked elbows with Baila but tensed shortly after.

"Did he make you cry?" she asked, concern filling her green eyes.

"No, of course not. Something got into my eye," Baila denied quickly.

Sara didn't speak but Baila could see it in her green eyes. Sara did not believe a word she said.

"I'll escort her to her room and go about my duties," Sara bowed before dragging Baila out of the room.

Back in Baila's room, Baila sat still as Sara cleaned her wounds. She wanted to send a letter to her mother but needed help with it. The village of Ash was Baila's only option. The village of Ash used to be home to the witches. It was once called Ardena. It was the kingdom where the witches ruled and lived and thrived until witch-hunting. Now, it was the only way witches received letters from outsiders.

All Baila had to do was drop her letter in the old cart in the middle of the village. The witch who collected letters from the cart every week would deliver her letter to her mother.

"Is there a way to get a letter to the village of Ash?" Baila inquired, breaking the silence.

"We haven't communicated with the witches since the treaty but write your letter and give it to me. I'll make sure it gets there" Sara replied.

She left a few moments later and returned with sheets of paper, ink and a quill. Baila made sure to thank her before she left again. Sara had duties to attend to.

Her mind went blank when she dipped the quill in ink. With a sigh, she wrote only one question. She knew her mother would know who it was from.

"What do I do now?"

She couldn't write the words she truly wanted to say. Each time she tried, it felt like she was saying goodbye. She made up her mind then. She would say sorry when she saw her mother again. Baila only hoped it would be soon.

The day went by quickly as she sat alone behind the paper with scrambled thoughts. Soon, she had to light a candle. She frowned, staring outside the window. There was no moon in the skies. Only darkness-the kind Baila had never seen before.

She found herself panicking in the dark as the hairs on the back of her neck and arms rose and a nasty chill sent goosebumps up her arms and legs.

Then, she heard it.

A loud shrill cackling sound broke the silence. Two more cackles followed and soon, the cackling was coming from everywhere.

Her eyes went wide as she searched around the room for a weapon. Something was coming and whatever it was, it wasn't good.

Lightning flashed in the black sky, giving Baila enough light and time to see the shadows that moved swiftly in the dark as if they were walking on air. Baila's hand reached for her necklace instinctively. If it came down to the worst moment, Baila would rip off the damn thing that restricted her powers and use her gifts.

A strong wind blew and the candle she had lit went off. The darkness swallowed her-fears and all. Baila's breath stuttered to a halt as the castle walls grew eerily quiet. She could not hear the guards' footsteps as they made their nightly rounds. She couldn't hear the maids laughing as they gossiped and she couldn't hear the squeaking of the mouse that irritated her to no end.

It was dark but Baila knew the way to her door. She stumbled in the dark and without thinking, Baila pushed the door to her room open and stepped out. The hallway was dark as well but the cackling had stopped. Baila didn't know where she was going or what she was doing. All she knew was that she needed to be around people.

A low hissing sound came from behind her, freezing her where she stood. Sweat slithered down the side of her head and into the cleavage of her nightgown. One by one, the torches in the hallway lit up, allowing Baila to see.

"Don't look back," she whispered to herself as her feet moved slowly on their own.

"Don't look back," she whispered, hot tears streamed down her face.

When Baila turned to face the source of the hissing sound, all her nightmares began to look like fairytales.