A new life

So, you might think I ran to Clark and his little b**h right away and ended their miserable lives, but no. I was not that stupid. Clark didn’t deserve to die, not his new little wh**e either; it would be too easy on them. Besides, I needed training. I was still weak.

Even if both of them were slippery as eels and had an IQ that matched the animal. Their ranks made their wolves robust, and would defend their human counterpart if someone threatened their lives. A fight that I would lose. Even if my trail of thought changed, my body was weak, my heart still in pieces, and my soul still black and crying.

When I came back, I was basically a rogue; no pack and no family. All alone in my own misery and hatred. I figured out that I would need a pack of sorts, but I didn’t want just any pack. This was a time to be innovative. I sought out a small pack I remember hearing about from my parents when I was young: specially trained werewolves and hybrids in combat, stealth, tactics, and tracking. If they were an average pack, they would be the strongest ones around, that I’m sure of, but they weren’t.

They were hunters.

Not like the human hunters that track down supernatural beings and kill them just for the fun of it or just because they hated them.

No. This little community consisted of retired hunters that used to work for the supernatural government. Their job was to seek out, investigate, and hunt down werewolves, hybrids, vampires, dragon shifters that broke the rules, criminals who killed humans and exposed themselves, and so on.

Now, I could benefit from the knowledge I got in my previous life because I spent my days in the packhouse with the Luna and years of listening to my parents talk about their last missions and connections. I called a man named Collin, who worked in the government, and after my recollection, he has a soft spot for young girls. Too young.

So, after three phone calls and a 20-minute waiting break, I was granted a one-year stay. The main reason was training, this also meant I would forever be considered part of their community, but I would be on my own after that. Here, I could improve myself and get rid of this hideous rogue sent, but at the same time, I wasn’t tied down to a pack and society. It was perfect!

I looked forward to a year of blood, pain, and sweat. To make my exterior as hard and cold as I felt inside, built up my walls on the outside as high and impenetrable as the walls I built inside. However, what I wasn’t prepared for was Mickael. Of course, I should have known. They were all hunters, but this also meant they were warriors. They knew what trauma would do to you. I couldn’t hide mine as well as I thought.

When I arrived, I was turned off. I didn’t take time to cry for my loss, my betrayal, or what was done to me before I died. I pushed it all away. Ironically, I found my therapy when I was supposed to be made into a strong and skilled killer. I wouldn’t say I liked it, but I quickly learned that I became a better fighter when my mental state was healthy.

Therapy was one thing, it helps, but it won’t take it away. The dreams and the memories just kind of help you accept them. Accept what happened; it’s part of me and will always be. Another thing was finding something to distract you or help you cope. I tried it all, Jessica used hill-climbing, which was exciting, but that didn’t do it for me. Avalon painted; let’s just say that’s not part of my talent, nor did

I have the patience for it. Then I tried Yoga & meditation, horseback riding, shooting with guns and arrows, running from it all, and screaming (yes, Amalia loved her screaming!). We used to go out in the middle of the woods and scream our lungs empty. I could see it worked for her, but I still was left with something nagging my inner peace.

That’s when Mickael showed up, and it was actually a coincidence, but I discovered BDSM, and it was just what I’d been searching for! I pushed my limits; I worked with trust, pain, and pleasure. After a good session, I was worn out, satisfied, and at peace, and I could relax.

Never would I have thought sex could do or be so much more than, well, sex. I never thought I would find my release and salvation with the delightful combination of pleasure and pain: humiliation and discipline. I discovered a whole new world, and I loved it. Mickael made me moan, cry, scream, and yelp. Every time he took care of me afterward like I was his little princess. Every time I slept like a baby at night with a smile on my face and a night without nightmares. This inner peace and bliss gave me the calm I needed to look forward to planning my steps and moves. The plus side was I also could enjoy a part of life I never even knew existed! What I felt towards Mickael wasn’t love but trust, understanding, respect, and lust. Love didn’t have a place in my heart or mind. Desire, on the other hand, definitely had a place. I could still close my eyes and picture him and sometimes even crave him, and I will forever cherish the time we spent together.

I breathe in the raw November air with my eyes closed, listening and waiting. Where was I? Yes. My stay at the huntress pack. I left ready for combat in every way, got help to heal my mind and soul, found distraction and pleasure and found my new mission in life. That’s what I was here, standing on the corner of a dark ally in a little town in the south of England. I’ve already been waiting for hours, but I will wait all week if necessary. I have studied his file repeatedly, and this is a man don’t deserve the oxygen he is breathing, and I was determined to burn his file before I left this county. I already had a new job waiting for me back in Dallas, and the longer I waited with that job, the more suffering he would inflict. He has been an active man, and I wanted to end it fast, but this creep could not wait either.