“Jerks! Turds. You filthy turds! I should’ve roofied your drinks!” her scream tore to the laments of frigid quietness. She threw her nameplate tag at Makhail’s feet, tearing her shirt a little in the process.
The rip in her shirt from the safety pin had punctured the skin below her collar bone. A small red dot oozed on the skin, forcing Mikhail’s attention there. Vanessa then did the most unlikely thing, she hissed. And she could see Mikhail’s eyes widen to the sound her vocal cords could produce so well.Her anger mingled with hurt when she caught his eyes on the sliver of skin she showed. She knew he wasn’t checking her out. Ryder gave preferential treatment to girls who could at least reach his lips. So his concern at the heels of drowning her in humiliation, without giving her a chance or a choice, provoked her.“Do I smell blood?” The voice. Deep. Timber like. Spoken with measured perplexion. Words curled to the optimum perfection tongue, lit a frenzy in the inner lining of her stomach.Her reactions were shifted like tectonic plates, and the human in her registered the quake on Richter scale. To derive the conclusion of irreversible damage. It said to get out of there before she broke apart. In front of Mikhail or just by the sound of that voice, originating from the shadows. She confirmed the door to be slightly ajar, enough for a small hand to wrench between the two of them and peer it open. Then, her heart beat two times its regular speed. Whirling, the small sprite of a person was here the one moment and gone the next. Mikhail picked up the thump of square heel against the surface but neither of his men could bring her back now. He guessed being small had its edge- speed. Surprised would be an understatement. He could sense she had piqued his friend, Noah Abel’s interest. Noah hardly felt the decency to hide things, his mind was open to Mikhail and vice versa. Both are privy to each other’s innermost thoughts. Vanessa ran. And ran. Her eyes trickled water, blurring her vision. They weren’t tears, no. She refused to cry over this. Until the weight of her situation hit her. By then she had reached the other side of the back alley. The small dingy street behind the club where staff members parked their vehicles. She found herself bent over like a dog. Gravel hit her palms, dirtied her hand, and chalked her nails. She panted loudly, like a dog too. At that moment, she realized something about despair. It was forever tainted by hope. She did not have it in her to despair about how her knees had hit the curb too hard, abrasion had peeled off her skin and she was bleeding like children in the playgrounds did.Her momentous bravery all but gone. She curled like a baby right there, in the middle of the road, sending silent prayers to her body and mind to calm down. It was near impossible but if she wanted to sleep, the safety of her bedroom will hold her better until she can hold herself. Not if she had to mortgage that as well….
She knew she stewed until she reached a boiling point. She simply, once again, held her ground and refused to have a breakdown here. She had a home. She was keeping her home. No mountain of debt would swallow it. She would see to that. Her feet, also bare, red kitten heels dangling from her fingers carried her home. On default, she opened the lock, entered her home, heading straight for the shower. Her body’s collective strength ebbed away with every step she took to her small, encasing bathroom. The warm water beat her back in the ferocious stream. Blood no longer lingered, the worry did. The way she had left things, all three of them, Mikhail, the mystery man and her, knew this was far from over.Tucked in bed, she saw on her window the shadows fighting, both hers. One caused by moonlight and the other by an oil lantern she kept in the corner. She felt the same trepidation, two opposing forces chipping away at her. Regret and curiosity. Curiosity, given her condition, she better avoid. The mystery man’s voice, “Did someone bleed?”, how nonchalant, how much an afterthought, stung her reservoirs, she wasn’t even aware she had. Her fears snubbed the comfort of a home, and she fell into a restless sleep.It was after breakfast in the morning after, when her fears came neatly packaged and plastered on her doorstep. Someone had abused the side of her old wall, a small gap between the window and door to pin a thickly covered letter with a shiny new nail. The reasons were obvious, they didn’t want the letter to be covered in snow or be blown away in the wind. And it definitely caught her attention, didn’t it? Tentatively picked it up. Her wolf smelled pine wood and juniper, but that was no derivative of any clue, everything here smelled the same. Like the trees.Her instincts doubled over because if they didn’t know the contents, they definitely knew the sender. Curiosity solidified to apprehension, she ripped open the sealing right on the porch. Maybe Mikhail had someone watching her from the shadows to confirm whether she received his message or not, she wouldn’t put it past him. Well, how is this for confirmation? There is a moment, a thin line between bravery and stupidity people need to carefully tread on. She had blurred those yesterday, and she was ready to face the consequences. They won’t send her to prison right?The letters' content were not surprising, not in the least. So she wasted no time, sought out her best looking formal attires, laid them all on her bed. She had three. She didn’t have the luxury to neither afford good ones nor to spend time on picking the right one. Her hands pressed over the chiffon fabric, seagreen and decent for how it had aged in her closet. She decided to walk all the way to his, the Alpha’s place. If she had consumed anything other than coffee in the morning, it would’ve been lying in her toilet pot. She had puked twice, bile instead of food. Walking might perhaps bring color back to her skin. But she’d have to suffer with her questions all alone through out the journey. She had only walked a few
What does one call an after effect of paralysis? When blood courses through like a ritual only to find there's nowhere to go? She felt about the same. Vanessa Flynn was screwed tight, a step inside the office, someone had bolted her there with a nail. She was facing him. HIM. Oh she knew his name alright. How could she not? Her wolf had been on edge last given their proximity. Now, it howled. It wasn't recognition of any sort. Just that, in twenty three years of her life, nobody had held her rapt attention the way this gorgeous man did.His hair reflected sunlight, a complexion of hazy brown and twinges of black. His crumpled suit was the vestige of a long day. Or night. He hadn't changed. What pissed her off then and there was the vulgar air of confidence he exuded. Never mind the appropriate dress up. She thought he was a walking epitaph to disclaim the 'vain' in vanity. For he didn't care ho
By the time Vanessa returned home, it was lunch time. Her stomach growled, protesting at another cup of lavender tea, but she had very little money right now and no energy to re-stock her food supplies. Her wolf, especially, did not prefer that. Animal could go hunt for herself, but she worried about how the human carried herself. The worry was judicious. If wolves in human form lacked strength to shift into wolves, what good were they? Vanessa was young, had managed to keep the muscles she had built as a teenager chopping, crafting woods. Soon, they’ll deplete with lack of oxygen if she didn’t change what and how she ate. Vanessa realized her wolf was in no mood to spar over their living conditions with her. Poor thing was as resigned as she was exhausted. She managed to enjoy the cup of tea before her phone rang, shrill in the quite house. She knew who it’d be. “Hello Mum.” “Hello, Ness. How are you baby?” She had missed her mother. Their relationship had been rocky before, when
A small package wrapped in a brown paper bag sat on her porch. Puzzled, she picked it up and tested its weight. Light, compact. A cubic. Her fingers found the note on the other side. She went inside to read it.'These are the freshly made set of keys of the villa. And my number, should you need it.Mikhail.'Written in block letters, with less space than needed between the letters, so it looked like a congested print. She drew the drapes close. Still wondering why she got the keys to Noah's villa, she felt uneasy. More so, coiling and uncoiling the paper with Mikhail's number on it. He was expressing familiarity she hadn't expected. Unlike Noah, that is. He didn't scare her. But he did make her nervous. She can’t quite put her finger on it, but Mikhail Ryder was inadvertently making up for something. Perhaps for firing her, but that seemed too pale a reason. She’d ask him what his deal was. For now, she could feel her bed beckoning her. Her only friend, Abigail, demonstrated her con
Slick in her beige clothes the next morning, Vanessa contemplates covering the distance from her house to the villa on four feet but chickens out. Not in the habit of running around as a wolf in front of others, she settles to walk. Even when it takes approximately an hour.Today morning, she’d have no time to admire the place all over again. It was a double-edged sword anyway, to want to pet all the animals living inside, including the owner. She was still in trepidation over her role here. She understood management but knew nothing of the bureaucracy within the halls to know where her boundaries lay. Was she to manage the mundane in and outs of his day or did he want her here the whole time? Still making her way upstairs, keys jingling in her left hand, she heard his voice, cursing on the phone. Already? It was seven in the morning, and it was Saturday. Alphas didn’t take the weekends off, of course. But how in contrast to his father he appeared, Rourke Abel, the presiding Alpha of
Indignant, her anger swam forth. Where was she? In a boarding school? What was he threatening her with, imposing all these rules?“Last time I checked. I was here because I am not a pack member. I don’t care what they say because I don’t associate with them. There is no reason for your distrust. But if you still feel that way, you can fire me. Better yet, I will leave.”He was enjoying all right. Way too much, even though Mikhail was scolding him in his brain.‘Stop pushing her Noah. It really isn’t fair.’‘We need to know if we can trust her. Let me do what I am good at.’Mikhail rubbed his chin with the palm of his hand, a nervous gesture only Noah caught on. But Noah knew he was making sense. If he were to find out why different smaller clans were at each other’s throat for past six months, he needed to know his information gathering was not known to anyone. He trusted his pack members, his close confidantes, especially Mikhail. But pack members knew very little of pack politics
Vanessa’s wolf was lazy compared to her panicked state. The beautiful animal, husk brown coat with white patches on hind legs lingered to take in the forest. Tress swept past, mud and snow cackling beneath, its paws digging the ice. It felt like any other run. Until a canto of heavy thuds, almost like the horse hooves but softer resonated behind. At first, she thought it to be another wolf running but the scent gave him away. Intense, titillating aroma like the green-tinged fumes of absinthe, getting over juniper covered snow. That’s how she knew Noah Abel was stalking her. Her panic promoted to hyperventilation, she could hear the wolf right beside her now. His breathing was easy, languid while she panted. What was with him? The man was gorgeous but the wolf was striking. Signature alpha genes physically manifest into the sharpest black colour fur covering the vast expanse of his body. The sheer size of him made Vanessa feel her own wolf was a pup only. She focused on him as he clo
"I didn't do this. It still looks inflamed. How did this happen?" His fingers wouldn't leave the scar alone, tracing its outline, poking in the centre. Vanessa was more aware of his skin against hers, and had to focus on his mouth to discern his words. Which was all the more, a bad idea. His eyes found it offensive. "It's a blister. Happened few months ago." Why was he asking her this? Care aside, he didn't seem all that interested in knowing the origins of it. Just that it interrupted his slow measure of her exposed skin. She felt the blood rush to the surface when she acknowledged this little fact. Vanessa was blushing. Again. And looking anywhere but at him. He stopped when what he really wanted was to trace a small vein, visibly blue under the moonlight stretched along the column of her neck. Pulling the jacket up and over, he ushered her to walk ahead. The wolf was lurking in the recesses of human restraint, and his stance, walking around her at this time of night was one of pr