BLOOD DREAM (Ongoing)

1.2: Chained Hound Salivating

Theron woke to golden sunlight making shapes past the curtain. Dust drifted slowly in the light, swirling on his faintest breath. He turned his head, but just that motion was crippling; pain shot down his neck and up into his brain, leaving Theron groaning against the empty bedroom wall. He was still in last night's clothes: stained blue jeans, black zip-up sweater, black t-shirt, blood and sweat and grit. The agony persisted, no—worsened as he tried to get a glimpse of himself. It screamed out of his arms, twisted behind his back with zip-ties around his wrists, and his broken ribs and his throat, where his flesh was still gaping from the savagery of the wolves. He felt like shit.

Sadie, that fucking bitch. She'd never hurt him this badly before. Their games were always dangerous, but never lethal. They were always just games. To him, at least.

Theron didn't move again. He closed his eyes and decided he would hope to wait out the worst of it. He was a Dire, like Sadie, like the two other wolves and the polar bear—animal-human shifters—and he would heal good as new within a couple days. But whether Sadie would grant him that grace period, he doubted.

Last night came back to him in flutters. Theron had walked the street looking for her, traces of her scent through the North Winnipeg neighborhood suggesting that, after four years, she was finally back. He missed her, even though the last time he saw her was the night before she killed his dad. Okay, maybe there was something unresolved in the way he missed her. How could he not go after Sadie as soon as he knew she was here? Kitra told him to stay away, but he didn't listen. He didn't regret it, either.

At 12 AM, he found her leaning against his car, backlit by the streetlights buzzing with insects, watching him. The August night made him clammy and hot. He'd never been so overwhelmed with raw destructive desire. The things he wanted to do to her! After what she took away from him! But finding her was only the start.

He parked close to an ice rink. The city maintained it through the summer, but that late on a Tuesday night, the rink and its parking lot were deserted. As soon as he came close, she flitted away, leading him to the stage of his demise. He followed, knowing but just too arrogant to care that she was setting him up for ambush. He wanted to talk to her. He needed to. She disappeared behind a heavy metal door, and when he found it unlocked, Theron slipped in after her. He followed her to the place she wanted to desecrate—tonight, it was on the ice, spotlighted to an audience of five hundred empty seats. Sure, he thought. He'd do it there. He'd make a mess of the place. Theron trailed her onto the ice, unzipping his sweater until a growling echo broke the silence.

Evidently, his assumptions about Sadie that night were wrong.

Theron spent long, silent minutes after he woke up trying to excuse her intensity. Trying to forgive her, or reason with himself that this was just another phase of their relationship. As if he could even call the toxic volcano of their feelings a relationship. Since his earliest childhood memories of Sadie, he coveted her. As kids, Theron liked Sadie because she played like the boys—they could rough-house, and he would tease her, and she would fight back without getting upset like girls usually did. He thought it was because they had a strong bond—that was what his mother said—but really, Sadie only played like a boy because she thought she had no other choice. She played the role of his destined mate because her life depended on it. He was ignorant to her animosity for a long time.

The distance made him ache for her more, but so too did the guilt that set in as weeks turned into years without her. Suddenly losing her and his father left him lonelier than he'd ever been. Kitra was the one who shed light on his abuses; with no one to turn to in denial (to Sadie, to perpetrate his abuses), Theron instead finally understood how cruel he'd been. He took it for granted that Sadie stayed with him as long as she did, even though it was apparent she'd been building up to murder. But if he could forgive her for murdering his asshole dad, couldn't she forgive him...?

He never imagined the answer could be no.

He should have known Sadie would turn her lasers onto him next. Theron didn't want to accept it or what it meant—he couldn't stand change, he was tired of losing things!—but all signs pointed to this being the end. After a grueling four-year cliffhanger, this was the end. She would take everything from him: his heart, his family... his sister. Kitra!

Wincing, Theron crawled on his knees through the sunbeam toward the bedroom door. His heart trembled, remembering Sadie's knife poised to greet his sister. If anything came of that encounter, he hadn't heard it past the wolves and the bear punishing him, dragging him out of the rink. He couldn't lose Kitra too. She was all he had during those four lonely years, the only person who ever forgave him. Desperate, Theron pressed against the door and breathed, searching for her smell.

His movement attracted the occupants of the house. The floor creaked beneath their feet, muffled voices remarking in patterns that resembled his name. Theron swore under his breath and leaned away, but with his wrists still bound, he could only clumsily scramble backward before the door opened.