Kiss Me Deadly

Chapter One

My sleep is not peaceful for long. A dream- or rather, a memory- interrupts my slumber. It's one that I've had frequently over the past four years, though it's not a happy one.

I am fourteen years old again, walking the halls of the facility I'd grown up in, Grimm Haven, it's called. I'd just finished my daily training, though I know how to fight better than the instructor does, I have for a while now. That's to be expected of the daughter of Fenrir the Wolf, most fearsome werewolf there ever was, and Katrina Steel, powerful succubus and skillful seductress.

With a sigh, I pad barefoot to the room where I'm suppose to meet with mother and father, and their boss, Angelo Octavian for an announcement. I rest my hand on the doorknob and am about to open the door when voices sound through the wood. I pause, then, with a secret smile, I press my ear against the door and listen.

"Do we really need this boy? So he can kill a person with a single touch, why is he so important? I can snap a few hundred necks with my teeth," my father growls and from the tone of his voice, I can tell that his teeth are bared and he's licking his lips at the thought of killing.

I frown. A boy who can kill a person with a single touch? That's . . . frightening, impressive but frightening. Who is this guy?

"Yes, we need him!" Angelo nearly shouts. Then he lowers his voice. "His powers will be key in my plans. You think that every supernatural in the world is just going to lay down and let us take control? No! We need him to strike fear in the hearts of all, to torture all those who try to rise up against us!"

By the time Octavian finishes, my eyes are wide with horror and my mouth is gaping. That is what my parents have been doing while working for Octavian? Planning to enslave the supernatural race and killing all who resist? I knew that Fenrir and Katrina Steel weren't the best people and neither was Octavian, but this . . . this is beyond terrible. Where is their morality? Their humanity?

"And what if the boy refuses?" my mother asks in her smooth, sensual voice. Having been around her for all my life, I can easily detect the cold, hard tone underneath her rouse.

I listen intently, not wanting to but needing to hear what will become of the boy if he doesn't join them.

"Then we will use your daughter to obtain his power and then we will dispose of him . . . slowly." I can almost hear a grin in Octavian's malicious voice.

Me? They want to use me in their evil schemes?

I step back, away from the door, a hand over my opened mouth. I've heard enough. With out a second thought, I turn and run to my room.

I need to get out of here. I need to find the one whose touch is deadly. I need to protect him.

I awake to a cacophony of snarls echoing in the small house's ruined living room. My eyes snap open just as I'm pinned to the ground by a hulking wolf. Werewolf, a distant part of my mind whispers.

It growls in my face, baring its sinister teeth mere inches from my eyes. As much as I want to, I don't flinch away. I mustn't show any weakness.

My eyes flick to the sides to assess any other threats. My stomach drops immediately. There are at least ten other supernaturals in the room, maybe more. Werewolves. Shapeshifters. The ones with sheer muscle mass. They wouldn't be protecting a place like this without a damn good reason.

They must be protecting something- or someone- important.

I traced the one I'm looking for to this area. Could he be who they're protecting?

I'm yanked up onto my feet harshly and my hands are bound behind my back tightly. I assess my chances of escape quickly. Eleven supernaturals. I could take them, maybe, but even if I did, I'd be in no shape to take on any others that my be hidden around the house. So I've no choice but to let them pull me through the house, face down, buried in my dark curls.

I'm led into what used to be the kitchen where the largest shapeshifter shifts into his human form with ease and opens a secret trap door in the middle of the floor. I'm shoved forward roughly, but I hesitate. If I go down there, will I come out? A strong pair of werewolf jaws snapping at my heels has me hurrying forwards.

I make haste down the steps, uncomfortably twisting my wrists within my bindings. The skin is already rubbed raw. It'll be healed by tomorrow, though -that is, if I survive the night. I shift my focus from that discomforting thought and return to surveying my surroundings. The air gets cooler and cooler as we descend. The staircase is long, taking us deeper and deeper underground. Fear coils in the pit of my stomach, winding tighter and tighter the further we go.

My eyes are still pointedly down when we reach the bottom of the stairs. I see several more pairs of feet gathered in front of me and I can feel all of their eyes burning holes into my head. The force pushing me forwards ceases and holds me still instead. The room is silent, filled with curiosity and suspicion. I've been put on display for all to see and they are not shy.

I look up slowly, eyeing all the bystanders that gape at me like I'm some kind of circus freak. My eyes first settle on a small blonde girl with wide blue eyes who stares on as if captivated. At first, I think that she's looking at me, but a second glance tells me that she's really looking at the mammoth of a man to my right, the shapeshifter that's holding onto me now. His expression is stony and harsh, but I swear that I see a quick smile flashed at the little blonde girl.

Someone clearing their throat draws my attention from the two. I look up only to have my eyes met by a pair of intensely bright green ones that stare back at me with a guarded sort of curiosity. His mouth is pulled into a hard line, accenting his strong jawline. With his dark hair and his well developed muscles, he really is quite handsome. Too bad I might have to kill him.

I can't sense what he is, like I'd been able to with the others. Purebreds are easy to identify whether they be werewolves, shapeshifters, incubi or whatever else. Hybrids, as rare as they are, are a different story. They can't be identified by sense. They can only be identified the hard way; either knowing their parentage or being attacked by one. Hybrids aren't made often, but when they are, they're deadly. This man is obviously a hybrid, but what kind, I'm not sure.

Strangely, he holds his hands at his sides as if they themselves are deadly weapons. There's an almost static charge around him that fills the room with tension. The large man next to me's eyes dart back and forth between the man and I uncomfortably, like I wasn't suppose to see him. My eyes, in return, flick back and forth between the two of them suspiciously, trying to figure it out. Then it clicks.

"It's you," I gasp with wide eyes I move towards him quickly, too fast for the big guy or the others to stop me. I stop a foot or two away from him, breathless with elation. The man is stunned, sending a questioning look over my shoulder, presumably at the large man who'd looked at the blonde girl. He's probably wondering what the hell's wrong with me but I don't care. I'm too overjoyed to feel anything else.

A large hand wraps around my upper arm and I'm pulled away from the green eyed man roughly, but I'm smiling. I found him. I found the one whose touch is deadly, at last.