The Dark Side of London

Chapter 3 Aurora

I was drowning in the inky blackness that surrounded me. Like the icy cold waters of the Atlantic that surrounded our island nation, separating us from the rest of Europe. From the rest of the world. I could feel the cold piercing every inch of my body, like a thousand needles. Pricking my skin all at once, it was a pain I couldn't describe. I wondered if this was what it felt like to die? Drowning in such darkness. I was ready to give into that darkness. To allow myself some peace, after all the pain in the last two years. I heard the soft yet firm voice of my mate. Calling through those icy waters. Calling out to me.

“Come back to me… Little one,” my mate whispered. I soon recognized that voice. It was the voice of the wolf from the alleyway. His voice was like a beacon of light calling to me through the darkness. Mustering all the strength and courage I had left in my body, I opened my eyes. When I did, I realized that I was in a living room of some kind of flat. Not still in that alleyway surrounded by bloodsucking monsters. I could hear the rain beating against glass. I was lying on what felt like a leather couch. A blanket draped over my body. The blanket was warm and inviting. But there was this little voice inside my head telling me that I had to leave. That I shouldn’t be in this flat at all. Turning my head, I soon realized why. There standing over by the fireplace, his hands resting on the mantle was Marcellus Godwinson. I had seen him enough times at meetings between him and my parents to know who he was. Though he never noticed me… Until now. I slowly tried to sit up, trying not to make a sound. But I felt a wave of pain and nausea consume me. I felt a whimper leave my lips, Marcellus turned and met my gaze. His golden eyes burned into mine. Which left me frozen in place. 

“You are awake! Thank the goddess above. I was beginning to worry about you, it is nearly dawn, little one,” Marcellus cried out. His deep tenor voice sent a shiver down my spine. Marcellus Godwinson even before he was my mate was an extremely attractive man. His piercing gold eyes and his strong jawline made me melt into a pool of desire. He was shirtless, wearing only sweatpants that hung low on his lips. His briefs peaking out. Marcellus had a shadow of a beard which made him look rugged. I could already feel our mate bond pulling at my heart and deeper within my core. Marcellus gave me a relieved smile, a smile that sent heat straight through my body. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out for a few minutes. My mind clouded by the appearance of my mate. 

Where… Where am I? Mr. Godwinson,” I finally asked. His eyes went wide at the realization that I knew him. It was hard not to know him. Marcellus Godwinson was the alpha of the largest pack in all of the British Isles. He was a legend among most of the covens. Hell he was legend to everyone who knew our world existed. A wolf who was has been around for centuries. Who managed to bring together the wolf packs under a common banner.

“You are in my flat in the Briton packhouse. I decided to bring you here after your encounter with the vampyres. I saved you from being murdered by those leeches,” he replied smoothly. My eyes never left his, and I watched as they turned a darker shade of gold in the firelight. The firelight being the only light in the room. I finally could sit up after the sickness subsided, the blanket falling away from my body. He let out a low growl when he saw my exposed body. I did my best to smooth out my knotted hair. I looked down and saw the dried blood on my sports bra. Marcellus had his eyes on my breasts, I pulled my now ruined cardigan over my bra. I didn’t like the way Marcellus was staring at me, there was much too much lust in his eyes for my liking. I could feel the cut on my head, it hurt like a bitch. My mum is going to kill me. I needed to get out of this packhouse. I slowly began to remember the vampyre attack he mentioned. I checked my wrists and my neck, to make sure that the vampyres didn’t feed on me. If a vampyre fed on you, and you managed to get away. They could track you down to finish the job they started. I looked up at Marcellus Godwinson and realized that he was the wolf that saved me, he was my mate. The man my mother wanted dead… the man my mum hated with a passion was my mate. I felt my mouth suddenly go dry. Why did he have to bring me here? To his packhouse. Why didn’t he just bring me to a hospital? Or even left me in that alleyway? Someone would have found me and helped me. If it was a human, they would think that I was a mugging victim and call for help.