False Mate, True Mate

Chapter 5

Angelique stared at herself in the mirror. After a year, her chest was now starting to swell. Her hair was nearly white. She'd taken to washing her hair with diluted bleach every morning before her shower. It kept Alfred happy. It kept her eyes from burning. The fourth time he'd bleached her hair, her eyes hadn't fully recovered. Her blue eyes were paler than before, and her vision was blurry.

Her groin, her "love chamber", wasn't healing as fast, either. It was always sore, now. Her left shoulder at the base of her neck was a mass of scar tissue. It was "his mark" on her. He loved to trace it with a lazy finger after they "made love" together, ignoring the oozing of the fresh bite wounds.

Her ears picked up the soft click of the door downstairs. Her ears and nose were still as sharp, sharper even, as before. She went back to the bedroom and stood, eyes downcast, waiting for him to enter. Her ears told her when he opened the door, and she inhaled deeply.

His smell betrayed his mood, as did his gait. Anger, frustration. When he was upset, he sometimes struck her. She had learned. She was always learning lessons from him. There was a way to calm him, and maybe avoid other pain later.

Approaching demurely, cautiously, her hands came to rest on his broad, muscular chest. She dipped to her knees. When he didn't stop her, she used her mouth to relax him. She choked down his foul fluids and draped herself against his body, seeking to sooth him.

"Damned pack killed Arianna. She found her mate, Joanna, and they killed her! Don't they know what that will do to her mate?" He was angry. She could smell it. His hands were around her throat, squeezing his frustration.

Angelique held her breath. She would pass out, or not. It didn't matter. She hadn't soothed him enough. "They fucking killed her! A great warrior! And Gregory as well! We killed his mate for him when we got back. No point letting her waste away, now."

So the poor woman has peace. Good for her, was Angelique's only thought as black dots crept into her vision while she hung limply. Suddenly, her body flew through the air, landing roughly on the bed.

"Let's celebrate our love, Joanna, our life!"

How many times will you rape me tonight? She couldn't cry. The bleach had killed her tear ducts. It was just as well.

---

Angelique had lost track of time. She knew her sixteenth birthday had passed. Al sometimes mentioned the date or month. He gave her "presents" on Joanna's birthday and for Christmas. Usually, it was lacy garments that he soon destroyed.

She had lost weight. With silver poisoning her, she couldn't digest the raw meat she was fed as well. She didn't really care about eating, except when she didn't, Al would get mad. He'd cut out part of her breasts one time when he got mad. She was "getting too large" and it angered him. Joanna had been smaller than Angelique, but Al had fixed her.

Her vision had gotten worse. Bleach would trickle into her eyes when she washed her hair. She couldn't heal them any more than she could heal the scars on her breasts or her neck. Al didn't care. He told her he loved her marks.

He'll be back soon. He'll be angry, or ecstatic, but he'll want to use me. When he left for "pack business" was the only time she got a break. She went hungry, but it was a small price to pay for a bit of peace. Al had been gone for two and a half days, now. He would be very happy, or very angry.

The door below opened, and her body tensed. He's here! She listened, and grew confused. The gait was wrong. It wasn't Al. It was someone else. It was someone new. Did they kill him? Are they going to kill me as a mercy, now? She remembered. Despite everything, despite the pain, she couldn't just let herself die.

Scrambling off the bed, Angelique went to the only place she could be a little bit safe: the bathroom. She managed to close and lock the door. The silver chain was caught under it. Then she huddled down and waited. If they get through, they'll kill me. He died in a war, and now they'll kill me, when I'm almost free. They won't let me go, it's not their way.

The footsteps came up the stairs. It was a male. She'd learned to tell the difference. Al would sometimes have his rogue friends visit, and they would "party" together with their mates. He sometimes let the others touch her body.

The bedroom door opened, and Angelique held her breath. She couldn't risk attracting attention, even though she knew the chain would likely give her away. He inhaled deeply, a low growl rumbling from his chest.

Angelique trembled slightly from fear. Her chain shifted slightly with her motion, and suddenly the door was rattling. A deep voice demanded, "Let me in there! Right now!"

She froze, still not breathing. Go away! Go away! I'm already dead! Go away!

The door smashed open to reveal a massive, naked male in the doorway. Angelique made the first noise she'd made in several months. She screamed.