An Adventurous Life (Alternate Addie Story)

Taken

  The smell of coffee gently pulls me out of sleep the next morning. Odd, considering it's usually Victor who wakes me up. I pull the blankets closer around me, not wanting to get up yet, snuggle deeper into my pillow.
And then my earlier thought hits me.
Opening my eyes, I sit up and turn to look at the empty space beside me. I am used to Victor leaving early in the morning—he's too restless to sleep in—but he usually checks on me when he comes back. I stir when he leaves, then fall back asleep, and get up when he returns. It's almost routine for him to wake me up . . . So why am I awake before he is back?
Unless he never came back . . .
Curiosity, along with the need to silence my thoughts, makes me throw off the blankets and get out of bed. I push messy crimson hair away from my face and look around the room, then shuffle over to the closet.
Every morning for the last two months, I've awoken to an empty bed; I hate it when Victor leaves, but I've gotten used to sleeping alone—well, as used to it as I can be.
Somehow having him back, but still waking up alone, feels emptier than when he's gone.
I tug one of Victor's black thermals off its hanger and pull it on, letting it fall over my tank top and sleep shorts. The fabric stops just above my knees, and the neck slides off one of my shoulders, but the shirt warms—and comforts—me nonetheless. I push the sleeves back a little and briefly run my fingers through my hair—just enough to remove a few tangles and pull it into a messy ponytail—as I leave the bedroom and head downstairs.
Upon entering the kitchen, I realize why I was awoken by coffee: there's a fresh pot sitting in the coffee maker. My black mug sits beside it—just waiting to be filled with coffee. Since Victor and I are the only ones currently here, I assume he made it; he is nowhere to be seen though. I can't help but smile as I walk over and pour coffee into the mug.
Even when we're fighting, Victor is still kind to me.
Taking the cup with me, I walk to the fridge and pull out creamer. I add a little to my coffee, put the creamer away, retrieve a spoon, and gently stir and sip the warm drink. Then I leave the kitchen, deciding to sit on the porch and wait for him to come back.

I've barely finished the cup when drowsiness hits my system. At first, I lean back against the house, content to let sleep overtake me. However, it occurs to me that coffee usually wakes me up; it doesn't make me tired. The thought is enough for me to straighten and look at my mug curiously. I stand, suddenly not wanting to sleep, and head inside for more coffee.
I make it to the kitchen before the room starts spinning. Trying to shake the dizziness, I reach for the counter's support. My hand misses and I stumble as the world spins faster. My mind is so foggy that it takes a moment to register someone breaking my fall—it takes longer to realize that the arms holding me are not Victor's.
Panic breaks through the drowsy fog and I start fighting against the person's grip, trying desperately to get away. My captor turns me towards the fridge, attempting to pin me to it, but I bring my knees up and press my feet against the hard surface. I put whatever force I can into kicking off the refrigerator's door and manage to shove both of us into the far counter. A male grunt registers as the attacker's back hits the counter's sharp edge, but his grip doesn't falter. I try to scream, and am silenced by a gloved hand firmly covering my mouth. The world spins again as I fight against him; I ignore the dizziness and kick behind me. My foot contacts something warm and the man drops me—the action makes the dizziness worse. Despite this, I try to run, but he lunges forward and pulls me to the ground before I get far.
As soon as I hit the hardwood floor, I know I won't be getting up again. My body and mind are heavy with sleep, and the more I fight it, the dizzier I am. I weakly struggle as my assailant drags me under him and then pins me on my stomach—his body weight pressing against my back. The last thing that my eyes notice is the shattered coffee mug lying a few feet away.
My captor holds me to the floor until everything goes dark.
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Victor's POV

Something is wrong.
The thought drifts through my mind as Addie's scent reaches my senses from the porch. I glance at the greying sky before looking at the spot where her scent is strongest. The sun is barely up; she shouldn't be awake yet. Unless she has to work that new job of hers . . . I shake my head and quietly enter the cabin.
Coffee is the first scent that registers. The scent is off, though I can't figure out why, and there's an unfamiliar scent in the air—a male's scent. A low growl escapes me; someone else has been here. Heading upstairs, I call, "Addie?"
I listen for a moment and then, when she doesn't answer, I quickly head for the bedroom. It doesn't take seeing the empty bed for me to realize she's not here. I turn around and head back downstairs, calling louder. "Addie!"
Nothing. Not a single noise outside of the ordinary stirrings in the house—no response to my call.
As soon as I reach the kitchen, I stop listening for one.
I barely feel my claws extend as I notice the broken remains of a coffee mug—her coffee mug. Worry spreads through me as I crouch in front of the mess. I pick up a shard from the floor and inhale—catching the smells around me. Panic and fear stand out in Addie's scent; cheap cologne, shock, and controlled aggression make up the male's. It suddenly dawns on me why the coffee's scent is off. The smell of a sedative laces it. Anger overruns my concern as a conclusion settles in my mind: Addie has been taken.
My fist clenches around the ceramic shard in my hand as emotions flood my thoughts. Guilt stands out among them as I catch her scent again. Panic and fear . . . I shouldn't have left her alone. I should've been here protecting her.
The feeling is quickly dispelled by anger. Addie should've been safe here. The cabin is secluded enough to keep it away from prying eyes. It should have been fine for me to leave her alone for a little while; I do it every single day. This is my house, my land, my territory, and Addie is mine.
The last thought is enough to stir the beast inside me. Predatory rage hits my system and, with a roar, the animal takes over.

When I finally regain control of myself, the kitchen is a disaster. Addie's coffee pot, among other things, is destroyed, and I'm sitting on the floor again—next to what's left of her mug. The animal is still closer to the surface than usual. It paces inside me, fueled by my anger, and demands more than a momentary rampage. I appease it with the thought of hunting down whoever was dumb enough to take what's mine.
"What happened here?" Drake's voice says from the doorway. Somehow I missed hearing him enter the house.
I rise from the floor with a growl. "Where the hell were you?"
My son shrugs. "You were gone so—"
"So you should've been here," I growl out.
Drake takes a step back. "I came back last night, but you and Addie were fighting, so I decided to leave you alone . . . Where is she anyway?"
"Gone."
Shock registers in his blue eyes. "She left?"
"No!" My objection comes out harsher than it was supposed to. "She was taken. She was alone and defenseless . . ." I stalk towards him. "You should have been here!"
"Hey." Drake pulls out his sword. "She's your girlfriend. Where were you?"
I'm lunging at him before I can stop myself. Drake dives out of the way, and I crash into the hallway wall. He's already prepared to defend himself by the time I get back on my feet. I move forward. "I trusted you to look after her."
"Addie is not my responsibility," he argues while using his sword to block a swipe from me. The blade slices my arm and I growl, then swipe at him again. Drake ducks, dodging the blow, and comes up behind me. As I turn around, he sends his weapon through my shoulder with enough force to push me back. I roar as the sword is driven into the wall—effectively pinning me.
"Look," Drake says while I struggle to get free. "You can keep passing the blame around and attacking everything, or you can calm down and we can focus on finding Addie. Your choice."

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Hey guys!
Okay, so basically my current plan is this: I'm going to upload all of my alternate short stories, and add flashbacks in as I write them. I'll be sure to make it clear in the titles which update is a story, and which one is a flashback.
This one is technically a part one to the next update, but for the sake of spoilers, I'm giving it a separate title.
Hope you enjoy it! I'd love to hear your feedback on Victor's POV; he isn't an easy mindset to write in.
Stay safe, Readers,
~Ava

Oh also, because I just realized that Drake has only been mentioned until this story, I need to clarify that he is not mine. Drake is an OC created by a wonderful friend of mine, who was kind enough to let me use him in my stories. I've also used two more of her characters, Red and Kit, who I will introduce as they come into the picture.