Savage Wings: Book Three of The Whitechapel Chronicles

Chapter 38

Author's Note: So, dear Chapelites,  this chapter hasn't ended up quite as I'd planned, but it was already close to 7000 words and if you're going to end a chapter, you might as well end it like this. If you're a member of the Facebook fan group, The Chapelite Asylum, you might have been expecting something else to happen, but hey, plans change and we authors are fickle, horrible creatures who change their minds quicker than most people change their underpants. So anyway, as always, thanks for your patience and support, I hope you enjoy the chapter, please do hit that little star button and leave a comment if you do. This fickle, horrible author will be most grateful xxx

He'd stolen kisses whenever he could.

Always with declarations of love, coupled with that hungry, desperate look in his eyes that left me a bit fearful, he'd demanded them from me at every opportunity, whenever we were alone, whenever members of his clan were not around to see. Not that he cared what they thought and they'd never have dared to protest otherwise, he was the Great Wolf after all, but it was something he kept hidden, something he did in secret, because somewhere inside, he knew it was wrong, he knew it went against his very nature. I could see it in his eyes every time his lips left mine, when he was still so close that I could see the workings of his mind and his tortured conscience whirling around behind the amber sparks. Those never seemed to fade now either and I couldn't help but wonder if they were now instinctually installed for my benefit whenever he was in my presence, as if the beast inside him wanted to remind me that it was always there, just waiting under the surface until the time it would take control and finally destroy me.

This thing inside me, it's going to kill you, Megs. It wants to kill you and I don't think I can stop it again.

For now, the human side of Brandon was winning, but I knew it was only because I had somehow convinced him that this was what I wanted too. I wanted to tell him that he was languishing in nothing but fantasy, I wanted to scream it into his face until my throat was sore and inflamed. But the truth was, I needed him. Probably more than I ever had in my whole life. I needed him to want me. I needed him to believe I wanted him. And I needed him to stayed locked in whatever sick fantasy he'd dreamt up, because while he was there, while he believed it to be the truth, then I was one step closer to reaching Lucius before it was too late.

But that didn't mean I wasn't struggling with his kisses and his little experiments, for with every kiss, came something else. His lips against my throat. His hand too heavy on my thigh. Fingers that seemed too keen to explore. He'd even begun to lament the fact he'd had to bind me with the Chains of the Abyss, because the chains meant restricted access, to him the chains meant he couldn't touch me how he wanted to and if it was one thing that Brandon hated, it was having his tail clipped and his leash tightened. My stomach had somersaulted with the rush of butterflies when he'd mentioned how much he wished the chains were gone, an adrenalin-filled spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, he'd consider removing them completely, even if only for a few minutes. That hope faded as quickly as it had come, when he'd dismissed the notion with a shake of his head, his face darkening with rage and he'd left the room abruptly, slamming the door back against the wall and leaving me to watch little clouds of plaster dust float down from the hole the handle had made.

I wouldn't let the hope die though. I couldn't. And with each kiss, with each touch, I let the embers of hope burn on, waiting for that moment when I could ignite them again. The problem was I didn't have much time and the longer this went on, the more chance there was of Vánagandr taking control of Brandon again and fulfilling its own fantasy of tugging my guts free from my body and feasting on them as I took my last breath.

I'd been held here for two nights. In between, I'd watched the daylight peeking around the edges of the blinds that had been newly installed in the kitchen, the only things seemingly not covered in the dust and grime that had taken hold of a house apparently no longer lived in. I wasn't sure where Brandon actually lived now, I guessed it was whatever new compound he'd found so he could dwell within the protection of the clan, drawing them to him as the Great Alpha should. Although I had no doubt that he was more than capable of looking after himself, he seemed to always have a close contingency of Varúlfur with him, apart from when he sought to be with me alone.