Book 1 in the Clearwater series
Maybelle Smith, or Rose as she is more known, is about as stereotypical as you get when it comes to a teenager. She hates school, her brother pisses her off, sarcasm is her first language, and she can't stand her math...
My fucking head hurts. That's really all I can think as I regain consciousness. My entire body throbs, but the pain in my head outshines it all. Gritting my teeth and clenching my fists against the cool ground, I push myself up onto my knees. Even the slight movements make me want to vomit, but I somehow keep it in check long enough to look around.
Unsurprisingly, I'm in the cell Connor promised me, at least I think it's the cell. It's so goddamn dark that it's hard to make out anything that would help me identify my surroundings. The only thing that tips me off aside from the piercing darkness is the thick stench of rot. The same smell that hit me when Connor threw open the door now assaults me in an all too personal way not at all helping my nausea.
I gag suddenly, my insides wanting to escape my body more than ever. My body lurches agonizingly, yet once again I'm able to contain it. Leaning back on my knees, I take in a deep breath. The scents that fill my nose are all revolting, but one stands out above the rest like a shark in a pool of piranhas. A sharp, sour stench that hits the sense hard and fast. The scent of a rouge.
My body tenses up in a single move, throwing all my senses into high alert. How did I not smell it sooner? The scent swirls around the room like a vile cloud, filling every crack of the dingy room. There's a rouge in here with me.
Where are they? My eyes widen to the point of pain, as if that would help me see any better. I can't see them, and the scent is too muddled to pinpoint a location. They could be anywhere.
Fear races through me at my perceived helplessness. Dangerous thoughts race through my mind too quickly to distinguish, and yet they scare me all the same. They could be inches from me for all I know. "Where are you?" I whisper in a voice too small to be heard if not for the deafening silence.
They don't speak. Of course they wouldn't. What are they going to do to me? If I find them, will they hurt me? I want to crawl away into a corner, but I'm too afraid of finding the rouge there that I can do no more than curl into myself.
I silently sob, my body still racked with pain as my emotions catch up to reality. Everything is deathly still, as if time doesn't apply. The two of us just remain, neither moving or even risking a noise.
I'm not sure how long it's been. Time has passed I'm sure, but how much? I think I passed out, but that could be my imagination. My brain reels as I stare into the darkness. The rouge hasn't moved. Are they even there? "Are you there?" I ask despite myself.
When silence responds, I speak up again. "Who are you anyways?" My voice fills the silence, more confidently than before. "Did you use to belong to a pack, or where you always a rouge? Why are you with Connor? He's a prick. You know that right? He's a sick fucking bastard that deserves to rot in hell." I snarl provokingly, but still receive no response. I huff. At least I'm not stuck with an impulsive or hotheaded rouge, or so I assume. "Well you didn't kill me for mocking your alpha, so I'd assume you're either relatively levelheaded, or you agree with me. Silence is consent after all." My rambles do no more than take up space, but listening to my own voice is more comforting that than the quiet.
"Did you lose your mate?" I mumble. Silence returns, yet this time it's a thick, stale kind of silence. "Were they a she or a he? Not that it matters I suppose, I'm sure either way they were beautiful. They always are aren't they? They glow like an angel, and it's hard to believe that such an astounding being could even allow you to stand with them." I laugh breathily. "Mine's a self-righteous asshole, yours?" I don't wait for an answer. "I bet they were big on talking given your stoic attitude. Maybe they were a little clumsy, always smiling brightly and laughing, am I close?" We lapse back into silence for a moment.
I sigh after a minute of quiet. "You know, for what it's worth, I'm sorry." My expression twists at the thought of losing Wilfred. "I can't imagine your pain, but I'm still sorry for whatever it is that made you hate my kind so much." I start strong, but grow steadily quieter as I continue.
The silence returns.
More time passes, and soon enough the door to the cell creaks open. The light that pours in lets me know it is daytime, but also burns my eyes so badly that I have to turn away from it. "Well, or little Luna seems to be acclimating." Connor's mocking voice reaches my ears, but I'm still too preoccupied with rubbing my sore eyes to find his figure.
Connor tsks disapprovingly and I hear him take a few steps towards me. "You seem so, what's the word, whole. For now at least." He chuckles sickeningly, and I can just see his crazed expression as my eyes adjust. From the corner of my eye, I can see the rouge who had been in the cell with me, staring on at us with little interest. Connor's stocky beta doesn't even twitch as his eyes lock with mine. He watches me silently as Connor approaches.
I don't try to run as Connor reaches me. He just kneels to get on my level, his fingers stretching out to pull at the collar of my shirt. His touch is revolting, causing my stomach to curl. He tugs the fabric to the side and hums in amusement. "Wilfred marked you? I see the brat does have some balls after all." He laughs. "How fun, I get to break his favorite toy!"
My face twists at his words, but I say nothing, silently accepting the torment. Connor raises a suspicious eyebrow, smile never leaving his face. "Hmm, no reaction? Come now..." Connor pulls a small blade from his side and hold it to my neck. I lurch at the feeling of cool steel against such a sensitive area and gulp involuntarily. I feel my body go slightly weak from terror at the thought of the real torture finally beginning. Connor leans into me so that his lips graze my ear. "Where's the fun in that?"
My eyes widen slightly, if possible. Connor's beta just gazes at us, the same lack of interest never letting up as he crosses the room to exit the cell. His turned back is the last thing I see before the sting of Connor's blade rips through my neck.
***
It's late, I is tired.
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