Cry Wolf

Chapter Eight - The Runaway

The Runaway

I stare into the flames dancing in front of my wide eyes. I've gone into some strange state of detachment. I can hear Liam's voice but my brain is no longer able to process his words. Instead I focus on the pain steadily increasing from the horrible bite on my neck.

Liam's mark that made me his.

It's not fair. I don't belong to him. I don't belong to anyone.

There's a pinch in my arm and a chemical taste in my mouth. Suddenly, the pain is gone and I'm on a high.

He just drugged me.

My eyes grow heavy so I let them close, feeling myself slipping into the abyss. I'm aware of Liam picking me up into his arms and carrying me back to bed. Then I fall into a dreamless sleep, the nothingness cold and unsettling.

When I wake the sun is up and there's a breakfast tray on the nightstand. I'm all alone and that horrible emptiness inside my heart has returned. My stomach is nauseous and once again I'm rushing to the bathroom to vomit from the drugs. When I'm done I splash cold water on my face and pull myself together.

I hate this. I hate the way I feel. I don't want any more of those damn shots.

Going back to the bedroom I sit on the bed. I feel much better now so I eat my breakfast with a strange sense of calm. There's a clean shirt and a pair of sweats laid out on the foot of the bed. Picking them up I shuffle back to the bathroom and inspect my neck. The wound is looking much better and I wonder how long I've slept.

It would definitely leave a scar. A vicious scar forever marking me as Liam's.

A mixture of both pleasure and sadness washes over me at that thought. The conflicted emotions are confusing. My brain just can't focus on that now so I shove it out of my head.

Deciding I no longer need the bandage I toss it in the trash and take a hot shower. Even in my detached state I groan with appreciation as the water strikes my sore muscles from multiple shower heads.

Tugging on my shirt a familiar scent strikes me. Raising the shirt collar to my nose I sniff the fabric, my eyelids fluttering with pleasure.

Liam.

This is Liam's shirt. The sweats are too. And far too big, I have to roll them up at my waist. Rolling the legs up to my calves I give myself a quick look over in the mirror. Liam's clothes drown my figure and any few curves I might have disappear under the baggy fabric.

I look ridiculous.

My lips tugging into a crazy smile I head back to the bedroom. I'm completely losing my mind. It's this place. It's that man. I can't stay here. I need to get the hell away.

My detachment evaporates to one of desperation. I have to escape.

Do not run.

I jump, glancing around. The voice was so much louder and clearer than it had ever been before.

Was that really my wolf?

And why wouldn't I run? Survival one-o-one, get as far away from the crazies as you can.

He is not crazy. He is our alpha.

I don't even fully understand what that means.

He is ours.

"He doesn't want us," I hiss into the air.

There's no response. Sighing, I lay back on the bed and mull over my options. I'm guessing the bedroom door is locked and even if I got it open I have no idea of the layout or the best route of escape.