Mid-panic I felt it. Flutter, wriggle, calming me down. Forcing me to think, to be logical, to stop panicking. It wasn't helping. I had to stay in control. Nick and Antonio were injured. I didn't know any more than that and I couldn't assume anything yet. If I did, I'd loose it, I'd scream, I'd cry, I'd loose the ability to keep my inner wolf at bay. Calm. I had to stay calm. My rings were gone. I missed them, fingering the skin where they'd been, breathing in and out as I pictured them.
There was no lights, nothing, not even a crack. But the world was still moving backward and forwards. Was it the panic or was the entire room moving?
It took me a few minutes to understand, to cut through my panic, that this was a boat I was on. The ground felt metallic. Maybe it was a ship again. What if he tipped me overboard? Again the panic flared, again I forced it down. If he wanted to harm me he wouldn't have drugged me. He wouldn't have cared if the babies were hurt or not.
Why hadn't he harmed them? That question should have been my priority right now. What did he expect? I was his property, as far as he was concerned, so did he consider them as belonging to him too? Or was this a message to Jeremy? Stealing the offspring from his pack? I didn't know. I wished I could ask Elena or Clayton about it, they knew about werewolf pissing contests, they knew what lengths they'd go to. I did know that he wanted to capture Elena's daughter, not kill her, and that may have been a hint.
He hadn't harmed me either. The cuts from glass, I noticed, had been cleaned, the glass removed, the ties around my wrists not tight enough to cut in too much, and I'd been left dressed as I was when he found me. No cell or wallet. Damn. No extra spoon hidden up another sleeve. Maybe I'd go for another girly item next time. A knitting needle or something. Curling iron. Roller. Frying pan.
I had to stop thinking about it and breathe. That had become difficult over the past few weeks as the stomach got bigger and it had to be a priority. One, two, three, four. inhale. One, two, three, four, exhale. I repeated it, sitting there, stroking my stomach under the fabric.
Another flare of panic, what if I ran out of air? No, I had to stop that, because the air wasn't stale. It was more or less fresh and I might have been here for a while. Clearly if he'd gone to the effort of getting someone to get the glass out of my hands and knees, he wasn't interested in letting me suffocate and he wouldn't have bothered wasting his breath telling someone to spend time locating and removing big and little shards of glass.
One, two, three, exhale. One, two, three, inhale. I shut my eyes, opened them, and waited.
Time ticked past. Hours, minutes, I didn't know. It wasn't cold in here, it wasn't too hot either, but it was quiet. I kept myself occupied, trying to pretend that everything was all right, that I was fine, planning the nursery as if this was a very normal thing to do when you'd just seen the father and grandfather of your children potentially killed and you were sitting in a dark room that even your night vision couldn't get through.
The sudden vibration of the wall made me flinch, sliding up to my feet, muscles tense. Then another vibration, this one much stronger, like something had struck the outside of the walls. Doors at one end were flung open, blinding me, the bright light and shadows moving in it making me flinch as I stood there, tense, ready for another fight.
"Poor Pet." The voice cooed, though it didn't sound entirely believable, like he was trying to comfort a chair instead of a person. "You were not supposed to be in the isolation room. Seems my servant disobeyed me."
There was a sickening crunch of something in the blinding light and slowly it started to make sense, a room outside this one, the alpha standing there, a now dying humans neck under his feet. I couldn't look. Instead I stared at him directly in the eyes, a challenge for a moment, then thought better of it, directing my gaze to the wall beside him instead. I had to stay calm and let him think I was safe. Well, safe for someone who'd jammed a spoon into someone's skull in front of him.
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Hunter - Book 2 of the Hunted Series
FanfictionAnne, an Australian, has escaped and has started to heal. Even now though that werewolf, who calls himself Master, who bit her and tortured her for almost a year is close on her tail. She doesn't know if she's hunting him or if he's hunting her. S...
