Alpha King and I

Chapter 4: Kidnapped

We had been driving for hours before we got here. By now it was maybe ten or eleven am, but in the room Mother left me in I couldn't see the sun. It was just him and I in here. He who seemed just as comfortable with this darkly lit windowless room, as I was uncomfortable. Things were getting worse by the moment for me.

When I had first entered and saw him. His strong jaw and muscled arms cross, with a face giving away an age potentially similar to mine, I was slightly relieved. Not much, but still things were just a little bit less worse than I expected. Then things got awful.

He took one look at me, and for the first time in my life, I saw a bright pastel green grey aura flourish from around his being. I had no idea what it meant. Beautiful like trees and fog all mixed into one. So strong in color I had to close my eyes just to prevent further pain to the irises. But when I opened my eyes again, the aura was gone. Completely gone. I stepped back in shock. This had never happened before in my entire life. Something was wrong. Very wrong. I stepped back again and a low growl came from him. Deep and terrifying. So much so I jumped at the sound. I was going to turn around to whisper/beg my mother to be able to leave, but she was gone and the door was locked. Next thing I know, he is towering over me. 

I didn't know what to do, so I did nothing but stare at his shirt. A plain red shirt which was tailored to his frame, but not super tight. It looked to be made of thick fabric too. Thick distracting fabric.  Suddenly, I had felt his hands taking mine. Rough yarn rubbing against my skin.

I shook out of my haze and tried to pull away. He laughed. I pulled harder. He tied tighter. I felt the urge to kick him. My whole being screamed no, but it was that or whatever the hell is happening here might continue. I'm not very strong, but I need to try. I disregarded every emotion around me, the weight of my fear, and got ready to do the necessary. I was just about to lift my leg toward kicking him, but he pressed against it with his own much bigger and stronger leg.

"You know you don't want to do that. You're not like that, are you? Little werewolf. " I stopped. This guy might be crazy. Very crazy. But how would he know me? Maybe mother told him of me. I shivered at the thought.

I've always been like this. Overly complacent. Docile. However one wants to describe it. It was odd hearing a complete stranger who was possibly insane point it out. Even mother didn't. But it was true. It's who I am. Though I need to not let him know that.

I spat out, "I will kick you!" He finally stopped. By then my hands were already tied. Before I could react to try and escape, he grabbed me again. As if I were some type of down pillow, he threw me across the room onto the couch. I hit it with a thud. He then stared at me. Intensely glaring.

My whole body became consumed with a burning sensation. My teeth held together tight as if they were zipped shut, while the rest of me stayed unmoving as I continued to be washed over with what felt like hot lava curdling my blood.

What the hell was happening?!

I tried with all my might to get out to release myself from this agony, but nothing worked. Just our eyes locked and this unbearable pain.

He looked away.

The pain stopped. I stayed laying there, unable to get up and unsure if I even wanted to. The moment of boldness that was there ran away on its own flight or fight instinct, leaving me to wither.

I guess I would just need to wait. Like always. My mother wouldn't leave me to a crazy man would she? She might hate me, but she does have a reputation to keep at least.

This remembrance keeps me hopeful. I cling to it as I analyze my surroundings further. Trying to figure out what is going on.

There is no bed here, it looks more like an empty studio apartment. The crazy man, I'll nickname him Gustav for now, since he's also rather good looking, is near what might be a small kitchen cooking something in a pot of water.  Beside him is a counter with some rags on it, and a table with an old looking knife. The knife had possibly an ivory handle or some other type of off white material. I did not shine and had a slight roughness to it. Like a rock would. The knifes cutting point was lined with some type of purple solid, but I don't think it was a metal. It was extremely sharp looking.  He hasn't gone to the knife in this time, or tried to keep it out of reach in anyway. This makes me more nervous.

How crazy or comfortable must he be with his own strength that he would leave such a blade just hanging around on a table? I look back at him.

He's looking at me again, but nothing is happening this time. I look down toward his neck. Only seeing his face with my peripheral vision. 

Gustav comments, "There is only one way to knock out a werewolf," Not finishing the sentence, he just turns away. Instead taking a fist full of the rags. My breathing hitches in my throat as various fears race through my mind.

He drops the rags in the pot. I can hear bubbling. Some of the steam that was cooking off, disappears for a moment as the liquid adjusts to the temperature change from the fabrics. Was this that one drug they always talk about in the movies?  Chlor-something?

I try to calm down, but my heart is beating like a frantic quail's flying. It's loud too, pounding in my chest.

The steam starts up again. So does he.

"boiling water." He grabs the rags out of the water with his bare hands, his skin to my surprise unscathed. Steam is rolling off the rags though like mad. I use any strength I still have and desperately try to get up, to no avail.

I don't manage to blink before I suddenly feel the wet scalding hot cloth suffocating me. Filling my nose with steam and blistering my face. Energy finally hits me and I muffle out sounds of pain. His weight is on top of me so I still can't move. I blink ravenously as my eyes too get hit with the boiling water. My body jerking as much as it can under the heaviness. I felt heavier and heavier as he pressed the rag harder against my face. I stopped screaming. Moving. My vision was littered with black spots.

Then, it all went black.