Darkness (II)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The next morning, I awoke to shouts.

At first they didn't register; I was too far gone in the throes of sleep to detect anything other than the feeling of sheets gliding against my bare thighs. I simply turned my head into my pillow, murmuring contentedly.

However, as the screams increased in volume, my dreams faded into nothingness and I shot up in my bed.

I stumbled upwards, my feet snagging on the ruffled covers. My heart banged against my ribcage, stuttering and screaming, forcing me towards the drawn curtains. We're under attack. We're under attack. We're under attack.

My hands flew upwards and grasped the heavy material before throwing it sideways. Light exploded into the room and for a moment I couldn't see, blinded by the searing sunlight and my own panic. My blood was singing beneath my skin, though not for joy nor power; it was screeching, curdling and lapsing, desperately pleading that I checked what was happening.

My sight returned after what felt like aeons and relief flooded through me as if fed by an intravenous drip. The shouts were in fact hollers of encouragement, and the grunts of pain were merely results of training. Men and women alike were outside, barely clothed and fighting ferociously.

I sighed deeply, feeling the weight lift from my chest. This was a sight I was used to; the blood, the sweat, the pain....they were all elements of my past, ingrained into me like stains upon white cloth.

Part of me ached to join in. Even Vilkov and Lexus were there, throwing well-aimed kicks and punches at each-other until their bodies became blurs, burning harshly against the green backdrop. It was what I was good at...it was what I was bred to do.

Fighting was as much a part of me as my power was.

Thea, who was cheering for Damien as he easily took down a pack warrior, noticed me by the window and smiled, motioning wildly for me to come down. I rolled my eyes but slunk towards the wardrobe, requiring little convincing.

I emerged outside a matter of minutes later, clothed in a t-shirt and shorts. I'd concealed my mark, of course, and tied my hair back, leaving me with a short ponytail that thumped against my neck disconsolately.