Shielding the Beast (discontinued)

Twenty-Six | Reunion

Unedited.

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A palm gently pats the side of my face, slowly pulling me out of the darkness.

"Come on, Amber. Almost there," the same strange voice says from beside me.

My eyelids finally flicker open, the starry night sky greeting me.

"Ey, there she is. C'mon Killer, sit up."

Registering the presence sitting next to me, my muscles immediately come alive, bolting me in the opposite direction.

The grass of the hillside is cool beneath my bare feet, and the night air refreshing against my skin. A single tree stands behind me on the hill, leaves gently waving in the faint breeze.

This is a place of peace, and yet here I am, alarms ringing in my head with feral instincts ready to spill blood all over this beautiful place.

A burning gaze lands on the stranger, the silver barely held back in my eyes. Every ounce of hatred in my being is put into that stare, trying as if it were actually possible to set his skin aflame. I stand, facing this stranger, tense and ready to lunge at any second.

He gets to his feet slowly in return, leaving his physique vulnerable for me to rake over and size up. He's of a medium frame, muscular yet not bulky. His hair is a spiky collection of various shades of blond, most of it being darker with lighter streaks throughout.

Certain vibes coming off of him bring one word to mind: sly. The partial smirk on his face is unique. It isn't of arrogance, but rather a roguish streak. Something tells me that it's simply there by default. The mischievous look held in his brown eyes is somehow familiar... somehow nostalgic. But I still can't place it.

"How the hell do you know my name?" The words are forced through grinding canines.

His expression saddens, his shoulders visibly dropping.

"You don't recognize me? I gotta admit, Am, I'm hurt."

My eyes narrow further in suspicion.

Why does he act like we know each other?

"You have five seconds to explain to me who you are before your head is floating in that pier," A constant growl vibrates in my throat as I say it, pointing a threatening finger towards the ocean at the vast bottom of the hillside.

"Hmm," he shifts his weight casually, unaffected by the situation, "Not even a guess?"

I may be looked at as a monster with no morals or empathy, but I keep my word. And his five seconds are up.

Within an instant our bodies are colliding, ending in mine pinning his back roughly to the ground. I straddle him, pulling back a forceful, clawed hand in preparation to rake it across his throat.

But I never do. Upon seeing one little thing in my peripheral vision, my muscles turn to stone on the spot with a cold shock settling in my chest. Frozen in place, my eyes lock intently on the thing.

A silver pendent lays on his chest, rising and falling with each of his breaths. A feral wolf head, its mouth open as if it were lunging to bite an unfortunate victim. Between the teeth of the wolf an actual fang is held, its color darkened with age. Attached to the pendent is a thin silver chain, laying loosely around his neck.