Werewolves and Vampires

Chapter 41: Turn Around

My eyes darted anxiously around the cave. This was the third time I’d fallen asleep and woken up to find Caleb gone today…I think. It’d been what felt like over a day now that I’d just been sleeping and waking up alone.

With each time I woke up I did feel a bit better. My injuries seemed to be healing up quite nicely and I supposed it was because of the wolf in me.

“Hello, little pup,” Caleb cried gleefully as he appeared in the shadows of the cave. Once again his knife was in hand and bloody, and he took his usual place by the fire to clean it.

“Where do you keep going?” I asked quietly, my voice still sounding slightly raspy from no water. If I didn’t get water soon I’d die before Caleb’s plan could be executed.

“None of your business,” he snapped, his face suddenly contorting into a scowl. I growled at him.

He dropped the rag on the floor and made his way over to me, sitting in a crouch position with his knife pressed against the hollow of my throat. I swallowed hard but glared at him.

“Getting a little brave now, aren’t we?” he taunted, pressing the sharp point of his curved knife even more firmly against my throat.

“Of course that’s not going to help you. I’ve been around for much longer than you have,” he told me, “So I know a lot more tricks and moves.”

He looked up at the ceiling once before looking down at me, a smug smile on his face. I longed to reach out and slap him. Hard.

“Long story short is you will never be able to beat me,” he said, leaning forward so his knife pressed against my throat even more. I felt it pierce my flesh slightly and felt blood start leaking down from the wound.

He placed his knife carefully on the floor, “You will die if you try to escape and fight me," he said, cradling my face in his hands while I continued to glare.

“And your soul mate…” he trailed off, his hands pausing on their descent down my neck, “Well we know what will happen to him,” he chuckled.

I flinched at the sound while his hands slid down to hold my neck. He dipped his head and kissed my throat.

I shuddered. It was wrong. Wyatt used to do that, not Caleb.

“I wonder what losing a soul mate feels like,” he pondered allowed, his lips moving as he spoke against my neck.

I didn’t dare say a word. I was in too much of a dangerous position. If he bit my neck he could kill me, much faster than when he bit my arm or thigh.

My breathing had begun to get raspy and shallow again, and my heart was pounding out an erratic rhythm in my temples.

“I bet it feels like a part of your soul is just being ripped away,” he said it gently, but when he got to ‘ripped’ his voice turned rough. I felt his tongue draw across the wound on my neck. It stung and burned and I tried not to move against the pain.

“And I bet he’d fall to his knees, crying and screaming in agony because it hurt so much,” he said, and suddenly I could picture it clearly in my mind.

Wyatt on his knees screaming, pulling at his hair, convulsing on the floor. I tried to push the image from my mind; it hurt too much to look at.

“And it’d be all your fault for hurting him,” Caleb continued.

“No,” I whispered, the image still stuck in my head; the screams and the cries grated on my eardrums.

“Yes, Lila. And once you’re dead it’ll be his turn, and once again it’ll be all your fault when he gets hurt,” Caleb said, his voice low and rough.