What Lurks in Her Eyes

Chapter Seven: Skeleton

Song: You Found Me by The Fray

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Anya could hardly even walk because the muscle mass in her legs had deteriorated from starvation. She kept stumbling beside me.

But every time I'd catch her, she would flinch and terror would strike like lightening in her eyes.

She did not want to be touched.

She feared my touch.

That fact hurt me, because as mates, our touch is supposed to bring comfort to one another. But now, I can't do anything to help her because she is so scared of me she nearly passes out when I go to touch her.

But as we walk down the frozen streets together, she's shivering. Her teeth chatter and her steps are slow and she limps unsteadily, like she is going to topple over any minute.

I shrug off my jacket and freeze in my steps. Anya stops too, and she looks down at her bare feet, cowering in fear. I drape the jacket over her frame and help her arms through the holes. She's almost like a child, but how can I blame her when she's known nothing but slavery all of her life?

She doesn't know society's norms. She doesn't know a lot about the outside world because this slave life is all she's ever known.

She hasn't had a chance to grow and mature, because the only thing she was trained for in life was to please a master in whatever way they deemed fit.

"B-but you will be c-cold, Master." She says, her voice barely above a whisper. I catch a hint of Russian accent in her voice.

"Don't worry about me, Anya. You need it more than I do. Remember, I am not your Master. I am Donovan." I tell her.

"I-I'm sorry. Punish me in whatever way you want for my i-insolence." She stutters.

"You did nothing wrong. It was an honest mistake. Even if you did do anything wrong, I still wouldn't punish you." I reply. She seems confused by that notion.

So we continue walking down the cold streets of Moscow. Anya's steps become slower and slower each passing minute. Her breaths are labored and she whimpers in pain.

Damn it. I can stand to hear this any longer, it's making my wolf upset. It was true, my wolf was whining when he heard her whimpering in pain. I know he wants to put Anya on his back that is carpeted with thick, black fur. He wants to feel her finger thread through his warm fur as he walks down the street.

My wolf has always taken pride in his shiny, thick black coat, and he wants nothing more than to flaunt his fur to his mate. He wants to show her that he can keep her warm, comfortable, and safe.

But, since he can't do that right now, he wants me to comfort her. And finally, I give in. She may be terrified, but this is for her own good.

"I'm sorry, Anya." I whisper. I don't give her a time to react before I sweep her off her feet and into my arms. She lets out a cute squeal of surprise which makes me chuckle.

I carry her bridal style and hug her firmly against my chest. My jacket is so big on her that it hits the tops of her knees and drowns her mouth in its warmth. The sleeves are way too long on her so I can't make out where her arms are.

It's like I'm carrying a burrito in my arms.

She smells of dirt and rotting flesh and I know that she's going to have to take a bath of some sort.

She trembles in fear, though, and I feel guilty for putting her in this situation. But I know that it was just not healthy to let her walk. She's so close to being pushed into the comatose-like state vampires can get in if they get to the point where they are so malnourished.