Song: Must Have Been The Wing by Alec Benjamin
Words: 1760
Published: August 21st, 2020
Third Person POV
Rayna
When Rayna wakes up after inhaling that gas, the first thing she feels is pain.
Everywhere.
Her throat burns. She has bruises all over her body—cuts, as well. Her muscles and lungs ache, and she can barely feel her wolf, who is unable to heal her right away like usual. She still feels lightheaded and dizzy, but not as much. What hurts her that most is that her parts hurt, too . . .
As she comes to her senses, and realizes that she's laying on the floor, naked.
She sits up slowly, but even so, the movement makes her stomach churn. She gags, and when she realizes that her throat is sore, she crawls across the room to the opposite corner to vomit what little food she can left on her stomach and a white substance.
She hacks a bit before backing herself into her corner and curling up into the fetal position. Earlier, the last she wanted was to cry, but now, it's all she can do. Tears stream endlessly down her cheeks. Harsh sobs wrack her entire body, though she stays silent. No one should hear her sadness. Her entire body feels weak.
'Harley . . . I am so, so sorry, Harley. I'm sorry.'
She feels disgusting. She is repulsed at herself. She starts clawing at her skin, starting to make this dirty feeling on every inch of her skin go away.
Suddenly, she remembers her mates words.
"I give all of me to you and only you for the rest of my life."
"I will never leave you, Rayna. I can promise you that, and I'll tell you everyday for the rest of our lives to make you believe it."
"I love you."
"I care about you more than I thought I could ever care about anyone."
Rayna takes a deep breath. Then another, and another, and another, until the salty tears go away.
Harley won't care if she's been touched again. He'll still love her no matter what.
She looks down there, and there's isn't any sticky white substance, so maybe there's a chance that what she thinks happened didn't happen. She doubts it.
She wipes the tears off of her face with the back of her hand. Remember the plan, Rayna, she says to herself. You can do this.
*~*~*~*
A small slot in the bottom half of the door opens, instantly earning Rayna's attention, and multiple pieces of fabric are slipped through.
She waits for a second, but nothing happens. Cautiously, she crawls over. She picks up the fabrics, and they're a set of clothes. A black sports bra, underwear, and a pair of black spandex shorts. She sighs and puts them on. It's better than nothing.
A few minutes later, the door opens.
In walks a rogue in human form. It's painfully obvious by their dirty skin, messy hair, and disgusting scent.
They hold a blank expression.
"Stand up," they order in a monotone voice.
Obediently, Rayna stands up, though slowly to avoid a head rush.
The rogue pulls out a pair of handcuffs, grab Rayna's wrists, and locks her into the cuffs. Luckily, the cuffs aren't silver or laced with wolfsbane, like Rayna had feared.
YOU ARE READING
Little Dahlia
FantasyHe's the Alpha King. She's the adopted daughter of the Beta. He's feared. She's abused. He's strong enough to break bones. She can barely heal. He's smart. She has dyslexia and dyscalculia. He's confident. She has anxiety. He's hopeful. She has depr...
