Skinned

Valerie

Ethereal.

Despite the marks of war that his features were bearing, he still managed to look hauntingly beautiful. Instead of wearing the look of agony, his face had toned down into something of tranquility, with his perfectly arched eyebrows set straight, eyes closed without pressure as his vast eyelashes rested upon his cheeks. Cuts and bruises blemished the top of his forehead, and there were also a few on the sides of his sharp jaw. The bandages wrapped securely around the large expanse of his torso tightened at every rise and fall of his muscled chest. The lower part of his body was hidden beneath the sheets, obscuring the sight of the entirety of him.

“What is he?” Emma questioned from behind me, her voice contained within as whisper. And like any other werewolf, she couldn’t hold herself anywhere within a ten feet radius from the male; the threat of him loud and clear.

The only assurance of safety she had on herself was the thick silver shackles that bound his wrists and ankles onto the bed.

“I ask myself the same thing,” I mumbled, standing up from the chair to check the distribution of the IV fluid hung on the side of the man’s bed.

I was affected by him as well, but it never reached to the point where even the proximity of the male brought me to my submission. I wasn’t sure if it was the antiserum, my wrong dosage causing its effects to increase tenfold and block my instincts as a werewolf, or maybe I was just born with a will that was not easy to bend.

The latter sounded better.

“Valerie.”

I looked over my shoulder and saw Beta Reed standing beside a very flustered Emma. While he was standing with the familiar stoical posture that suited a Beta, the short female on his right had her brown eyes lowered, lower lip caught between her teeth as she tried to fight her own inner turmoil.

“Beta Reed,” I turned around to greet him with a courteous nod of my head. I glanced at the unconscious male on the bed before making my way into my office. “Let’s go.”

Beta Reed took his place on the cushioned seat in front of my desk, leaning back against the seat with open legs before raking a hand through his dark hair.

I pawed for a certain object inside my coat pocket and successfully took it out, opening the palm of my hand to see the sharp-ended silver bullet that held the dry remnants of the outsider’s blood, the appearance of it holding the promise of pain upon its victims.

I could recall how mortified Emma and I were when I pulled out the first bullet stuck inside the male’s chest. The size of it was three inches long, as if it was truly meant to be buried deep through a werewolf’s flesh.

“He took fourteen shots of this,” I told Beta Reed and placed the single piece of ammo in front of him. His hand was quick to take the tiny piece of death and let a fingertip brush the sharp end of the bullet.

“Humans,” Beta Reed easily concluded.

“I think he belonged to a pack,” I mumbled, my eyes focused on the window in front of me before looking through the open door to check for the male. “His pack must’ve been attacked.”

Beta Reed shot me a look, questioning my presumption, “Can’t you smell it right off of him, Valerie? He can’t be in a pack, he’s not a werewolf. Even if something is felt strongly within him, that beast is definitely not endowed by the Moon.”

“Always the Moon,” I scoffed. “I see you’re still welcoming the knowledge fed to you by your elders, including their lies made to justify the nature of our kind.”

Truly, it bothered me to no end; how easily these wolves could be deceived was beyond me.

Generations upon generations, the tale of the Moon was passed down, poisoning the werewolves’ knowledge of their true origin. Magic did not have a place in this world, but biology did. Sadly, they preferred the one easier to understand.

Fantasy is easier to comprehend than factuality.

Beta Reed released a low, feral growl and flashed a teeth my way, displeasure etched from the darkness covering his eyes.

It was before the Beta could say something in offense when a male juvenile entered the office, his scrawny figure dripping with sweat and blood from a rough day at training.

“What?” Beta Reed gritted out and shot a scowl at the young male who immediately stiffened in response.

“Alpha Azeil asks for you in the penitentiary sector,” the blond juvenile anxiously informed with the tone of his voice cracking at the last spoken word.

“I’m on my way,” Beta Reed quickly said and stood up from his seat, turning to me with one last warning glare before leaving the place with the boy following closely behind him.

I released a breath and left my office as well, my hands buried deep into the pockets of my coat.

My eyes landed on Emma seated on a chair with a bunch of papers in her hands. She had been bombarded by many things in such a short amount of time that the color in her face had already been drained out, her energy completely spent and gone by the close of day.

“You can go now, Em,” I smiled at her reassuringly. She looked up from the papers and raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

“It’s not even the end of my shift yet. Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Your sister needs you most; don’t you want to cook dinner for her early?”

“Thank you, Val,” Em beamed up at me before glancing at the male on the hospital bed. “Will you be fine with him?”

I nodded and let out a soft laugh, “I’ll be fine, he’s sedated.”

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Thanks a lot, Val,” she began to gather up the papers and sent me one final grin before leaving the room completely.

With the last person out of the infirmary, I was left alone with the male that reeked of havoc.

“Just you and me,” I muttered and shot him a grin. But my humor was quickly withdrawn and replaced by discomfort at the sudden feeling of itch latching onto my skin.

My hand involuntarily came down to my arm, scratching with vigor against the fabric of my coat to get rid of the sudden irritation that never seemed to subside.

“Ah, fuck,” I winced when I felt my skin break. I immediately pulled back my sleeve to check for the damage and felt the air leave my lungs, forcing my heart to stop beating and my limbs to grow numb in terror of the sight that met my eyes.

Black, ugly veins slithered beneath my paling skin. The punctures engraved by the syringes still appeared fresh and unsealing, and it even expanded in size.

I drew in a breath, tracing the darkened lines with a grim look crossing over my face.

It was the sound of the shackles being dragged had me dropping my hold on my arm and looking over to the direction of the sound, and I immediately found myself stunned at what stared back at me.

Two very distinct eye colors regarded me quietly, with his left iris having the color of hazel, and the right holding a perpetual glow of blue.

Heterochromia.

It was the first time that he had opened his eyes since he was discovered by the lake, and I couldn’t find the strength in me to speak a word as I found myself smothered with enchantment by the eyes that scorched my skin; his gaze compelling, holding me in place as he consumed the image of me.

I could feel the heat of his stare, starting from my stricken features, to my neck, and down to my legs before coming back up to meet my eyes again.

I was not the observer, he was.

I couldn’t hold my eye contact with the male as my shoulders hunched on its own accord from the mere challenge of his gaze, feeling unnerved by his right glowing eye that seemed as if it belonged to the beast hidden beneath him.

“Where am I?” He questioned, the sound of his voice easily reaching out to caress my ears.

Deep and velvety.

“Do you remember what happened to you?” I asked him, completely brushing off his question as I watched him cautiously; anticipating the havoc that he was capable of causing.

The male’s eyebrows furrowed, and let his attention fall from me and slide over to the window in front of him.

With his jaw clenched and soft lips pressed together into a tight line, he looked like he was trying his best to collect his thoughts as the mere effort of looking back onto his past only brought agony to his brain.

A frustrated look crossed his sharp features, “I don’t know. I can’t remember.”

He tried to sit up, but abruptly released a breath when he felt the injuries inflicted upon his chest.

“Stay down,” I told him nonchalantly and approached him to elevate his bed while he kept his eyes trailed on his bounded wrists, thinking.

“Do you at least know your name?”

As if broken from his reverie, he looked up at me with parted lips, giving me a closer view of his unique dilated blue eye that threatened and lured me at the same time.

The male tried to process his own mind once again, digging deep and searching into his memories.

And with a dignified glint to his eyes, he opened his mouth to answer my question with an ease to his husky voice.

“Killian.”