Slain

Someone like me could be a real nightmare, completely aware

But I’d rather be a real nightmare than die unaware

-Nightmare, Halsey

The trek back to Fluffy’s pack is slow and boring, but I’m grateful for the brief peace. It gives me time to think about everything that’s happened the last few weeks. Everything happened so fast I haven’t had the time to process anything.

Though I try not to focus on it, Fluffy and his insistence that we’re mates occupies my thoughts far more than any of my other issues. I would think that almost dying might be of higher priority to me, but apparently not. Everything seems to come back to that stupid word: mates. My mind knows it’s not possible, but something in me believes otherwise. And the more time I spend with the wolves, the stronger that belief gets, which worries me.

“Give me your knife,” Fluffy says, startling me out of my thoughts.

I look up at him in confusion as I slip it from my waistband and hand it to him. “Why?”

“For now, it’s probably best that you aren’t armed.”

I snap my mouth shut, offended. Does he really think so low of me?

“Not because I don’t trust you to have it,” he adds quickly, noticing my tight jaw. “It will make the wolves feel more at ease if you’re unarmed and it might help our case.”

I avert my eyes to the darkening sky peeking through the trees, embarrassed. I continue to expect the worst from him, and he continues to prove me wrong.

“Does the alpha know?” Akira asks from behind me.

Fluffy sighs and nods. “He was trying to give us time to sort things out.”

“The other alphas won’t appreciate that,” Akira points out.

“That’s why we don’t tell them.”

Akira furrows his brow. “You don’t think they’ll know he was aware of her the minute she was in his presence?”

Fluffy shrugs. “We can hope. It’ll be best if we don’t offer any information up unless specifically asked.”

“But Beta…that’s deplorable,” one of his wolfs chimes in.

Fluffy turns to him with sharp eyes. “Who are you loyal to? Your pack or the other twelve?” The wolf cowers under Fluffy’s harsh tone, giving Fluffy his answer. “This is not the time to become divided,” he says, addressing all of the wolves around us. “We need to stay strong as a pack; dark times are coming.”

The sound of yipping pups reaches my ears, signaling our arrival at the pack. My stomach knots with nerves. Now that my secret is public knowledge, I’m afraid Fluffy’s pack will accept me even less than they did before. The only thing that I can depend on is their loyalty to their beta, but what if Fluffy decides I’m not worth fighting for anymore? What if the alpha’s offer him the choice between me and his pack, his family? I would be dead instantly.

I try to shove the thought away, an ache forming in my chest, but it stays in the back of my mind like a shadow, tainting my thoughts with its darkness.

As we break through the tree line a cool breeze blows through our group, raising goosebumps across my skin. It was uncharacteristically cold for this time of year and I can’t help but think that it’s an indicator of how the wolves will treat me.

My eyes wander over the cordwood homes that line the dirt path through the pack, meeting eyes with a couple young wolves playing in the grass. Their mother, who had been sitting on the steps of her house stitching a pair of pants, hurriedly ushers them from my sight, her expression hard as she stares after me.

I glare at her in irritation. Why should she get to judge me based on my ancestors?

“Welcome back,” a deep voice says wearily. Forgetting the woman, I look around the wolf walking in front of me, meeting Scruffy’s gaze. His expression tells me nothing, but his eyes seem tired.

“How have things been here,” Fluffy asks as Scruffy falls into step with us.

Scruffy sighs, rubbing his forehead. “The pack is doing fine if that’s what you mean.”

“You’ve heard from the alphas then?” We enter the pack house and saunter into the great hall. I remember being brought here when I was first taken prisoner by Fluffy’s wolves.

Scruffy stops and turns to us, his eyes full of regret as he nods. Hands are suddenly grasping at me, pulling my arms behind my back and holding tight to my shoulders. “What the hell?” I shout as I struggle against them, fear crawling up my throat. Are they finally going to kill me?

Fluffy steps toward me intending on freeing me, but Scruffy stops him. “No, Ajax. The alphas have requested she be restrained and contained until the trial.”

A low growl rumbles from Fluffy’s chest as he turns back to his alpha. “This is ridiculous, she’s my mate. Pack law protects her from this treatment.”

“No, pack law protects wolves from this treatment,” Scruffy snaps, his voice full of authority. “She isn’t a wolf, she’s a Leonae. Be glad they didn’t decide to kill her without a trial.”

“You aren’t keeping her in a cell.” Fluffy doesn’t back down, despite the warning in his alpha’s eyes.

“I will do what I think is best and if you don’t get ahold of yourself, I’ll have to restrain you as well.”

Fluffy’s eyes begin to glow in challenge. “Then that’s what you’ll have to do.”

Scruffy jerks his head toward Fluffy and the remaining wolves seize him, forcing his arms back behind him and shoving him to his knees. Scruffy glares down at him, but Fluffy refuses to avert his eyes in submission. “Take them to their room.”

With that, I’m drug out of the hall and through the corridors of the pack house, Fluffy close behind. I expect to be brought down to the cells, but strangely, we’re brought to a bed room.

The wolves open the door and I’m shoved inside; Fluffy follows seconds later and then the door is slammed shut, locking us in. I can almost see the anger rolling off of Fluffy.

“Well that was stupid,” I blurt.

He looks at me in a mixture of confusion and irritation. “What?”

“You got yourself locked in here too. That was dumb.” He lets out a cynical laugh and begins to pace across the dim room. I take a seat on the bed as I watch him, surprised by his anger. Part of me is tired of being surprised by Fluffy’s behavior, but I’m too stubborn to change my mind about him now.

“I don’t think that’s going to help much,” I say after watching him pace back and forth for a few minutes.

He glares at me. “I need to do something.”

I lay back on the bed, stretching out my tired limbs. “You can’t do anything about it so you might as well relax until the trial.”

He growls in response.

After a few more minutes of relentless pacing, I grow bored. “Fine, keep pacing. I’m going to sleep.” I kick my shoes off and crawl under the blankets, sinking into the plush mattress instantly.

The pacing stops and the room is silent for a few seconds before I hear him cross the room and snatch a pillow off the bed.

“You don’t have to sleep on the floor,” I mutter before I have time to think it through.

He freezes and I can feel his eyes on me. I stay curled on my side with my eyes closed, hoping the dark room hides my blush. Then the bed dips and his shoes hit the ground.

“But you better stay on your side.”

He chuckles at that as he lays down inches away from me. My head feels light and my stomach tightens with nerves.

Why do I feel so strange? We’re just sleeping. How many times had I done the exact same thing with Zane growing up? But yet, this feels different. It makes my whole body feel warm and tingly.

I curl into a tighter ball, squeezing my eyes shut and hoping sleep finds me quickly.

I slowly drift awake, the light from the window warming my skin. Rubbing my eyes, I roll onto my back and stretch, content. Soft breathing to my left makes me freeze, my eyes snapping open as I remember I’m not alone in the bed.

Careful not to wake him, I turn my head to see his sleeping form. He looks so peaceful, his hair messy from sleep, his dark eyelashes resting softly on his cheeks. He lays on his back, one hand thrown carelessly out to the side and the other rests on his bare stomach. With each breath he takes his defined stomach rises and falls, the muscles flexing ever so slightly. I look away quickly, my cheeks hot.

I need to get out of here and clear my head.

Sitting up, I notice a second door in the room. I carefully slip from under the blankets and rush across the room, pulling open the door and stepping inside. There’s a short window that runs along the top of the outside wall letting in daylight. I’m taken aback when I see the tub up against the far wall with soaps lined along the edge and the toilet to my left.

I glance back at the door behind me, debating on taking a quick bath. Fluffy was really tired so he’ll probably sleep the whole time anyway. I shouldn’t have to worry about him walking in on me any time soon.

The temptation of being submerged in hot water again overrules my apprehension and I move to the side of the tub to inspect the water spout. I lift the handle hesitantly and water comes rushing out, splashing into the bottom of the tub. I hurriedly place the stopper in the drain at the bottom before stepping back to watch as the water fills up, proud of myself. Then, I turn and grab a towel off of the rack beside the door and place it on the floor next to the tub before I strip my clothes off.

I step into the tub, shivers running up my body in pleasure as I sink down in the hot water. The tub is full in minutes and I flip the water spout back off before leaning back and closing my eyes. The wolves truly live in luxury.

I soak in the soothing water, letting the stress of the last month melt away into the steam. Only when the water begins to cool do I scrub the dirt from my hair and skin and climb out.

As I’m drying myself off, I realize I didn’t look for any clean clothes. I look down at the pile of soot covered clothes. I can smell the sweat on them from here.

Pulling the towel tighter around my body, I creep toward the door. I remember seeing a wardrobe by the window; surely there’s something in there I can wear, if only I can get to it. I peek into the room, glad to see Fluffy still sound asleep in the bed. The window provides me plenty of light to survey the room and I spot the wardrobe easily.

“Fluffy,” I whisper yell. He doesn’t so much as move. Deciding he’s asleep enough, I scurry from the bathroom and to the wardrobe to my left. The door creaks as I pull it open and I wince, glancing at Fluffy. When he doesn’t move, I let out a breath of relief and turn back to the wardrobe.

Clothes line the back of it and two drawers sit at the bottom. I start flipping through the hanging clothes. They all seem too big for me, so I move down to the drawers. The drawers hold shirts in one and pants in another, both in a smaller size. I snatch one from each as a voice freezes my movements.

“What are you doing?” Fluffy asks.

Clutching the clothes and towel to my chest, I stand and turn to face him. “Getting clothes, what does it look like?” I say a little harsher than I meant to, but my embarrassment prevents me from feeling bad. He doesn’t seem to care, reclined on the bed, a hand behind his head and a small smirk on his face. I appreciate that his eyes stay on my face, but that doesn’t make me feel any more comfortable standing in nothing but a towel.

“I’ve never actually seen a slayer mark before,” he says. I blush; he saw my mark.

Of course he saw my mark, it’s on my shoulder blade and I’m in a towel.

“Is it painful?” He questions, sitting up.

“No,” I mutter in confusion. “Why would it hurt?”

“It looks like it was branded on. It’s not a tattoo like I always thought.”

I reach back with one hand, running my fingers over the rough surface. “Oh. No, it never hurts.”

Silence stretches between us and I shift on my feet in discomfort. Clearing my throat, I move toward the bathing room. “I’m gonna change now…”

He nods, hiding a smile as I rush back into the room and close the door. I drop the clothes as I scold myself.

How could I let him get to me like that? He makes me nervous and I don’t understand it. It frustrates me; I’ve never had a problem being confident in myself and my feelings, but now I’m constantly questioning everything.

I quickly dress myself, muttering in irritation the whole time. Dumping my dirty clothes into the basket by the door, I walk back into the bedroom. Fluffy is still in the same position, watching me as I cross the room. I narrow my eyes at him.

He suddenly throws the blankets off of himself and gets up. “My turn.” I watch him as he crosses the room to the still open wardrobe and pulls clothes out before heading to the bathing room. He never once looks back at me, but I catch a glimpse of the smug grin on his face before he closes the door making me scowl.

Stupid, smug dog. He knows he makes me nervous and I don’t like it.

I glance around the room as I hear the sound of the water turning on. There’s nothing to do in here other than snoop around or irritate each other. Seeing as Fluffy isn’t here to irritate, I settle on snooping.

Not long into my snooping, I come across a leather-bound book with pressed lettering on the front. I brush my fingertips over the words lightly in wonder. I’ve never actually seen a leather-bound book before. Leonae typically only use reed pages or parchment rolls—both are hard to come by.

I lift the book from its place in the drawer and sit back on the bed, resting it in my lap. The leather is soft and smooth, I can only imagine how much this is worth. With a delicate touch, I flip open to the first page. The swirling text is beautiful and completely incomprehensible to me. Being a female Leonae, I was never given the opportunity to learn to read and my mother never felt the need to teach me.

The door to the bathing room swings open and Fluffy ambles out, his hair wet and rumpled. I’m relieved to see he’s fully dressed.

His eyes flick down to the book in my lap. “That’s my fathers’ work,” he says with a nod.

I look back down at it in astonishment. “Your father made this?”

“Mhm,” he sits beside me and takes the book from my hands. “It’s a collection of popular stories wolves tell. There are multiple around the pack house.” He flips through the pages, stopping on a few illustrations briefly before moving on.

“It’s beautiful.” I stare at the pages, amazed at the craftsman ship. I suppose it could be an average book and I simply don’t know the difference.

He flips past a picture of a humanoid creature with blazing eyes and large incisors bared standing over a bloody mass of wolves. “Wait, what was that?” He flips back to the illustration.

“It’s a phased Leonae.” He glances at me as if afraid I’ll be offended, but I ignore it and take the book from his hands.

Now that I can see the full picture, I realize that isn’t any Slayer, but a female. Her clothes hang off of her body in tatters, blood smeared across the fabric and dripping from the edges. Her golden eyes are wide and feral and her teeth drip with blood. Her hands, misshapen by the dark claws jutting from her fingers curl around a white pelt saturated in blood. Her hair frames her head like a mane and the resemblance to a lion is undeniable.

Something about the image unsettles me. I mean, apart from the fact that this female Leonae appears to have decimated a multitude of wolves, the look in her eyes and the blood streaking her body tell me everything I need to know. “This is how they’ll see me.” I know now with absolute certainty that the wolves won’t let me live. Any bit of hope I had, vanished.

“We can prove them wrong,” Fluffy says gently. I look up to meet his eyes, my eyebrows drawn together in a scowl.

“How? They’ve already made up their minds. This trial isn’t a trial, it’s a death sentence.” With every word I speak, the more panicked I feel. I’m like a trapped animal.

Fluffy places a hand on mine in an attempt to comfort me, but I’m having none of it. I jerk away from him, jumping to my feet. “I need to escape,” I mutter, beginning to pace the room. Multiple escape routes speed through my mind. Luckily, I know this pack decently well; that will make escape easier.

“Hold on,” Fluffy says, getting up. “Don’t do anything rash.”

“Rash?” I shout, spinning to face him. “I’m going to be killed and you’re telling me not to do anything rash?”

“All I’m saying is we need to think things through.”

I shake my head and resume my pacing. “We don’t know when this trial is happening, we don’t have time to think things through.”

He growls in frustration, raking a hand through his wet hair. “IF you escape, they’ll hunt you down and kill you.”

“And?” I snap, spinning to face him. “If I don’t escape, they’ll kill me anyways. At least I have a chance of surviving if I run.”

“Where would you go? The wolves are everywhere.”

I cross my arms over my chest and bring a hand up to my mouth, chewing on my nails as I think. “The Wasteland,” I finally say, the idea forming in my head. Memories of elders telling us stories about The Wasteland as children swirl in my mind. It could work.

“That’s as much of a death sentence as staying here,” Fluffy says incredulously. “No one survives The Wasteland.”

“There are stories of people who live deep in The Wasteland. I could do it.” Excitement fills me at the thought. Not only would The Wasteland save me from the wolves, but it would save me from whatever miserable existence I could have lived here or in my tribe. I never fit in with the Leonae and certainly not the wolves—what do I have to lose?

“Those are just stories, Jack.” Fluffy grows more frustrated with every word.

I meet his eyes, a grin spreading across my face. “Maybe. I can find out.”

“What about me? What will I do if you run?”

“What do you mean? What about you?” I sneer. He’s seriously concerned about himself right now? He’s not the one that’s going to be executed. “You’ll go back to your cushy werewolf life like I never existed.”

“I can’t do that,” he hisses, stepping closer to me. “If you leave, I’ll lose my position in the pack, and when they can’t find you, they’ll kill me.”

I scrunch up my face in disbelief. “How does me staying change any of that?”

“If they grant us a grace period, my position will be frozen until the period is over and their final decision is made. That will save both our lives.”

“You think they’ll grant us a grace period,” I scoff, shaking my head. “Why would they do that?”

Fluffy sighs and shifts his weight on his feet, apprehension crossing his features. “If they believe we could be mates, they’ll grant us a grace period to complete the bonding ceremony. Once the ceremony is completed successfully, we’re free.”

“I’m still not convinced we’re mates.” I cross my arms tightly over my chest.

“Then pretend. It’s our best chance of survival.”

I study him skeptically, unsure if I should trust him or trust my instincts to flee.

“The pack is heavily guarded anyway,” he adds, noticing my skepticism. “They expect you to make a run for it.”

I press my lips into a tight line. “Fine. But if they sentence me to death, it’s your fault.” I turn away from him and busy myself with making the bed, needing something to do to keep my nerves under control. I’m still not convinced the wolves will give me any sort of grace, but Fluffy seemed so sure that they would grant us a grace period, I couldn’t help but trust him. He better be right.

“What is the bonding ceremony?” I ask quietly. I glance at him. He looks as if he were dreading the question.

“It’s the first part of completing the bond. It’s usually done on a full moon for good luck.” He pauses, giving me a nervous look.

“Well?” I prompt. “What do we do?”

He takes in a slow breath, averting his eyes to the window. “We mark each other.”

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. “What does that mean?”

“We bite each other." He avoids looking at me, like he’s afraid of my reaction.

“Woah, hold on, bite each other?” I ask incredulously. “Just a nibble or like, vampire style, pierce an artery kind of bite?”

He shakes his head, a small smile appearing on his face as he tries not to laugh at my question. “No piercing arteries, we’re not vampires. Just enough to draw a little blood. It will prove we’re truly mates.”

“How?” I ask slowly, not sure if I want to know the answer.

“Marking someone who isn’t your mate is forbidden; mother moon punishes those who try to change her decision. If a wolf marks someone who isn’t their mate, they both die.”

I lift my eyebrows in shock. Death? If he marks me and he’s not my mate, we’ll die? I don’t know what scares me more: him marking me and dying, or him marking me and living. “That’s intense,” I mutter.

“But the full moon isn’t for another three weeks, so if they grant us a grace period, we have time.” He sounds hopeful, but I just feel sick.

Three weeks? That’s hardly enough time to get to know someone, much less decide you want to spend your whole life with them. Maybe death wouldn’t be so bad after all.