Slain

And I don’t want you and I don’t need you

Don’t bother to resist, or I’ll beat you

It’s not your fault that you’re always wrong

The weak ones are there to justify the strong

-The Beautiful People, Marilyn Manson

I blink at Fluffy blankly for a few seconds before sputtering into laughter. “You’re dumber than you look if you think I’m going to fall for that.”

He sighs, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I’m serious.”

“Uh-huh, yeah okay, and I’m a centaur,” I snort. My laughter dies away and I move towards the window on my right. “Tell me the truth or I’m outta here.” I grip the edge of the thick curtain in my hand, preparing to make a repeat of yesterday’s performance.

“Remember when I said don’t do anything rash or stupid? This is both,” he says flatly. I jerk on the curtain, pulling it away from the window as a warning. He throws his hands out. “Don’t!”

“Then tell me the truth,” I demand, watching him expectantly.

“I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Do you want me to jump out this window?” I shake the curtain in my hand for emphasis.

He shuffles closer to me. “No!”

“Then get talkin’. There’s no possible way that I, a slayer, could be mated to a werewolf. Slayers don’t have mates and wolves only mate with wolves; this is the stupidest plan you guys could have come up with!” I’m actually offended that they thought I would fall for this.

Fluffy huffs in frustration, dragging a hand through his dark hair. “Exactly! Why would we try to trick you with something so unreasonable? It doesn’t make sense, so please, step away from the window and let me explain.”

I weigh my options: I can jump from this window and try to make a break for it like I did yesterday, or I can listen to what he has to say and find a better escape plan with a higher chance of success. That is, if they don’t kill me first. I sigh loudly, dropping the curtain. “Fine.” I cross my arms over my chest, shifting my weight to one foot while I wait for him to begin explaining.

“I don’t know how it’s possible, but my wolf has claimed you as my mate, that’s why the wolves didn’t attack me when I saved you. Mate’s are precious to us and saving the life of our mate is an exception to nearly any pack law,” Fluffy explains slowly.

I frown, trying to find flaws in his explanation. “You said your wolf claimed me?” He nods. “I thought wolves’ mates were predestined? How can he claim me if your mate is decided before you’re born?” I feel proud of myself for that, waiting smugly for him to fumble for an answer.

To my dismay, he answers immediately, as if he was waiting for the question. “That’s right, we have no choice in our mate, but our inner wolf will identify his, or her, mate by “claiming” them upon their first encounter. It really just means that you’re all my wolf can focus on now.”

“Why did it take so long for you to do anything about it?” Again, I feel as if I’ve caught him, but he knocks my confidence right out of the air with his response.

“Because I didn’t believe it - I didn’t think it was possible. My wolf took over and that’s why everything happened the way it did today.” For some reason, I feel a bit of hurt at his words.

My eyes narrow, covering the strange emotions I suddenly feel with a suspicious glare. “So, if your wolf hadn’t taken over, you would have let him kill me?”

“No, I definitely wouldn’t have let him kill you, but I wouldn’t have flipped out like I did either. Besides, he wasn’t going to kill you. I had told him that my wolf claimed you, so he thought if you were truly my mate, I wouldn’t be able to keep my wolf from protecting you. It seems that he was right.”

“So that was all a test?” I’m becoming less skeptical and more confused the more he explains. Of course, I don’t believe him, but I don’t exactly think he’s lying to me, either. I wrack my brain for any possible explanation; maybe he’s not all there and suddenly jumped off the deep end the same time I was about to be executed.

That’s the best I got, so I’m going with it.

“Kind of,” he responds, seeming unsure of how I will take his answer.

I take a slow breath, preparing to gently explain to this psycho that he’s nuts and needs to be checked for rabies, when he suddenly jerks back as if he were just told something that took him off guard. His eyes, which had briefly become glassy and distant, focus back on me. “Do you want some new clothes?” he asks, confusing me even more. He must really be missin’ a few screws up there; that is such a random question.

“Why?” I question suspiciously.

“Because you’re my mate, we have to meet with the Alpha and the elders to decide whether you will be accepted into the pack and what position you will hold. You won’t want to wear those bloody clothes. We can go get you fitted for new clothes tonight.” I had completely forgotten about my injury on my shoulder and the fact that my clothes are soaked in blood. My eyes drop down to my shoulder to inspect the wound.

Pulling open the torn fabric, the angry red slashes from my fight with the witch appear. Only one gash had been stitched, resulting in that wound to have already healed. The other three gashes, though much better off than when I left my village, are still very much ragged and inflamed.

“What happened to your shoulder?” Fluffy questions, his eyes fixed on the wounds as he slowly approaches me. I eye him uneasily as he comes to a stop before me, placing his hands around my shoulder gently. He freezes when I flinch away from his touch, glancing up at my bewildered expression before turning his attention back to my shoulder. “Why weren’t the other three stitched? They should have been.”

“Uh...I ran into some problems,” I mutter, watching his concerned expression in confusion.

“How’d it happen?” He asks, turning back to look at me as he drops his hands from my shoulder.

I take a step back, putting some distance between us before answering. “I fought a witch.”

He looks like he wants to ask more, but stops himself. There’s a pause before he says, “Come on, let’s go get that looked at.”

He moves towards the door while I remain motionless, watching him in utter confusion and disbelief. This can’t be actually happening to me.

When he reaches the door, he turns to me expectantly. “Come on,” he urges. I decide to follow, having no other option. He leads me through the rather barren stone hallways and up a flight of stone stairs. The next floor looks identical to the last and I briefly wonder how he doesn’t get lost in this maze of stone. He comes to a halt outside a seemingly random wooden door in the hallway, knocking once before pushing it open.

A strong sterile scent wafts from the room, stinging my nose as Fluffy takes a step inside. I follow suit, taking in the bright room. On the wall to my right is a wood table where patients lay to be examined, on my left are a series of cabinets and shelves which hold herbs and utensils. On the back wall is a desk with a man now standing beside it wearing a loose, light plain shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and loose brown pants, similar to Fluffy’s, tucked sloppily in his boots.

“Ajax,” he says, giving Fluffy a slight nod. His eyes never stray toward me, which I find odd. “What can I do for you?”

“Would you take a look at her shoulder?” he asks, gesturing to me with his head.

The other wolf takes this opportunity to finally look my direction, but he doesn’t meet my eyes. “Of course, come in, please.” We step into the cramped space, Fluffy closing the door behind us. “Will you come sit on the table?”

I do as he asks, walking to the long wooden table and jumping up to perch on the edge. The wolf steps up in front of me, towering over my small frame even though I’m taller sitting on the table than I would be standing. Fluffy settles on my left side with his arms crossed over his chest, easily in reach.

“My name is Miron,” the wolf introduces himself to me, still avoiding eye contact.

“I’m Jack...” I reply slowly. The longer I’m with these wolves, the more confused and weirded out I become.

Miron nods in acknowledgment. “May I see the shoulder?”

“Yeah,” I say at the same time Fluffy says yes. I swing my head to look at Fluffy in bewilderment. “Excuse you?”

He raises his eyebrows at me slightly, seeming oblivious to the problem. “What?”

Miron tentatively pushes some of the torn fabric on my shoulder away from the wound so he can begin inspecting it. I ignore him and turn my body to better face Fluffy. “Who says you get a say in who can see my shoulder and who can’t?” I realize I’m probably arguing a lost cause, but I’m offended that he seems to think he has any say when it comes to me.

“I already told you, you’re my mate,” he explains calmly.

His response only makes me angrier. “So that automatically means you get a say in anything that remotely pertains to me?”

Instead of answering, he tilts his head to the side questioningly. “Don’t they teach slayers about werewolves?”

“Don’t answer my question with a question,” I snap.

He sighs, leaning his hip against the table. “Remember when I told you that mates are precious to us?” I begrudgingly nod. “For another male to touch someone’s mate is extremely disrespectful. He was making sure I wouldn’t attack him for touching you.”

I squint my eyes, drawing my eyebrows together in a that-is-the-most-ridiculous-thing-I’ve-ever-heard expression. “But you brought me here so he could look at my shoulder. You knew he would have to touch me anyways.”

“Yes, but he still has to ask. It’s a courtesy.”

“Werewolves are weird,” I mutter. Miron, who had been gently cleaning out the wounds and taking out the old stitches, crosses the room to the cabinets and pulls out a needle and stitching thread.

“Would you like an anesthetic?”

I say no the same time Fluffy says yes, causing me to throw him another glare. Miron begins preparing an anesthetic for me, but I stop him. “Seriously, I don’t want an anesthetic.” He glances over at Fluffy for an answer, making me angry once again. “It’s not his decision.”

“What do you have against anesthetics?” Fluffy asks in exasperation.

“Nothing, I just don’t need it. I’ve been stitched up plenty of times without it.”

He looks like he wants to argue, but stops himself, taking a slow breath before nodding. “Fine. No anesthetic.”

Miron sterilizes the needle after threading it, then grabs my shoulder. “I’m going to begin.”

“Go for it,” I say, locking eyes with Fluffy as Miron begins to stitch the deep scratches closed. I hold his gaze unflinchingly, just to prove I was right.

Miron finishes in minutes and steps back from me, grabbing a clean cloth and wiping my new stitches with alcohol. “Shouldn’t these have already healed?” He asks quietly.

I give Fluffy one last smug glare before turning my attention to Miron. “They were from a witch. I’m assuming there was some sort of spell or poison that has slowed my healing.” Miron nods, distancing himself from me now that he’s finished with my shoulder. “Why won’t you look me in the eyes?” I finally ask what I’ve been wondering this whole time.

“You’re a higher rank than me,” he says as if that explains everything.

I raise my eyebrows in a mixture of surprise and confusion. “What do you mean?”

Fluffy, A.K.A. Mr. Know it all bossypants, takes it upon himself to answer. “You’re my mate-”

I cut him off, irritated with him among many other things. “Stop using that as an answer! I don’t know what that means!”

“You didn’t let me finish.”

“I don’t want to hear that word anymore. If I do, I might kill someone.” I say this calmly and slowly in hopes that I won’t have to beat it into his head.

He lets out an irritated huff. “Fine. But because of that, your rank in the pack is equal to mine, making you higher than Miron.”

“How can I be ranked in the pack if I’m neither a member nor werewolf?”

He stares at me silently, waiting for me to catch on.

Finally realizing what he wants to say, I groan. “That’s so stupid, why does that affect everything around here?”

Fluffy shrugs nonchalantly. “That’s the way it’s always been. They don’t teach you any of this?”

I sigh in exasperation. “I don’t know, I’m a girl.”

“So? You’re still a slayer.”

“No one in my village knows that and even if they did, they wouldn’t allow me to train or learn with the other slayers. It’s not my place.”

Fluffy draws his eyebrows in as he frowns. “Girls don’t go to school?”

I shake my head. “Nope. We’re meant to do all the housework and such. You don’t need to be educated to do that.”

“Who teaches?”

“Men,” I answer as if it’s obvious. “Isn’t it like that here?”

Fluffy shakes his head no. “Women are schooled and teach. Women are behind most of our strategizing. We think that it’s better for the women to be educated than the men. Men simply do all the labor and protecting; that doesn’t require much education.”

“Hm,” I hum thoughtfully. “Seems like you guys have something right here.”

Fluffy looks as if he wants to make a comment on that, but stops himself. Instead, saying, “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up and fitted.”

I quickly thank Miron as I jump down from the examination table, following Fluffy out of the room. He leads me through several more identical stone hallways before stopping at another wooden door that looks exactly like all the others. This door is cracked open though, letting out a little light. Fluffy doesn’t even knock, he simply pulls the cracked door open and walks in. I follow behind him, trying to see around his broad shoulders. From what I can see, the room is much larger than the last one, with colorful rugs and curtains that make the stone room seem a little warmer. On the far wall, three floor to ceiling windows stand displaying a view similar to the view I saw when speaking to Scruffy. Tables of various shapes and sizes litter the room, all scattered with different fabrics and tools.

Fluffy walks deeper into the seemingly empty room. As I follow, I notice another door to the far left along with a changing area. The door opens and a tall lanky man enters the room followed by a smaller woman.

“Ah, Ajax! You’ve brought your mate for her fitting?” the man asks, keeping his eyes on Fluffy just like the doctor.

I roll my eyes, crossing my arms across my chest to convey my annoyance and disapproval at the term “mate”. Fluffy ignores me. “Yes.”

“Alright, my mate Elira will help her clean up and then we will begin the fitting.”

Fluffy nods, placing a hand on my back and gently pushing me towards the woman. I glare up at him, jerking away from his touch. He simply rolls his eyes at my behavior as the woman loops her arm through mine and guides me through the door she and the other wolf just exited.

The room we enter is smaller than the other, with rectangular windows that run the length of the room horizontally near the ceiling to let in natural light. In the center of the stone floor is an in-ground stone bathtub nearly the size of the room. A large torch is mounted in every corner of the room for better lighting, while many small candles surround the tub. Steam rises from the water, making the room feel humid and warm; it swirls around the flames of the candles before drifting up towards the ceiling where I realize the windows have no glass. The woman pulls me towards the stone bench that is against the left wall. She begins to tug at my clothes, trying to help me take them off.

As uncomfortable as I feel, I really want to get clean. I quickly undress and the woman leads me to the edge of the tub where a few stone steps hide beneath the surface of the water. I carefully wade into the warm water, surprised at its warmth. The water comes up to my chest once I step off of the steps. I turn to look at the woman as I sink into the water so that it reaches my neck.

“How do you get the water so warm?” I question. Back home, we have no way of heating such large amounts of water; we always bathe in cold water.

The woman moves to the back side of the tub where various soaps lay waiting to be used. “Come.” I move towards her, waiting for her answer. “The room below us is a furnace that heats the stone so the water stays warm. When the water gets low, we fill it back up with that faucet.”

I turn to look at what she’s pointing at, noticing a spout-like thing with a handle. “How does the water come from that?” She begins pouring water over my head, startling me and causing me to inhale some of it.

“We have a water system. We have running water all throughout the pack house.” She begins scrubbing my hair with soap while I ponder over what she’s said. Running water…

“So you don’t have to get your water from wells or streams?”

She dumps more water on my head, rinsing out the soap as she replies, “No, it comes to us.”

She begins washing my neck with a bar of soap, now finished with my hair. “Uh...I can wash myself. Thank you though,” I say, taking the bar of soap from her. I really don’t feel comfortable letting another woman wash me.

“Alright dear, I’ll get your towel and robe ready then.” She stands and hurry's off to a corner of the room where another door stands, quickly exiting and leaving me alone. As I scrub my body clean, wanting to finish before the woman returns, I notice the light, floral fragrance of the soap. That's also new to me. In my village, if you want fragrance, you basically have to pay an arm and a leg for scented oils. Wolves are obviously better off and I decide that, if I have to be imprisoned by a psycho, then at least it's in a nice place.

I’m rinsing my body a second time when the woman scuttles back in with a thick white towel, dark green robe and matching slippers in her hands. “Finished?”

I nod and wade towards the stone steps. The woman meets me on the other side, holding my towel open for me. Once I’m out of the water, she hands me the edges so I can wrap it around myself. I towel myself off before she helps me slip into the robe, also handing me undergarments that had been wrapped in the robe. After stepping into the slippers and tying the robe tight around my body, the woman begins combing out my tangled hair. I’m so confused by the treatment they’ve shown me today. I’m treated more like a special guest than an enemy prisoner.

Once finished combing and drying my hair, the woman leads me back into the large room we had come from. Fluffy and the other wolf stand with their backs to us at a table near the center of the room. When we enter, Fluffy turns to face us.

“Feel better?” he asks.

I nod. “Much.”

“Come pick a fabric for your clothes,” Fluffy says, gesturing for me to come to him.

I slowly walk towards him, not wanting him to think he has authority over me, even though I’m doing what he says right this second.

Once I’m within his reach, he loops his arm around my waist, tugging me closer to him possessively. Of course, I’m not okay with all the touching and quickly shove him away from me, stepping a good distance away. He’s completely facing me in less than a second, looking like he’s about to spaz out, but Elira steps up to my side, her head down and a hand up.

“Let me speak with her, beta,” she says gently.

Fluffy takes a slow breath in before nodding once. Elira grabs ahold of my arm and turns me so that my back is to Fluffy. “It’s hard for him to allow you to wear such little clothing around another male, much less while you are unmated. It’s not his fault for his behavior, but his wolf. Be patient and try to understand from his point of view.” I open my mouth to argue, but she seems to know exactly what I’m going to say. “You don’t have to give into his every wish, but try not to be so difficult. Compromise.”

I mull over her words for a few seconds before nodding tiredly. Why are wolves so touchy?

Elira releases my arm and I turn back to face Fluffy only to see that he hasn’t moved a muscle. He stands rigidly, watching Elira’s every move while also keeping his attention on me. Now that I think about it, he had tensed a bit when he turned and saw me.

I walk to stand next to him. He begins to reach out to me, but Elira’s voice stops him. “Beta, be patient. She is safe.”

He drops his hand back to his side, nodding stiffly. I watch him curiously. Wolves are so strange. I’ve never seen anyone act so possessive over another person before. I would chalk it up to the fact that I’m their prisoner and they’re concerned about me escaping or something, but that can only explain so much.

“Jack, come pick a fabric,” Elira says. I step a little closer to the table in front of me, finally focusing on the six white rectangles of fabrics lain out.

“Uh...I don’t know anything about fabric…” I mutter uneasily as my eyes sweep over the cloths. They all appear the same except for minor texture differences.

“Well,” Elira says, reaching for one of the white fabrics in the middle. “This one is silk. I would suggest it for something as important as your placement dinner. It’s a very nice fabric.”

I shrug. “Okay then. That’s fine with me.” As far as I know, in my village we only had two types of fabric: shirt material and pant material.

“Do you have a color preference?” Elira asks, tucking the fabric under her arm and moving to another table close by. I follow her, noticing that Fluffy moves with me. His acute attention to me is rather annoying, though a piece of me finds it slightly comforting. I’ve decided to call that part of me the “stockholm syndrome Jack”, or SSJ for short. SSJ only makes me more irritated, which means that being patient with Fluffy is going to be even more difficult for “in charge Jack”.

I try to ignore Fluffy as he inches closer to me while I stare at the different colored fabric examples. “Um, I don’t know...I like the color of this robe.”

“Okay, we can make it that color,” Elira nods. She grabs the matching fabric swatch and hurries to the only semi-clean table in the whole room, placing the fabrics on the table and taking up a measuring tape. “Come behind the divider, please.”

I follow her, relieved when Fluffy stays on the other side. I wouldn’t have been very nice if he followed me back here.

Elira begins measuring my limbs and waist, finishing within minutes. “Alright, that’s finished. Now, let me get you a change of clothes. I assume you would like something similar to what you came in with?” I nod, surprised that I won’t have to fight for a pair of pants.

Elira hurries around the divider, coming back rather quickly with a set of folded clothes in hand. “I’ll be just on the other side if you need me.” I nod, thanking her softly. Once she’s gone, I unfold the clothes she handed me, feeling the fabric between my fingers. It’s soft but sturdy.

Untying the robe, I slip it off and pull on the dark, form fitting pants and loose white shirt, satisfied with the fit. It’s obvious that they aren’t my size, but they seem to have been made for a female rather than a male, which is what I usually have to wear.

I slip into my boots that had been waiting for me against the wall before walking out from behind the divider.

“You’re finished,” Elira says with a smile, the other wolf nodding in agreement.

“Thank you Nevan,” Fluffy says, addressing the male. I frown up at him, confused and offended. Elira did all the work; Nevan didn’t do anything!

Elira gives me a smile as if she can tell what I’m thinking, which is the only thing that keeps me from saying something about it. Fluffy puts his hand on my back and prompts me turn to leave. I fight my instinct to pull away from him, remembering what Elira said to me. See, I can compromise.