Mark of the Wolf Page 2

  She had half-expected someone to be at the back door, but she was still caught off-guard when a man came charging out of the darkness, tackling her to the ground. She fell with a scream, rolling across musty leaves and sharp rocks, slamming her fists against the man who held her. She must have hit a weak point, because he grunted and his hold loosened. Without hesitating, she kneed him in the balls and pushed his convulsing body off of her, jumping to her feet and dashing through the trees. She took the trail she always followed, the ground slanting upward and leading her into the mountain, assuring her of which direction she was headed. She dodged trees and broken branches, leaping over ditches that her feet remembered. For once she was thankful for all those nights spent hiding in the woods; at least now she could navigate confidently.

  There were curses and shouts from behind her, and a gun shot, though she didn’t know where the bullet went. She knew it was too dark to see her, but the men tried to follow anyway, pointing hazy flashlights into the trees and stumbling along clumsily. The air dragged in her lungs – her adrenaline was so strong that she couldn’t breathe properly. There was already a stitch in her side, and she had only been running for a minute.

  Then suddenly someone grabbed her. She let out a scream, kicking and fighting, but the man threw her against a tree, pressing her down and cussing. How had he caught up with her? Or had he been hiding in the woods already? Maybe these jerks were better organized than she thought.

  Suddenly something solid and metal smashed against the side of her head, making her see stars. She whimpered in shock and pain and almost fell, but the man’s rough hands held her upright, and the blow came again, this time sending her spiraling in and out of consciousness. She gasped, pain exploding in her head. Her eyes watered and her body trembled.

  “Dumb bitch,” the man spat. “Fucking little cunt… shut the fuck up and stand still.” She wanted to fight, she wanted to get away, but she couldn’t make her body obey her commands. Her head was pounding. She felt a trickle of blood down her cheek, and her fear bit so deep that she had to hold back tears. She was going to die. She was going to die and this was how it would end – alone in the darkness, beaten to death, just as she had always feared.

  The other men were approaching now. She could hear their laughs and vulgar jokes. Then abruptly she felt something else – a hand over her shirt, grouping through her sweatshirt and over the mounds of her breasts, down her flat stomach and to her thighs.

  “She's a tight little cunt,” the man said to those behind him.

  “That’s what the boss said,” another one joined in, his voice familiar – she guessed it was the one who had first tried to kick down her door. “Eighteen.”

  More laughter. “I want to taste it.”

  Maddy faded in and out of her surroundings. The conversation was confusing and terrifying at the same time; she couldn’t make herself focus. Her head was bursting at the seams, splitting down the middle, hurting worse than any time her father had beat her. At least he had used his hands – this man had hit her with the blunt of a gun.

  She heard fabric ripping. It was a moment before she realized it was her shirt. They were taking off her clothes, their hands rough, uncaring and bruising.

  It was too much. She screamed.

  The men cussed and grabbed her harder, but suddenly there was a sound in the forest. At first she thought it was her imagination – a low growl issued through the trees, deep and feral and utterly terrifying. The men stopped and stood still. Maddy let out a slow breath. Her body slowly sunk back to the ground, released by their hard hands.

  “What the fuck-”

  “Shut up!” the leader hissed, the one who had hit her. He turned and took a step away. “Fucking wolf or something….”

  A wild animal? Maddy couldn’t be sure and at the moment she didn’t care; she was about to pass out any second, and all she could do was focus on the ground, tell herself that it was okay to go to sleep, okay to never wake up.

  The growl continued, rising in volume, until the men had moved a few feet away from her, instinctively huddling together. Then the growl turned into a roar. There was a scream, a gun was fired, but she couldn’t tell what was happening – it was too dark. Scuffling, growling, a terrible ripping sound that was far juicier than just torn clothes. She didn’t want to imagine what was happening, and in her heart she knew that she would be next. No, not killed by a beating – eaten alive by wild animals. Great.

  The gun shots continued until there was one final, blood-curdling scream, then the loose sound of a body falling limply to the earth. She ducked her head down, swooning, nauseas and trying not to vomit. She fought to stay conscious. She was not going to be found in the morning chewed up and in a pile of her own puke.

  When a hand touched her shoulder, she almost screamed.

  “Fuck,” she heard, though it was just a soft sound, barely a whisper. The voice was familiar, though she hated to hope; she was sure she was hallucinating. She would have said something, except that her head hurt so bad she could barely remember her name. The hand traveled from her shoulder to her face, cupping along the side of it and pushing her hair out of the way. Another soft curse. Then arms were sliding around her shoulders and under her knees, and she was being lifted up – suddenly she was eleven years old again, terrified of the dark and even more terrified of going home. She turned instinctively and buried her face against a warm, muscular shoulder. No shirt.

  She tried to wonder at that, but couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. Her brain was shutting down. She let out a soft breath and went limp in his arms.

  Everything went dark.

  Chapter 2

  Upon returning to consciousness, her first inane thought was about whether or not she had finished her homework.

  Wait, had she even gone home last night? She couldn’t remember….

  With a soft sigh, she turned her head against the pillow and took a deep breath, rubbing her nose against the fabric. It smelled good, but… different. She breathed again, enjoying the spicy odor of cologne and something more tangible, something definitely masculine.

  Then she stretched, and her heart slammed against her chest – she was in a bed. Not on the couch. What the hell?

  It all came back to her with a jarring burst of pain. Her temples throbbed. She groaned, bringing her hand to her head; every time she tried to move, her brain let out a pulsing stab. Her hand hovered above the wound before dropping back to her side – best not to touch it. Then she frowned. If she wasn’t dead, and she wasn’t in the woods, where the fuck was she?

  She opened her eyes and squinted against the light. It took her a moment before she could fully focus, then she looked around, seeing a small window with heavy, ugly brown drapes pulled across. It might have been afternoon, because the muffled light still bothered her eyes. The walls had the slightly yellow tint of old paint. A worn-down dresser stood across from her on the opposite wall. Other than that, the bedroom was bare.

  With a groan, she sat up slowly, careful not to move her head too much. Sitting upright was more difficult than she had anticipated – the room kept wanting to sway to the left, but she forced it to straighten. She twitched her toes. Good, everything in working order.

  Swinging her feet out of bed, she carefully stood up, enjoying the feel of thick, plushy carpet. She looked around again. The room was smaller from this angle, though far bigger than her father’s room, and notably bigger than just about all the rooms in her cabin. She looked down at herself, staring mutely. It took a moment to register that she was naked.

  Her breath caught. She could remember men from the night before; they had ripped her shirt but she had still had pants on. At least, she sort of remembered that. She definitely hadn’t undressed herself, which left a few more questions unanswered.

  She looked around the room again, this time slower, but she definitely didn’t see any closet and her clothes were nowhere to be found. Great. Now what? Couldn’t go and explore the house in thi
s state, but staying put was out of the question. If she had been kidnapped by those creeps, she wasn’t going to wait around for them to check on her. Were they going to hold her for ransom? Dumb. Her father wouldn't give a shit.

  She glanced around the room one last time and made do with the only piece of fabric available. Yanking the sheet off the bed, she wrapped herself up in it firmly and headed for the door. Worse come to worse, she could drop it and run, and a naked woman running down the road was bound to attract some form of help.

  The hallway was just as ugly as the bedroom. Hairy tan carpet and in-need-of-paint walls. She walked slowly and carefully, listening, checking out the doors that she passed. A bathroom on her left. A closet on her right, though she didn’t stop to open it. Then she heard the suspicious sounds of clinking plates and running water. A crackly, static voice reached her ears, but it was the kind one heard from a fuzzy radio; not anyone speaking.

  She crept forward, moving closer towards the sounds until the hallway opened up into a large living room, full of comfortable-looking leather couches and a giant TV. An unused fireplace was against one wall surrounded by rustic brick, and a deceptively gentle painting of a forest hung above it. The noise, however, was coming from a different direction; it was still out of sight,just around the corner, where now she could hear the clear sounds of dishes and the intense odor of bacon. Her mouth watered immediately. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Her stomach let out a low rumble.

  The sink turned off and the radio was now clearly audible. Someone was listening to the news. Remembering the commotion from last night, she wondered if any reports had been sent in that she was missing. She continued forward until she was inches away from the room and angled herself shallowly. Peeked around the corner. She twisted her head to get a better view and abruptly her breath caught. She blushed.

  There was no need to hide anymore. With slight hesitation, she moved into the open, staring into the kitchen with wide eyes.

  He was looking back at her, casually leaning against the sideboard, drying a plate with a towel. The muscles of his arms bulged clearly despite his loose white t-shirt. His position gave her the feeling that he had known she was standing there for a while. He didn't appear surprised by her entrance.

  She swallowed. Hard.

  He continued drying the plate, then set it down and casually started on the next one, continuing to look at her as the radio droned on. She only caught bits of what the voice was saying – “…five bodies found in the woods… animal attack… nearby cabin abandoned, currently searching for Maddy Baker, a student at our own Black River High… her body not found among the others, though a search is being done of the mountains….”

  She licked her lips, her stomach squirming with nervousness. It had been almost three years since their last encounter in the woods, when she had been fifteen, attempting to run away again though she had nowhere to go. He hadn’t said anything to her then, as he had rarely spoken on their meetings – just taken her hand, as he always did, and led her back down the mountain. She wondered if he knew the situation she was in. She wondered if he even cared.

  Since it was obvious he was not going to speak, she decided to finally break the awkward silence. “Uh… thank you,” she said quietly, feeling it was appropriate. He had saved her life after all… right? Or had it been that wolf? There had been an animal of some kind… she couldn’t really remember very well, her head hurt whenever she tried to think back that far. She had been so woozy and incoherent that it was hard to remember anything after the gun. Maybe he had killed the wolf? Or maybe he had just found her, and the animal had left her alone, miraculously.

  A hint of a smile formed on his mouth, just the curve of the corner of his lips, then he turned away towards the stove to where a fat slab of bacon was cooking. Her stomach squirmed again; she was so nervous, she felt like it was her first day of school. This was the first time she had gotten a real good look at him up close and in full daylight, and she studied his back, his broad shoulders that tapered down into a narrow waist, obviously muscular through his shirt. He had long legs. She thought he was at least six feet tall, far more than her modest 5’4”. He wore dark blue jeans and black work boots underneath them, and there were stains on his shirt that looked something like car grease. She wondered if he worked at a garage, which would make sense why she had never seen him around, since she didn’t own a car.

  His hair was long and black, pulled back into a short ponytail at the back of his head. She knew because she had seen him enough in the hardware store that he usually wore it this way during the day, but all the times she had seen him at night, his hair had been loose and wild, flowing in slight waves.

  He had two plates out. His back was still turned, but he was putting food on both of them. She watched his arms work – definitely muscular, a healthy tan, with two tattoos peeking out of his sleeves on both sides. She couldn’t tell what they were at this angle.

  He finished with the stove and turned it off, depositing an empty pan in the sink, then set a plate on the opposite side of the counter where a few bar stools were set up.

  “Eat,” he said, then took a fork and started in on his own plate. After a moment he glanced at her, his green eyes even more intense in the sunlight. He raised one dark, elegantly slanted brow.

  Maddy felt like her legs might give out. She stumbled forward, telling herself not to be stupid and trip or burp or do anything else embarrassing, and swept over to the stool across from him. It was only then that she remembered her choice in clothing. Her cheeks heated, but she didn’t know what else to do, so she swept the blanket around her, sat down on the chair, picked up her fork, and took a taste of the bacon. It melted in her mouth. After a short pause, she started scarfing it down.

  She wasn’t sure if he actually watched her eat or not, because she didn’t catch him looking at her after that until they had both finished, then he wordlessly took her plate and set it in the sink. Turned the water on. She watched, tense, waiting for him to do something, or to say something that would explain why she was in his house wrapped in his bedsheets.

  He took out a sponge. Started washing.

  Well, at least he’s clean, she thought, and took the time to admire his biceps some more, since he was definitely an amazing specimen of a man. Because of his position at the sink, they were able to face each other as he washed dishes, and she studied his face – it was all angles and dramatic planes, with high curving cheekbones and a straight nose. His lips were firm and sensual, with a strong chin and sharp jawline barely covered by the ghost of stubble. His lashes were long and dark. She felt her stomach squirm again and tried not to stare, though now her gaze moved to his masculine neck and broad shoulders. Wow, she had to get a hold of herself. Maybe he was a childhood crush, but he was an adult, and she was young in comparison. Probably he still saw her as the little eleven-year-old of seven years ago.

  Finally he finished with the dishes and reached over to turn off the radio. He looked at her then, leaning forward against the sideboard, his eyes intense.

  “So what do you remember from last night?” he finally asked, his voice deep and rough.

  It sent shivers down her spine. She had to force her brain to think. It seemed like an odd question to ask. “There were men,” she finally said. “Four of them, I think. They came to my house, and I tried to run… didn’t get very far though,” she said with a half-smile, attempting some humor. He didn’t respond. “Uhm… they were eaten? Or something? They uh… they hit me I guess… I don’t really remember much after that.”

  He nodded, not commenting. She bit her lip again. Great, why couldn’t she say something smart or impressive? He just kept staring at her like that, and she couldn’t think with those jade-green eyes focused on her so intently.

  “Alright,” he finally said. But he kept looking at her, silently, as though he expected her to say something else.

  She shifted a little and was once against reminded of her almost-naked st
ate. She couldn’t get the smell of him out of her head; it was all over the blanket and now, looking at him face to face, it was making it even harder to think. “Um, I think I should get dressed,” she mumbled.

  “Your clothes are drying,” he said. “But I’ll loan you something….” His eyes briefly flickered over her, and a hint of humor crept into them. “My clothes might be a bit big though.”

  She smiled shyly. Wow, awkward.

  He motioned for her to follow him and walked from the kitchen into the hallway. He opened one of the many doors she hadn’t inspected and stepped into a narrow laundry room where the dryer was running. A pile of clean clothes were sitting in a basket, and he selected a pair of gray sweatpants and a floppy sweater. He handed them to her.

  “I believe you know where the bathroom is,” he said, with another hint of smile. She couldn’t explain how, but he seemed completely aware of her actions since waking. With another awkward smile, she headed towards the bathroom she had seen earlier, and felt his eyes follow her, a pressure on her back.

  She walked a little quicker, relieved when she finally closed the bathroom door and put her back against it. She didn’t know how she was going to survive in this house much longer – it was more nerve wracking than even her own home.

  * * * *

  He could smell her. It was driving him insane.

  She was still young, but he really couldn't complain about that. He had known for a while now that this was the one he had been waiting for. His female. His lifemate.

  He had waited for her to grow up, because what else could he do? And he hadn’t let himself get too close, because that might scare her away, or alert the paranoid human population to his presence. He might have been labeled as a stalker or some equally perverted man. The truth was the opposite, however – wolves like him mated for life, and once one found their lifemate, well... it was done. Permanent. No other would satisfy.