I woke up, my eyes fluttering as they focus on the brightness surrounding me.
All I can see is a single blob hovering above me, a blur of colours flipping and weaving, twisting and turning.
"Are you awake?" a beautiful, musical voice rips through the void I am suspended in, bringing me to the present with a thud. Everything suddenly shifts into focus, the blurred edges sharpening into easily distinguished images.
Am I dreaming?
A spectacularly handsome man stares at me, his startling green eyes disconcerting me with their brightness. I feel myself get lost in them, examining their wondrous beauty, trapped in their spectacular gaze.
His skin is tan and muscled, his arms bulging, his hands strong and firm. Wearing a t-shirt and cargo shorts, he is dressed casually, yet he has an elegance that can't be explained.
Straight and long, his hair cuts off around his jawbone, framing his face with pride. Layers are all over the place, short wisps accompanied by long strands, carelessly tousled.
The bangs make me subconsciously want to push them aside so I can gaze evermore into his eyes with no distractions.
The strangest thing about his hair, though, is that it is blue. A royal blue, even, that shines in the sunlight. But the hair suits him, complimenting his lightly tanned skin and emerald eyes.
"Hello?" he asks again, his voice soothing to my ears. I blink once, trying to adjust to the incredible handsomeness before me.
A man this beautiful has never been within five feet of me before.
Finally examining myself, I notice that my leg is not bleeding anymore, covered with a thick bandage. My shoulder is covered likewise.
I am laying on a soft, plushy divan.
The floor is of pure marble, a deep black with hints of white trying to squeeze its way into the tile.
A huge chandelier, crystals dancing generously just below its metal limbs, hangs delicately on a thin, grey wire in the centre of the chamber. There is an impressive array of books, a gigantic bookcase stretching from wall to wall.
But of course, all my attention focuses on the man.
He chuckles as I scan his face yet again, taking in his perfection, looking at masculine features that, at my school, I used to only be able to observe from afar.
Icouldldh once, attempting to croak some words out of my mouth.
"Shh," he whispers, holding his hand over my mouth, "your throat is probably dry. Let me get you some water first." His hand feels so comfortable, and I feel, somehow, saddened when he releases it from my face.
As he travels over to a stainless steel sink, I am unable to find a single emotion conveyed in his saunter. He seems to glide, walking in a way that's almost impossible to describe.
That is only one of the strange things I notice about him.
Another thing that perks my curiosity is his eyes. When I skimmed over it before, I hadn't noticed the reflection of the light upon his pupils.
Now, as I more carefully observe, I realize there is no reflection. The light doesn't bounce off his eye, but rather, sinks into it. It is barely noticeable, even by me, the queen of scrutiny, but I now can see the difference.
The bright, emerald green seems to snatch the light and display it in his irises, his pupils a deep black in comparison. When I look at them, and he returns my gaze, my form is not visible in his pupil.
He brings a cool glass of crystal clear water to my lips, gently pouring it into my mouth. "Can you speak?" he probed.
"Yes," I barely whisper.
"Okay, good," he smiles brightly.
I suddenly find it hard to speak.
"T-thanks for s-saving me," I stutter. He lets loose a musical laugh, the most beautiful one I've ever heard.
"It was a pleasure."
I feel self-conscious; suddenly disconcerted by the way he is scanning my face, my body. I start to feel nervousness when I meet his gaze, even one glance at his beautiful, appraising eyes causing butterflies in my stomach.
The need arises to avoid this strange, alien behaviour towards me, to return to the orphanage and work on that science project I didn't do earlier because I thought I would die today.
I quickly sit up, my back reposed on the fluffy pillows, and then I attempt to swing my legs over the side. Before I succeed in depositing my feet on the floor, though, he catches my legs and deposits them back on the divan, the hint of a smile in the corner of his lips.
I feel a tingle of delight as he touches them, his fingers lingering a little before pulling away.
"Just what do you think you are doing?" he demands, rather laughingly.
"Leaving." I decide to tell him the truth.
"Thanks again for the help."
His eyes widen, "But you can't just leave! We have to find out more about each other! I don't even know your name."
He is so different from any guy I've met. He seems like he wants to know more about me. His gaze tugs at mine, his expression of disappointment. If I didn't know better… I'd say that he likes me, or at least my appearance.
But, the thing is, I know better. Being liked is a privilege reserved for prettier people than me.
I shoot up so quickly my movement is almost a blur, ignoring the pain that my motions are invoking within my injuries.
The joke is over. "Well, sorry. I'm leaving," I say sharply. Why does my rudeness have to flare up at a time like this? I really need to work on my social skills. He did save my life, after all.
I guess his behaviour is scaring me. The way he is earnestly looking at me, with so much devotion, is rather unsettling and strange. It is like nothing I've ever experienced before, and, honestly, I have never been so afraid in my life.
I start walking to the door, my slightly damp red hair waving in the light breeze. Maybe this is all just a dream. Maybe in a matter of minutes, I will wake up to find that the man is only a figment of my imagination.
"Please stop!" I hear his relaxing, hypnotizing voice, but I manage to shake his command from my mind. He can't coerce me into continuing on with this joke any longer.
Obviously, he is just toying with me by pretending to be attracted, to get a good laugh out of his friends later. However, as I continue to walk, there is a blur, and then…
He is standing right in front of me, blocking the door.
How did he do that? He had been standing more than ten feet away from me before.
I become like a sheep that has been backed into a corner.
"What are you? What do you want from me?" I beg, my eyes drilling through his, pleading earnestly.
His eyes flash at my comment, then, strangely, he wears a resigned expression. "Come, sit down while I explain."
He leads me back over to the divan, and I cautiously sit down upon it. I have to admit, no matter how creepy this feels, I am shamefully happy to spend a few more seconds gazing at his enticing face.
However, I try not to show it, instead of displaying a dubious frown.
He takes a deep breath and then speaks. "My name is Alexander, and I am what you would call a werewolf."
Shock and incredulity run through my mind, freezing me to the bone. My memories quickly flashed back to where I just managed to come out, those inhumane animals, their wickedness. Alpha Alex, Kimberly and so many of them made me shiver in fear.
"Why am I this unfortunate?
" from fire to hellfire".
Not wanting him to notice my nervousness, I quickly hide my fears, maintaining a calm expression.
"Oh, what a pity, I think sadly, this guy, the only one that saved me, is a weirdo." I thought.
I can tell he believes his outlandish claims too. His eyes are trying to catch my gaze, a hopeful expression displayed in them.
" you're a Werewolf ," I tell him slowly as if he is a kindergartener. I know he doesn't deserve my disdain, but… really?
"Are you this disrespectful?" he asks, irritated. I can't help but notice how cute he is when he is vexed, and I wonder if I really want to wake up from this dream.
"No, although you might need to go talk to a counsellor or something about some mental problems," I automatically snap, then immediately wish to take back my harsh words.
For me, insults are default, almost encouraged by people's equally disdaining response.
He seems frustrated now, a tiny pout on his plump lips, streaks of his blue hair falling into his eyes.
The strange thing is, he doesn't seem to be angry or even annoyed by me, but by himself. What kind of guy is he? He is proving almost everything that I thought was true about every guy wrong.
"I guess I'll just have to prove it to you," he mutters quietly. His eyes fly shut, his lips pursed in concentration. He seems to be focusing on something, something I can't possibly detect.
"There is no way you can prove to me that-"
I am interrupted by his sudden transfiguration, staring in shock and amazement as the handsome man suddenly melts, his head tumbling into his body.
It is like a waterfall, the way his body just crumbles into itself. However, there is a shimmer of light before he becomes a puddle on the floor, his body-liquid-I-don't-really-know making a shape. Another millisecond and he is that shape.
A colossal wolf with sharp white teeth and dark eyes that matches his pupils.
I jump back in horror. Nothing I have seen about werewolves had prepared me for this.
It barks once, a deep sound that reminds me roughly of his baritone laugh, his shaggy fur a creamy light brown colour that matches his skin.
He, like his human counterpart, is absolutely beautiful. My breath is taken away as I examine him and his huge, graceful form.
What absolutely astonishes me, most of all, is his authoritative aura, demanding respect even from me.
Similar to the previous morphing, he suddenly crumbles, falling towards the ground speedily. There is a flash of light, and he becomes the incredibly hot man he was before.
Scared, I take a step back, not watching where I am going.
Lucian, no matter how beautiful, seems ethereal.
Somehow, my brain refuses to believe that I was caught by another werewolf.
And even though now I am given proof, it still is a lot to take in. It is almost too much for me to accept, no matter how true it is.
My feet slip out from under me as I collide with a hard, firm object. I feel the floor rush to meet me, my arms flying about, trying to catch my balance.
A pair of strong, firm hands reach beneath me, propelling me back into my standing position. They feel warm, releasing shocks through my body. I am definitely aware of his presence.
"Please believe me," he takes his hands away from my back, coldness now flooding to the previously warm spot where his hand had been.
"I… I.." I mumbled softly, disconcerted by his close proximity, yet shivering from the absence of his big, toasty warm hands.
He seems to sense that, leaning in and grabbing my right hand, heat spreading like wildfire throughout my body.
Nervousness takes me over and I yank my slender hand away. His eyes widen in surprise as I shove them in my pockets.
"You don't want me to touch you?" he inquired curiously, "You don't trust me?"
"Yes, I don't want you to touch me. Yes, I don't trust you. Although I have no idea why.
"I don't know you. Why would I?" I carelessly throw at him.
He blinks once, almost from surprise rather than irritation. Bafflement is etched into his features as if he is actually confused at the thought that I don't.
I begin to get angry at myself.
Why do I have to be so bitter?
"Okay, I'll wait then," he grins faintly. Other than his slightly diminished smile, he seems undeterred, though, continuing almost as energetic as before.
"Is this guy for real?
"Well, you might as well give up now then or else you'll be waiting forever," I look away, letting the harsh words leave my lips.
"Don't worry; I am prepared to wait forever. I have all the time in the world," he says softly, his words startling me.
Of course. How can I forget? He isn't even a human.
"I think you forget that I will die in about seventy-five years. I don't have forever," I murmur, my voice picked up by his sensitive ears.
The silence stretches between us as the second's tick by. I feel uncomfortable, trying to look anywhere but him.
He laughs again, a sound that starts to melt my heart. "I think you underestimate me, Vanessa."
Whoa. Wait a second.
"How do you know my name?" I furiously demand. He winks at me in response, waving the little parchment I first wrote my name on when my mother was teaching me how to write before my eyes, which I always carried anywhere I go as a remembrance.
Narrowing my eyes, I hold out my hand towards him. "Give it back."
"Should I?" He teases, sparking my anger. I launch myself at him, and he smiles wickedly. "Oh, well this is getting interesting."
It only takes a few seconds of violently grabbing at thin air before I realize I am not going to get my parchment back by force. He is moving his arms so quickly that it's impossible to even touch him.
Rolling my eyes in resignation, I lean back and fall against the divan.
"Are you ever planning on giving it back?"
"Sure. Someday. I'm rather fond of this name of yours." He looks at it again, and my mind flashes back to the time when that name was written. It was about twenty years ago.
I now realize he truly has been making fun of me.
I say nothing, my eyes returning to him. I subconsciously focus on how the sunlight seems to catch on his azure hair and sparkle, making his whole head look like it is sprinkled with stardust.
He doesn't wait for me to speak. "But anyway… Welcome to my kingdom."
"How come? look at him, astounded at his pompousness and how honest he looks while saying those words.
He flips his hair and flashes me a bright, astounding smile. I am almost blinded by its beauty.
"How could you not?"
"How could I, you arrogant brat?!" I respond bitingly, "I prefer a trait in men that you don't possess—humility."
"And a brain, of course."
"Careful how you insult your master"
"Master?
"Are you surprised," he defends himself, "come on Vanessa, you know that! I'm not like any boy you have met before.
I saved your life, even
putting my life at risk, for you. I know that's a strange statement to make, but I genuinely feel that way.
Every werewolf thinks like this. You can trust me-"
" Wait, did I just hear all?
"What was that you just said?" I ask dangerously, interrupting his rant. I can't believe my ears, my eyes narrowing. He did not just say that…
"You're… my pet for now. You belong to me and only me shall you obey," he says hesitantly, pausing slightly before he continues,
" If it wasn't for the mercy I had on you, I would have killed you in the forest. I'm usually not very kind to trespassers that stumble our way."
After a short span of shocked silence, he grabs my hands and squeezes them. "You're now mine" he whispers, staring deeply into my eyes with an unfathomable intensity.
I laugh at the way he mentions it so lightly. He tells me that I'm his "pet", bound to him for life (or afterlife), and he expects me to just take it in? To immediately obey his request?
I can see the seriousness and fear in his beautiful green eyes, silently pleading with me to understand.
I'm amazed the most at the fact that he expects me to take him seriously. Or maybe he doesn't.
Maybe he just wants the satisfaction of having me fall for his wily tricks. I have to say, he is a marvellous liar.
Anger overwhelms me, my heartbeat rising. Why don't I get a choice on whether to be his pet? Is he so superior that he can't give me the option to be free?
"Uh, well, um…" I inch towards the door, edging to the exit that will free me from this nightmare. My red hair falls into my face, my hands shaking.
Lucian smiles as the voice of his guards called him, causing my stomach to unwillingly flip flop.
"Excuse me while I take this call," he says quickly, retreating from my sight. I hear the pounding of footsteps, then nothing. I sigh in relief.
The coast is clear.
Oh, wonderful guard, you are my saviour.
I run towards the door, flinging it open and rushing out into the considerably lightened rainfall.
The light mist sprinkles on my nose, dancing around my toes as I slosh through the muddy dirt, my bare feet dyed brown. My red hair is loose and wavy, flying as a blast of cold wind forces it far behind me. I carry my flats in my hands, sticking my tongue out carelessly to catch a drop of the water that falls from the sky.
Freedom is at hand.
***
"Hello, my lady" a voice woke me up.
I was lying on the bed, my fluffy stuffed cloth surrounding my heavily buried form. I have many of them, a whole collection from my childhood, which I can't bear to get rid of. Gold tones flood through my small windows, illuminating my face as I sit up into the glaring sunlight. Just beyond the glass lays a beautiful milieu of crisp, green grass, crystal clear lake water, and tall trees. Puffy clouds hang in the blue sky, birds cruising across the horizon.
I wearily drag myself from the covers, my feet causing a thump as they collide with the floor.
"Here is the dresser"
Stumbling over the dresser, I carelessly grab a blue gown with golden designs, sliding it over my body.
This was the first time I wore something nice.
Luckily and by chance, catch a glance of my body in the mirror, and gasp.
A huge, black-and-blue bruise sprawls across my left shoulder, extreme redness surrounding it.
Another one, though not quite so major, decorates my knee, bringing back painfully stark memories from the previous night. It isn't only a dream.
I really did meet a cool and scary man last night who saved me from certain death.
I can still remember his perfect face, his startling green eyes, and his uniqueness I did not understand.
Even thinking of him sends tingles through my body, alertness flooding through me.
How can a brief memory affect me so much?
I shuffle to the door, looking out along the hallway. Rows of doors greet me, stuffiness overtaking my senses.
A repugnant stench makes my nose wrinkle in disgust, but not surprise. It always smells like this. The other kids all got used to it, but I never did.
From the very beginning, my ninth birthday spanning until the present, I have felt like I didn't belong.
Almost… like my parents were not fated to die, that I was meant to be by their side even now. It was just a feeling, in the pit of my stomach, that something was terribly wrong.
The other kids, as I grew up, seemed to understand that also, gladly treating me like I didn't belong. At first, I was a pretty nice kid. I wanted more friends. I wanted to play in their games. I wanted them to treat me just like everyone else.
And, most of all, I wanted desperately to laugh. To smile.
But I soon gave up on that fantasy.
I soon gave in to the other kids' coldness, turning into a hard shell that was sharp, bitter, and tough. I didn't need anybody. I didn't want anybody.
I was above them all.
I would stay in my room for hours and hours, practising with the help of my mother, making myself smarter and even more above the crowd.
Now, to accompany my newfound pompousness, I had the smarts to encourage it.
And these long years, full of awful puberty and other struggles, did nothing to change that.
A mirror hangs precariously on a single nail, right by where I am standing. I examine myself once again, taking in my ratty red hair, matted and tangled, that I usually pull back into a frenzied ponytail.
My nose, crooked as always, juts out slightly, an annoying feature I absolutely hate. My slightly curvy body hides under some of the only clothes I own, a baggy loose gown which I always wear, letting no one know I even have a figure. Even if I wear skin-tight clothing, nothing changes the fact. My lips and complexion? Were really special.
My eyes are the only things I like about myself at all, and even they are not spectacular compared to that god-like man I saw last night. I am the least desirable girl among my mates and for good reason. I don't even show what little I do have, hiding my eyes behind the thick veil and burying my kindness under arrogance.
I grasp the metal doorknob with my fingers, twisting it, and then pull it open quickly. My eyes widen in surprise, my form still, frozen with shock.
"Hey Vanessa," a figure, from my back whispers to the wind, weaving its way towards my ears.
" Oops you can't run away from your destiny, can you? I thought…