Maeve felt herself freeze. The fingers digging into her throat drew blood and the arm arresting her waist seemed intent on crushing her innards. The smell of blood, wine and wood intensified, choking her nose.
The girl didn't enjoy how tightly she was pressed against the man behind her, but the strength he exerted was unnatural. Maeve couldn't move an inch.
Her breathing hastened and her brow began glistening with sweat.
The fact that this man had no reflection was easily the most frightening thing she had seen in her life. She had checked again and again to make sure, but there was no doubt about it. Over the glass door to her right, she could only see herself, her belly constricted and her throat with five deep, bloody indentations.
What this could mean was clear to Maeve, but she didn't dare spare any thoughts towards it.
At the moment, Maeve could hardly have cared about the golden sheen of her eyes. She looked forward and tried to call for help non-verbally.
A middle-aged man was approaching them while surveying the collection of cold beers. His trolley, filled to the brim with an assortment of beverages – alcohol mostly – squeaked as it took the lead. A woman accompanied by two children who pointed at everything with mildly colourful packaging was also approaching. Both of them spared Maeve a glance, and to her surprise, they smiled politely before passing by.
Maeve's panic soared.
What the hell? Couldn't they see that she needed help? How desperate of a face did she need to make to get some help?
Then her mind spun.
Could they actually not see the man behind her either, she thought.
A warm breath hissed against Maeve's ear again, followed by a mirth-filled voice.
"That should establish how you're probably not going to get any help. No one will hear, no one will see," the man behind her said. "Now let's get moving. I'm a bit clumsy when I'm moving fast with precious cargo. I lose balance easily in confined spaces, haha. Let's make for the exit, sweetie."
Only God knew how much fury the sultry voice gathered within Maeve. She might have given anything for it to become Roddy's instead.
Maeve felt the five fingers in her throat dig even deeper.
"Move," came the voice.
She cooperated.
She moved stiffly forward. The man detached himself from her, but kept his hand on her neck.
The two moved rather slowly from the aisle and headed towards the exit. Maeve kept trying to signal people for help, but as the man had said, no one could see. What they did see, Maeve couldn't have told even herself, but it built up her frustration even more. Somehow, she could tell that once they were at the exit, it was over for her.
She ground her teeth.
Fear and panic melded with the frustration to create a useless, burning lump in her chest.
It was only when the warmth outside the building finally caught up to the two, that the man behind Maeve spoke again.
"Good. Now take a little nap."
Right then, Maeve felt a sharp pain behind her neck and then darkness devoured her vision.
…
…
…
"…sounds tedious. I taught you how to steady yourself when speeding. If that doesn't work for you, don't bother compelling a whole fucking supermarket. Just grab and go. No one will see you whether you crash into a cashier or whatever along the way."
"Uh, I get it already, Luke. I got her here either way, didn't I? And perfectly too – no mishaps. She's still budding though. She caught my scent but couldn't notice me come up behind her."
"That's only natural. She's either got some really pathetic genes or just dumb – the kind that runs from reality. Interestingly though, I didn't know wolfies could grow out of their teens without going through a Howling."
"Me neither. But hey, on the bright side, I don't have to feel like some weird pedophile. Damn is she pretty. Too bad I don't swing for furs. Where's Tony?"
"Doing what he does best, flirting. He should be coming up pretty soon. I'd rather we get this over with. The sooner we get rid of all the… oh, she's awake."
And indeed, the voices had been ringing in Maeve's ear as she stirred. She was just a little late in opening her eyes and convincing herself that this wasn't some fever dream. She groaned.
The walls were quaking. Intense music was booming from outside the small room, muffled yet potent all the same. A purple neon light flooded the room, making everything hard to see clearly.
Maeve attempted to struggle as she winced from the throbbing of her head. She faintly remembered received a blow to the neck. The attacker hadn't at all been concerned by the damage it would do to her.
The girl's hands were tied behind her, the knots made around a cool, steel pole that fed from ceiling to floor. She was on an elevated platform, with a couple of thick, cushiony seats a tier below cascading before her all the way to the door. The two men Maeve had been hearing were standing right at the foot of the platform.
Maeve tried to break free but it was no use. The tight ropes that bound her - feeling more like thin cords, as her brain interpreted - hurt her wrists the more she struggled and the dancing pole wouldn't budge. It was surprisingly firm - or perhaps unsurprisingly.
'Fuck,' Maeve thought. She was terrified.
Right then, cold beer splashed on her face.
"Hey sweetheart, right here," one of the two men said. "At least address us before you start trying to go all Mission Impossible."
Maeve couldn't make out his details very well. This room, unfortunately, wasn't made to allow for sense and reason, only pleasurous sensation. The neon light made sure who you were pleasuring was a faint concern, if even that.
The man leapt onto the platform and roughly pulled Maeve's chin up.
"Well damn, Luke. You weren't kidding. She's a beauty. She's got a figure on her too. What do you think, should we make her dance? These legs were made to sling around a pole," the man said.
All Maeve could tell about him was that he was rather muscular, and his large, grey eyes – prominent even in this light – made her shiver. The odd scent of blood, wood and wine wafted from him too. It was particularly powerful.
The other man, Luke, laughed. Maeve could tell he was the one who had kidnapped her.
"Nah. I'd probably have nightmares if I made a wolf twerk for me," he said and chugged whatever was in a glass he was holding.
Maeve could feel her fury rising with as much intensity as her fear. She did well to stifle it. She wasn't in a position to run her mouth. Especially since these men – and she hated to think it – were probably…
"Who are you? What do you want?" Maeve asked, doing her best to keep her composure. The man in front of her flashed her a grin.
Whether he would have answered or not remained a mystery, however, because at that moment, the door at the opposite end of the room opened and two individuals locked in passion stumbled inside. All Maeve saw were hard-to-define dark figures tangled together. She could make out that one of them was female at least, because she heard a girlish giggle.
The wet, sucking sounds of intense kissing echoed through the room along with masculine growls of excitement.
"Hey Tony! There's like a dozen other rooms here, go get freaky somewhere else, man!" Luke barked as he flung his glass across the room. It shattered into shards.
The barely visible man kissing a vaguely defined young woman turned to him.
"Thought you might wanna watch, but whatever," he said and dragged the giggling girl towards the platform where Maeve was. His shape became clearer, but Maeve was still unable to make out his features. The stench of blood, wine and wood intensified twofold as the man drew closer, and Maeve grew more and more uneasy.
She was already unnerved by other two men, but this other one… There was something about him.
Tony stopped two meters short of the foot of the platform and he suddenly pulled the giggling girl in front of him.
His green eyes pierced the sombre purple neon in the room and stared right at Maeve. The girl felt her hair stand on end.
She watched as the man pushed away the giggling girl's hair. The girl exposed her neck for him while moaning seductively. Maeve's heartbeat quickened.
'No…' she muttered in her mind.
Tony's cold green eyes, still pinned on Maeve, seemed to say 'Yes'.
Even in the sparse, chaotic lightning, his fangs were pronounced. As they were revealed, he hissed and a sound akin to a stab came when he plunged into his victim. There was a long, vicious sucking noise afterward, but there was no passion in it.