LUCY
I can't feel myself. My legs are heavy, as if tethered to blocks of lead, and my hands are feeble—jelly-like and useless.
Is this what Harlen calls being high? I wonder, feeling a dull pounding begin behind my temples as Cole comes to a stop in the mouth of a damp, narrow alleyway just behind the club.
The space is cluttered with the skeletal remains of the night: overflowing trash bins, crates of empty glass bottles piled high, and a heavy steel door that I'm certain leads back into the club's kitchens.
The sight of that door makes me feel slightly better; I tell myself I can always just slip back inside to my friends when I'm done with Cole.
Cole doesn't waste time. He pushes me against the brick wall—not roughly enough to hurt, but with a firm, territorial weight. He doesn't immediately invade my personal space; instead, he stands back to scan me.
I flush under that predatory gaze, though I notice my vision is starting to swim, the edges of the world blurring into a gray haze.
"How do you feel, Martha?"
My internal alarms go off instantly. There is a sharp emphasis on the name "Martha," a mocking lilt that tells me he knows exactly how much I lied. His voice too has shifted, losing its casual human charm and taking on a dangerous, coy note.
I try to push off the wall, to put some distance between us, but my muscles refuse to cooperate. Is this the alcohol? The cigarette? I barely took three drags of the damn thing.
Cole retreats even further, his head pivoting as he surveys the shadows. I think he's gauging our privacy, and a shudder of pure terror ripples through me at what he might have planned. But then, he lets out a low, sharp whistle.
My fear multiplies a hundredfold. The phantom's words flash across my hazy mind like a neon warning sign.
Don't go out for a week. It will do the trick.
The trick was supposed to be my safety, keeping me out of the sight of… of people like Cole. But he's human, isn't he? What would a human want with a girl like me? Rape?
I inhale sharply as four more figures step out from the darkness—four males of varying heights, their silhouettes jagged against the distant streetlights. I taste fear again for the second time tonight, and it's more bitter than the first.
I try to move, to run, but my body is a cage I can no longer control. They begin to prowl around me, their movements fluid and synchronized. They are scenting the air, their nostrils flaring as they circle me with sneers curling their lips.
"Who are you?" I manage to ask, but Cole and his "friends" don't bother to reply.
I'm certain they aren't wolves. Even though I am tagged as wolfless, I can still sense the absence of the lunar pull in their veins. So, what are these things that look and smell like humans but act like beasts?
"Hunters," Cole answers finally. He stops directly in front of me, his hand snaking out to tilt my chin up. His fingers are like ice against my skin.
I try to focus on that coldness, to understand it, but my mind is shutting down, the darkness at the edges of my vision closing in.
Oh, Goddess, please save me one more time, I pray silently. I swear I'll never be entranced by a pierced lip again!
"Are you sure she's the one?" one of the men behind him asks. His voice is gruff, a low rumble that sounds more animalistic than human.
"She should be. She has the aura," Cole answers, his eyes locked on mine. "I watched her dance. And I'm sure she turned twenty-three not long ago..."
I almost wet myself. He was the one. He was the gaze that sent chills down my back on the dance floor. I would have laughed at the irony if I weren't so close to death; I escaped the evil eye in the club only to walk right into a trap of my own making.
"What… what did you do to me?" My voice is barely a whisper now, my vocal cords feeling as heavy as my limbs.
"Nothing that your own curiosity didn't bring about." He leans down as if to kiss me again, and I manage to jerk my head away.
He only laughs. "Too late for that, Draken girl. You already have my toxins in your system from that first graze of our lips."
I swallow painfully. Toxins. I am doomed.
"Please…"
"Don't bother," he says, his voice devoid of any warmth. "You'll be dead before the night ends. We just need you alive long enough to harvest your essence, and then—"
His words trail off. His nose tilts upward, scenting the air with sudden intensity.
A second later, another male walks into the alley. He is tall, his gait confident and familiar. I feel the atmosphere in the alley snap tight like a bowed string. Cole backs away to join his group, the five of them forming a horizontal line—five against one.
I squint through the haze, focusing on the newcomer. When he finally stops and the light catches those forest-green eyes, my mouth falls open.
Tavric?
How…?
"Who are you? Leave now while we're asking nicely. The girl is with us," Cole says, his voice dropping into a register that matches the animalistic growl of his companion.
They aren't human. I realize it now. Cole must have been wearing an illusion to deceive me. But if they aren't human and aren't wolves, what are they?
Tavric's voice is exactly as I remembered it—casual, smooth, as if he's just running into old friends.
"That can't be, Hunter," he says, his eyes never leaving mine. "Because she is mine."
The raw possessiveness in that last word isn't lost on me, but I'm too far gone to care about the implications. I just want to be saved.
I slide down the dirty brick wall, unable to keep standing, my body finally hitting the cold ground.
"He is… right," I drawl, my head lolling to the side. "I came… with him."
"She isn't going anywhere," Cole repeats flippantly, not even deigning to look down at me.
Of course my words are lost on him.