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Not wolves. Men.
Completely confused and frightened, for some strange reason being faced with five beastly men seemed far worse than a pack of wolves.
Turning, I desperately banged on the door. “Help me! Help! You must open the door. These aren’t wolves.”
Through my cries, I could hear a low, collective growl.
Knowing my salvation was my own, I gave up all hope of rescue and did the only thing I could.
I ran.
CHAPTER 2
The worst fear of all was knowing there was no escape. That no matter how fast I ran, they were coming.
The beasts were coming.
I could hear them—their heavy breathing closing in on me.
I could smell them—an animalistic scent so powerful I could barely inhale fresh air.
I could see them—out of the corners of my eyes, I saw them closing in on each side of me.
I could taste them—taste the blood on my tongue from biting my lip in order not to scream as I ran.
I could feel them—a strong hand on my upper arm, seizing me, flinging me backward, capturing me, and ending any chance of hope that I had.
Yes…the worst fear of all was knowing there was no escape.
I should have heard growls. Maybe even low, guttural sounds belonging to creatures of the forest. Not words. I should not have heard words from the two-legged demons behind me.
“Do not run from us,” one demon roared as he pulled me hard against his chest.
This was a man. A man. Not a wolf. Not a beast. A man.
I turned my head to look up into amber eyes. Piercing eyes so fierce and similar to eyes belonging to a wolf, but instead they were the eyes of a man. Four other men with the same amber eyes, and the same fury present within them, stood on each side of us.
“The wolves,” I said, not much louder than a whisper. “Where are the wolves?”
The man who held my arm asked, “Can you hear me?”
I nodded my head as I looked at each man, all of whom appeared both confused and terrifying at the same time. Cloaked in furs, with unshaven faces and long, wild hair, these men had wolfly characteristics but were not animals. They studied every inch of me from head to toe, anger seeming to stem from more than just my running away.
The man holding me squeezed my arm tighter. “What do you see? Tell us now!” His hot breath fell upon my face as he shook me slightly. “Do you see wolves?”
I shook my head, unsure of why he would ask such a question. “I see men. I see nothing but five men surrounding me.”
The man’s grip eased up, and I could hear his breath hitch.
“Grimm,” a man from the left of us said, “If you don’t claim her, then one of us will. The…need…is strong regardless of what she sees or hears.”
“Resisting her…do something now or I will,” another man added. “I don’t know if it’s the fucking curse but her smell…the fucking pull is too great.”
“The hunger,” another said, stepping in closer to us. “My body feels as if it is starved.”
“Move out of the way. I want her,” the last of the men said, getting close enough that Grimm actually snarled at the man in warning.
“No,” Grimm roared. “She’s mine. I captured her first, so she’s mine before you all.” The words from his fellow men were clearly all that Grimm had needed to not only take a stronger hold of my arm but to strip me of my clothes. Fast and furious, like how I imagined a wolf would claw at his prey, I felt every remaining shred of garment that stood in the way of what he planned to claim being ripped from me. I wanted to fight, or offer some sort of resistance, but the pure terror and shock of what was occurring paralyzed every quivering muscle in my body. Humiliation caused by my nudity was nothing compared to the suffocating fear I felt as I waited to be devoured by the man before me in the worst ways possible.
He might not be a wolf.
He might appear to be a man.
But, make no mistake…this man was a beast.
I saw it now. I saw the animal unleashed in the way he stared at me with hungry lust. He was not gently disrobing me as I’d pictured my wedded husband doing on the night I offered my maidenhead. He was not caring as my white gown fell to the ground with the red cloak piled beside it. Grimm was nothing more than a predator, I the prey, my red cloak acting as the blood I shed in this war already lost.
I stood naked before five men. Five men who, although they weren’t wolves, were more brutish than anyone I had ever encountered before. Who would do this? Who could do this? Who could stand and stare upon a naked, shivering female, with no expression or sign of feeling other than the tenting of their manhood against the fur of their kilts.
