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BLOOD ON THE STRRETS

As we close the bedroom door behind us, my heart thuds in my ears. In addition to having an aggressiveness that would terrify anyone, this stranger has an iron grip on me.

I long to nestle into my partner's warm embrace and feel secure. But I can't. As he carries me to the bed, my anxiety only gets stronger. As he settles me on the edge and starts to remove my jacket, the sheets creak softly. Panic is starting to set in, and my heart is pounding in my throat.

He throws the jacket to the ground after taking it off, almost with a disgusted expression. Then he stops for a minute, putting up his nose as though to take a whiff of the atmosphere. Using this as an excuse, I crawl farther onto the bed and farther away from him. I give myself a strong hug and bring my knees up to my chest. The white T-shirt that is left feels way too flimsy to be comfortable.

With trepidation, I swallow and watch as he moves to an adjoining room, where a bathroom is revealed by turning on the light. As I observe, my skin tingles and my mouth feels cold with saliva.

What's he going to do?

He lifts his arms above his head and removes his shirt in one fluid motion. I feel like my eyes are about to pop out of my head.

What is all this? I'm not ready for drama.

His figure is lighted by the light from behind him, resulting in a magnificent, muscular silhouette with sharply defined curves and rigid lines. His belly is equally visible even though I can only make out the faint outline of his body in the middle.

He walks confidently and slowly in my direction. He stops in front of the bed and peers down at me through dark, intent eyes. As he reaches forward, I lean back, but not far enough. He gingerly presses my jaw shut, his fingers touching just under my chin to startle and tingle there.

I realised my mouth was open and heat shoots up my cheeks. Was it really that clear?

His uncertainty catches my attention. What happens now? I am not going to let these clothes leave my body, for heaven's sake.

After that, he gives his eyes a brief moment to rest. Then, in order to break the tense silence, he turns and walks out of the room, snapping the door shut behind him.

"You smell just like him! That is not what I want. He says, "Go in there and wash it off."

He sounded as though the next thing he would say was"I'M NOT ASKING. IT'S AN ORDER!

Yikes.

Then he casually throws his T-shirt onto my lap. As he gives me instructions, his voice is icy. Grumbling even.

"You can wear that when you're done?"

"Heyy!!" I screamed, but he did not flinch; instead, he simply turned and walked away, leaving me to sit there and watch in silence as he vanished.

I furrow my brow in confusion as well as dissatisfaction.

He wants me to be free of Astrid's odour. I can only conclude that, which is a reasonable conclusion given his previous dissatisfaction with the scent. It irritates me to be treated like a doll that needs to be dressed up. I do not want Astrid's smell on me either, though, in this instance.

I carefully slide off the bed, keeping a hawk-like eye on the door. I am half expecting him to erupt through it at any second, spitting out more demands.

I tip toed into the bathroom, clenching my shirt tightly in my hand, making sure to lock the door behind me.

The hot water feels painful as it presses against my back and in between my shoulder blades. It is so burning that I think my skin is going to peel off.

I have always liked it colder. Furthermore, I would never prefer a hot shower to one that is somewhat cold or even room temperature. But I must experience the agony. It is a distraction that I must have.

With the pain, I felt the world was at pause and I could concentrate.

I struggle to ignore the current circumstance and the questions it raises. Has this stranger—my mystery mate—taken control of the pack? How many of the members of my pack did he murder? Should Astrid and I still get married?

Shrugging off the curiosity, I shake my head. Whatever occurs, occurs. It is not as though I used to have control over my life. Now what makes a difference?

After turning off the water and getting out of the shower, my attention returns to my blushing body. I am trembling as I re-dress, the heat lulling my muscles into a daze. I take a deep breath of the addictive scent clinging to this mysterious stranger's shirt, and even more warmth pools in my stomach.

Although I am not small in the slightest, it is still so big on me that I could get away with not wearing anything else. Still, I put my jeans back on. I am not ready to step over a certain line in my dignity just yet. And that would mean stepping over that line to go around pantless with my shirt tail barely covering my ass.

I go back into the bedroom, and there is no sign of my beautiful, amiable partner.

Now maybe I could get away.

I laugh at myself for coming up with such a ridiculous idea as soon as it occurs to me. Running from all I know in order to be instantly killed as a rebel? I would prefer not to. At least, not yet.

I wander out of the bedroom, which must be the guest room because it does not smell, and head down the stairs before being carried out of the front door. Neither does the stranger stop me, nor is there any indication that he was here.

The village still appears completely abandoned and barren from the outside. With the moon serving as a meek silver light source, everything is in complete darkness. As I stroll through the deserted streets—which are actually just dilapidated paths winding between the cabins—the snow crunches underfoot.

A certain smell that makes my hair stand up makes my nostrils flare. I suddenly stop in the middle of the village and get goosebumps all over my arms. I start to smell the air more deeply.

Was that Blood I smelt?

No... It's more than just blood. It's bodies. A pool of blood.

Should the odour and the desolate, dark streets not be enough to push someone over the edge, then having your every action monitored undoubtedly will.

I look up and see the same scared, inquisitive eyes peering at me through the windows.

A growl slips from my throat.

I find it intriguing that they view me as a spectacle.

I give them the same look in return, but they do not move.

I suppose I will go in if they refuse to come out.

There is more sound than there should be when the pack house's heavy door closes behind me. Usually I would try not to draw too much attention to myself, but I have not had much of a choice because of Astrid's ceremonies and this nonsense.

A dozen or so of those staring eyes are waiting for me when I turn the corner into the large living room. They are peering at me through the room's blue shadows and dark interior.

"Wow!" she mocked. You seem to be attached to him already, I see. By the way, you look great in the shirt.

Ashley exclaims in a grating, high-pitched voice and makes a dramatic gesture with her arms. She is standing next to the couch in front of one of the big windows. No question about it, a moment ago, she was peeking out.

She made a comment that, although I am not sure what she was trying to say, really gets to me.

"I do not know about you, but at least I am putting on some clothes."

I repeat back to her my heightened state of shock. Generally speaking, she is exposing more skin than she is covering. Not that it is subtle at all, considering that I was not shocked to see her partially nude in this bitterly cold weather.

I do not understand how a person in their human form could walk around in the bitter cold while partially naked, really.

I feel the tension in the room increase unbelievably. Everybody shifts uneasily between standing and sitting, but I can feel some of them staring straight through me as they silently watch.

With a sneer, Ashley crosses her arms and gestures with her finger at my face. "Shut up already, would you? You are moving around and wearing that monster's shirt while you are hurling shade at me."

I would have raised my voice.

Defended myself.

But I froze.

Monster?

Subsequently, it becomes clear.

This is the creature that all the people have been whispering about. The monster Aimee had warned me not to go near.

Well, that was a waste.

The name "MONSTER" was not very popular in this village. When someone mentioned that a monster was afoot, they meant that an actual monster was afoot.

"Are you both done?" Alpha Jaime snarls and comes through the kitchen. The atmosphere becomes tense and heavy with his presence right away. "Freya," he says, indicating for me to go into the room he was just leaving.

I am glad I have the chance to avoid Ashley , even though Alpha Jaime and his son are the last bastards I want to talk to. I sneer tauntingly at her, sticking my tongue out as I walk across the room to Jaime. I have always admired her outrage over Jaime reprimanding her rather than treating her like his lap dog. She always detested it.

I walk into the kitchen and clench my jaw at the sight of Astrid seated at the table. I have feelings for him, no question about it. Simply put, not the emotions he wants me to feel. Still, disgust is an extremely powerful emotion.

Even though I do not feel repulsed, we move toward the table. It resembles happiness more. I find something gratifying about him when he has his head lowered, his hands clasped together, and his features wrinkled from stress.

Jaime leans past me to place his palm flat on the tabletop and says, "Now, Love, if it would not be any trouble, explain to us." "Why did that monster come after you, specifically?"

Where is LILA?

My eyes widened.

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