feel his rough hands scrape over my own silky flesh…
I took another deep inhale. I had run the emotional gambit for the day and I was tired.
And what a day it had been. I saw the slaughtered remains of Clyde, felt the rage at his loss, felt the tear and pull of my heart as Billy went missing, and now, I was feeling the temptation and lust as the dangerous Hunter kept entering my thoughts.
I stood in my bathroom, watching as a vanity light bulb flickered and then died. The dim room suddenly made me very aware that I was still naked and wet and dripping all over the tiled floor. Something just isn’t right when you’re standing alone and wet, it’s almost unwholesome.
Matt was right. I needed some sleep.
Chapter Six
The shifting sands of the desert were once again upon me. With small grains and pieces of glass that crawled over my easily torn flesh creating lines of blood that ran their way down my feet.
The scrapes didn’t hurt; instead, they felt like tiny brushes of power crawling on my skin like a feather duster being rolled down my spine.
My eyes managed to avoid my body now casting glances around at the horizon and the sky. The sun was sinking low throwing soft hues of orange and purple against the twilight-ridden sky.
I stood under the silky raindrops and felt my white sheer nightgown billow in the gentle breeze. The small titter of water brushed across my face erasing the tears that had swelled in my eyes. I don’t remember crying, but I was.
My feet turned around in the sand and saw the perfect ebony corpse of Clyde strung to a pole. His strong arms were overhead as if they were nailed through his palms. The tops of his feet were also nailed to the wooden pole as if the Romans had accused him of murder and this was his sentence. His eyelids shuttered open and with barely moving lips he whispered, “Help me”.
“How?” I asked.
He began to cry blood, leaving crimson trails flowing down his cheeks. I started to touch him, to discover some way I could remove him from this torture. The rain became heavier and pelted at Clyde’s body. The moment the water touched him, his body split apart. Flesh and skin peeled off from his bones delicately flopping onto the sand in front of me. A few spatters of blood landed gently on my cheeks. My hand wiped the blood across my face, smearing it as I tried to remove it.
I looked back at the pole and instead of the strewn corpse of Clyde, Charlie Groves, one of my wolf-brothers, was now impaled upon the post. His long blonde hair wafted on the hurried breeze, beating in time with the thunderous applause that had now taken the sky. I looked into those soft, child-like features and felt a moment of guilt. Had I allowed this to happen to him? I think I had.
It was my fault he was on that pole. But why was it my fault?
My hands reached toward him and he quivered against my touch. He shifted his body just enough that I had to move closer to feel him. As my fingers reached up to pull the metal spikes from his palms, he began to cry. The tears, once again, were blood. They etched their way down his face dragging skin and flesh with it.
His body was torn into a thousand tiny pieces, each flopping on the ground like a dying fish. His parts were alive, and yet he was dead.
I shook my head and took a deep breath, ignoring the pain and suffering that was dancing around my legs. The ancient spice of rosemary and true sage smacked itself into the air. The shadow was here. And he was watching me.
I could feel his gold eyes roam over the smallest parts of me, boring themselves deep into my soul. My heart shuttered underneath his stare and my body, uncontrollably turned around in hopes of touching him.
His stare forced my body tight and wet, making me cringe on the brittle sand. One by one my feet carried me closer to him, closer to the love who would cherish me, hold me, and protect me.
No.
As I walked aimlessly in the desert, searching for him, I felt his hot, mottled
I took another deep inhale. I had run the emotional gambit for the day and I was tired.
And what a day it had been. I saw the slaughtered remains of Clyde, felt the rage at his loss, felt the tear and pull of my heart as Billy went missing, and now, I was feeling the temptation and lust as the dangerous Hunter kept entering my thoughts.
I stood in my bathroom, watching as a vanity light bulb flickered and then died. The dim room suddenly made me very aware that I was still naked and wet and dripping all over the tiled floor. Something just isn’t right when you’re standing alone and wet, it’s almost unwholesome.
Matt was right. I needed some sleep.
Chapter Six
The shifting sands of the desert were once again upon me. With small grains and pieces of glass that crawled over my easily torn flesh creating lines of blood that ran their way down my feet.
The scrapes didn’t hurt; instead, they felt like tiny brushes of power crawling on my skin like a feather duster being rolled down my spine.
My eyes managed to avoid my body now casting glances around at the horizon and the sky. The sun was sinking low throwing soft hues of orange and purple against the twilight-ridden sky.
I stood under the silky raindrops and felt my white sheer nightgown billow in the gentle breeze. The small titter of water brushed across my face erasing the tears that had swelled in my eyes. I don’t remember crying, but I was.
My feet turned around in the sand and saw the perfect ebony corpse of Clyde strung to a pole. His strong arms were overhead as if they were nailed through his palms. The tops of his feet were also nailed to the wooden pole as if the Romans had accused him of murder and this was his sentence. His eyelids shuttered open and with barely moving lips he whispered, “Help me”.
“How?” I asked.
He began to cry blood, leaving crimson trails flowing down his cheeks. I started to touch him, to discover some way I could remove him from this torture. The rain became heavier and pelted at Clyde’s body. The moment the water touched him, his body split apart. Flesh and skin peeled off from his bones delicately flopping onto the sand in front of me. A few spatters of blood landed gently on my cheeks. My hand wiped the blood across my face, smearing it as I tried to remove it.
I looked back at the pole and instead of the strewn corpse of Clyde, Charlie Groves, one of my wolf-brothers, was now impaled upon the post. His long blonde hair wafted on the hurried breeze, beating in time with the thunderous applause that had now taken the sky. I looked into those soft, child-like features and felt a moment of guilt. Had I allowed this to happen to him? I think I had.
It was my fault he was on that pole. But why was it my fault?
My hands reached toward him and he quivered against my touch. He shifted his body just enough that I had to move closer to feel him. As my fingers reached up to pull the metal spikes from his palms, he began to cry. The tears, once again, were blood. They etched their way down his face dragging skin and flesh with it.
His body was torn into a thousand tiny pieces, each flopping on the ground like a dying fish. His parts were alive, and yet he was dead.
I shook my head and took a deep breath, ignoring the pain and suffering that was dancing around my legs. The ancient spice of rosemary and true sage smacked itself into the air. The shadow was here. And he was watching me.
I could feel his gold eyes roam over the smallest parts of me, boring themselves deep into my soul. My heart shuttered underneath his stare and my body, uncontrollably turned around in hopes of touching him.
His stare forced my body tight and wet, making me cringe on the brittle sand. One by one my feet carried me closer to him, closer to the love who would cherish me, hold me, and protect me.
No.
As I walked aimlessly in the desert, searching for him, I felt his hot, mottled
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