The Moon's Fangs | 1

10 | nox

Amelia

Consciousness regained; my hand subliminally reached up my shirt to touch my side. When my fingers didn't find a bloodied wound, my other hand swept across cool sheets.

For a moment I thought I was back in my own bed, and everything had only been a vivid nightmare. Even the pain was gone, from my toes all the way up to my head. Taking a deep breath no longer stabbed at my side. Everything felt normal. Laying down like this... it felt good.

Relief washed over me. I turned into the pillow, burying into it to find just a few more minutes of sleep.

"Not planning on going back to sleep, are you?" a smoky voice broke the silence.

That small moment of peace shattered.

I gasped, jolting upright in a frantic scramble. I kicked my legs, snatching a pillow for protection, then froze like a petrified bunny.

It was like reality decided to skip its intermission and threw me right back into the ring. No pep talk, no warnings, no nothing. Had fate bet against me or something?

Reks sat unperturbed in a rounded black armchair right next to the bed. As if in a futuristic movie, his fingers swiped across a holographic projection the size of a laptop screen. It wasn't attached to anything. The little projection hovered in the air next to him without any assistance.

I stared wide-eyed at him while my heart couldn't decide between a thunderstorm or dead silence. His dark eyes continued to calmly read the text displayed across the projection as if deep into an interesting book. As if nothing absolutely insane had happened, like I don't know - how he lost his freaking rocker. As if I hadn't been attacked by a snake... the snake!

My eyes darted around, hunting down the little monster who had it out for me. It was nowhere to be found within my line of sight. But the space was different than before. Had he moved me into a different room? This one had a closet and some furniture. But the pillow I chunked at the snake laid in the same spot as before. And... was that a bloodstain on the floor?

I looked over towards the door. It was open, practically calling out my name. My weight shifted, wondering if I'd be fast enough to make a run for it. Nothing hurt anymore, so my odds had to be better.

My long legs usually gave me an advantage in running scenarios, but this guy looked built like an athlete. And he was strategically and irritatingly placed within arm's reach if I so dared.

I glanced uneasily back at Reks, weighing the odds. The side of his finger brushed his bottom lip in thought while he read. He appeared relaxed, but a gut feeling said he looked that way for a reason. Was he testing me? Seeing if I'd make a run for it?

The guilty would run, which I'm not, but I also don't want to die, so...

"If you're going to freak out, I'd prefer you get it out of the way," he said dispassionately, swiping a finger across the projection to a new page.

My jaw dropped an inch. The nerve this man had. Did he really think so highly of himself? Someone —who could discreetly call and not get caught in his clutches— needed to knock him off his high-horse.

I carefully pulled the ovo out of my pocket from behind the pillow I hugged to my chest. His statement told me everything I needed to know. He was under the assumption I couldn't get away, even if I wanted to. But that wouldn't stop me from trying. No, sir. Playing the scared, weeping prisoner went out the window the moment snakes literally sprang out of the freaking wall.

I readied my finger over the back of the ovo, just like how he did it earlier. My heart drummed loudly against my chest, begging me not to test him, but I did anyways. Before I could let doubt or common sense stop me, I chunked the pillow at his face and darted like a mad woman to the exit. My feet slapped the floor like the first animal in a stampede.