Of Fire And Ice
"Werewolves?" I whisper, tears streaming down my beaten and bloodied face. "Those aren't real."
I glance into Beckham's pale blue eyes.
He laughs humorlessly at me, throwing a condescending smile.
"Of course they are, and you're one of them."
I try not to cry out at the crazed man's antics. He drugged me and tied me up because he thinks I'm a werewolf?
"Please," I beg. "Let me go, I won't tell anyone. I swe-"
His hand flies out against my face and I whimper with the pain.
I'm going to die here.
"Emerson Williams," he whispers, fingers trailing down my cheek, "you're going to be my favorite."
My eyes widen in alarm at this statement, knowing all too well what he means. I start tugging on my arms and legs, trying to loosen them from the bed posts.
I begin crying hysterically, knowing this is the end, all because some guy I met believes the fairy tales he was told as a child.
He laughs again, glancing at my panicked face.
The bed starts croaking under his weight as he crawls closer and closer.
My cries become louder and more hysterical with each passing second, my limbs pulling as hard as possible against the ties.
"No, no, no, no!" I scream. "Help!" I shout as loud as I can manage. "Please!"
Beckham's hand starts trailing up my thigh and goosebumps rise in disgust.
"Please, Beckham," I beg again, "I'll do anythi-"
All of a sudden we hear a loud growl and I freeze.
Beckham stops his movements and looks up into my face, panic setting into his own.
I open my mouth to start screaming for help and he scrambles the rest of the way up the bed to clamp his hand on my mouth, silencing my pleas for a savior.
Beckham looks at the door and then rips his icy eyes to my own. He starts to giggle, "You have a mate," he whispers.
The wooden door flies open, tearing from the hinges.
My eyes latch on to emerald orbs that are about to grant me freedom.