Cinnamon, a distinct spice. Down a bustling sidewalk or held up in a crowded elevator, its aroma encapsulates the senses. So, there was no surprise when Milo homed in on it. Over the putrescent stench of baking soda, lemon, and...vinegar?
"Halifax, can you hear me?"
Her melodious voice caused his head to jerk in its direction. Something cool and heavy rest over his eyes.
"Ah, your awake! Hold on."
Footsteps padded across the room and a high pitch scraping rang out as curtain rings slid along a metal rod.
"Sorry, it's bright in here. I don't want your eyes to hurt."
More footsteps, closer now. Cool hands grazed his cheeks. They slid up to his eyes, removing the cloth. He waited with bated breath before opening his eyes. At first the room appeared hazy. A tangerine glow emitted from a candle on the nightstand.
"How are you feeling?"
Her concerned tone pulled his gaze to her. Milo tried to recall a time he's ever seen Elaina with her hair down. Wavy strands cascaded over her shoulders. The baggy tan sweater made her appear shorter than she was. Milo remembered that he had a similar sweater somewhere around here.
Looking, he spotted the dresser gone. Baskets of laundry sat in its place; the clothes neatly folded. The wall that took the brunt of the shotgun shells still had a large hole, showing the insulation inside. His carpet, now a mixture of beige and pink, was sopping wet. A bucket and sponge sat next to where he first collapsed.
Furrowing his brows, he went to sit up. His bones popped from the movement. He had hoped that the events were a dream. However, a dull ache pulsated in his side.
"I feel...dead?"
Her light giggle filled the air.
"You're not if that's any reassurance. You were unconscious for two days. He nicked you good. I didn't think I'd be able to save you. Dr. Wreath wasn't sure the transfusion would take and..."
Trailing off she jumped up out of the chair by his bedside, going back to the bucket. Milo watched her wring out sponge and start working on the carpet. She kept her gaze down, not glancing up to meet his confused stare. As if knowing the imminent questions to come.
"Elaina...what are you?"
"Yes, he was Khalia's doctor."
Did she not hear?
"Elaina."
His voice cracked slightly. A burning sensation irritated his chest and where that beast cut him. Elaina paused. He could see the contemplative expression. Her mouth hanging open, then abruptly shutting.
"Elaina...Elaina don't ignore me! I was just gutted by a fucking monster and then you turned into one. Tell me!"
She winced at "monster" and ceased her actions. Letting go of the sponge she warily stared at him.
"...I'm a Lycan."
"A what?"
Again, she murmured.
Milo clenched his fist together, eyes narrowing at the woman. Electricity surged through his veins. With swiftness an injured man shouldn't have he charged towards her, snatching her arm. Yanking her off the floor, the motion stunned them both. Underneath he felt her arm tense, and she pulled back. Time stopped as he watched her fist fly at him.
A crunch pierced the air as her fist crushed his nose. Sprawling, he hit the ground violently. Something ripped near his side, and a warmth touched his stomach.
"Don't ever in life think you can fucking touch me like that."
Footsteps marched over to his writhing form. Kneeling she carefully avoided the blood dripping spewing from his nose. Between them thick budding detest grew as Elaina glowered at the hate Milo bore into her.
"Get out of my fucking house. Now."
The words were muffled but she understood. Sneering, Elaina hurried to the door. Milo pulled himself up off the floor, flinching as a towel hit him in the face. He pressed it against his crooked nose, glaring at her with bleary eyes.
"I'm going to Whistling. You can stay here and curse my kind and me all you want. Fact is Milo, humans are not the only beings. There's a lot I want to tell you...wanted to tell you. With how badly this escalated...you're not ready for what's out there. Which is why it sucks it has to end like this...I thought we were getting along."
He said nothing and stared blankly at the woman he spent the last few weeks with. She gave him a half smile and though he could be imaging it, a sparkle in her eye. She was waiting for something. Something he wouldn't give her. Raising his hand, he dismissed her. Seeing her shoulders sagged sent a chill through his heart.
"By the way, the transfusion, my blood will leave your system over the course of a few days. Until then there will be some adverse side effects. Ignore them and you'll be fine. It was the only way I could save you. Good luck out there...Hal...Milo."
He waited until he heard the front door slammed to move. The towel was dyed red and becoming more drenched by the second. Heading to the bathroom he paused in the doorway. The dingy carpet he vowed to vacuum weeks ago had crisp clean lines on the surface. Baseboards, a cleaner's nightmare, were polished and shown immaculate. The pale blue walls were tainted a slight pink. Partially faded from the scrubbing someone did.
Seeing this prompted him to step further into his adobe. Dirty clothes were piled in a corner, the ashtrays were emptied, and three candles were spread about. Looking at the labels, none of them said cinnamon. Groaning, Milo threw the towel on the coffee table. It landed with a loud squelch. Heading to the kitchen. He took a deep breath to calm his flurry of emotions.
Why did she clean up?
The idea of being grateful came but rapidly changed to anger.
That thing went through my stuff.
Huffing at the thought, he went straight to the fridge, grabbing one of the neatly stacked pints of Jameson. During his emotional unrest a pleasant odor pulled at him.
Searching, Milo stopped and finally observed the kitchen. It was in shambles. Flour dusted the counters and floor, eggshells sat in a pile nearby the stove, and vegetable oil dripped onto the floor. The sink, filled with soapy water, was a breath away from overflowing.
Nonetheless, amid it all, a pan of cinnamon rolls sat. The toasted golden-brown buns steamed lightly, creating ripples in the air. Cream cheese melting atop the bread and flowing off to pool around it. Enormous and mouthwatering, Milo's stomach rumbled. Sorrow reflected at him from the glass paned cabinets.
"Damn. Damn, damn, damn!"
*~*~*
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Two days. Two days of perpetual fear and grief. The latter being the worst. A festering wound on the mind and body. Leaving a deep sense of hopelessness with nothing to entertain but the "What if's":
What if they went tropical? Cruise to Jamaica?
What if her car broke down on the way to the Cape?
What if they took what the ranger said more seriously?
What if she picked Marcus over Theo that night, would she be dead too?
In the icy and poorly lit cabin, these hypotheticals rampaged Khalia's mind. Burying her damp face deeper into her pillow, she pulled the duvet over her head. Diesel's tags chimed lightly as he stirred on his bed.
Diem was swift in alerting Gian and the others of the threat. Speeding back up the mountain in half the time it took to leave it. Slowing only when they encountered slick road further ahead. In the entirety of the drive he said nothing. She found it nerve-wracking. Watching his jaw flex and skin slither. When he opened his mouth to huff, she spotted large canines. Shaking his head, they disappeared.
Occasionally he'd glance at her. His gaze always on her marred face. It sent a chill down her spine every time. In those instances, Diesel would pop his head in the front. Panting away as he licked her cheek, dispelling the uncomfortable atmosphere.
When they reached the cabin Beta Chase stood outside. The tail end of his robes dragging along the ground while he approached the truck. Diem cracked his window a pinch, which annoyed the other man. His look of disdain deepened when he saw her. Her face flushed from the discomfort, and she looked away.
Unexpectedly a growl, much louder than Chase's resonated from the backseat. Diesel jutted his head to the front, teeth bared and sized up the Beta. Diem ruffled his head.
"Good boy."
As minuscule the gesture, she couldn't help but smile, Chase on the other hand, huffed.
"Luna Nyla and...Alpha Gian had important matters to see. The Kirma is to lodge here at the request of Luna Nyla. Any information you have about this, Theo Cvengros, present it tomorrow in the Main House."
Hearing his name caused Khalia to shudder and sadly not of fright. Pouting, Beta Chase took his leave.
"I don't know what you did to Diesel but...thank you. Thanks for all this. Sorry if it sounds disingenuous. I'm feeling-"
"Discombobulated? Scared? Aroused? All the above?"
Letting out a deep chuckle he hopped out the truck as she glared at his backside.
"You aggy. I'm being genuine here."
"Are you having a stroke?"
Khalia gasped but cackled all the same. It wasn't long before they carried her belongings in the bedroom. Khalia's eyes watered from the staleness of the room. It was surprisingly large and bare, except for few clothing and a ridiculous amount of pillows.
At first, she found the twenty sizable pillows peculiar, however Diesel quickly squashed the oddity. Immediately he went to sniffing, pausing to roll his head in the smelly pile. Dropping the bags in her arms she ran over and yanked his collar.
"Diesel stop! That's nasty! It stinks! Do you want to stink? Do you want to smell like another dog's ass? No? Didn't think so."
Dropping his ears he whined.
"Well damn."
Startled, she rolled her eyes at Diem, who leaned against the doorway. His tossed hair grazed the doorframe, a mess from the day's activities. He appeared laxer but she noticed the mild tension in jaw. He rubbed his 5 o'clock shadow before rolling up his sleeve and coming in the room. Even in the dull lighting she could make out the rope like veins that wrapped his arms.
Putting his hands in his pockets the added weight exposed his red briefs. Images of what's underneath filled her thoughts, and she rubbed her cheeks.
"Ya know, he sees you lusting for him like a cheap harlot. We should be searching for out Fated. Not entertaining Jaundice Goblin."
Her dulcet voice spoke in her mind. Khalia's brows arched in response. Diem gave a ghost of a smile.
"Can you hear her now?"
"Her being who? Myself? It's honestly very fucking annoying. These thoughts, they aren't mine. It's a parasite."
Bringing her arms up she wrapped them around her. A faint growling sounded by her ear. She fanned her hands.
"Parasite seems a bit over the top."
"Says the one with yellow irises. She called you Jaundice Goblin by the way."
Diem snorted and headed over to the makeshift bedding. He glanced at the pillows, a mischievous glint tugging his lips. Reaching down he picked up a red stained pillow.
It was worn and lumpy. The edges were frayed, showing the stuffing within. She about mistook it for a small animal with the fur on it.
"Here. Smell this."
"I beg your fucking pardon?"
"Did you hear me stutter?"
Another glare aimed his way. Shaking his head he chucked it at her, snickering when she jumped. Khalia wanted to smack the playful look off his face. This wasn't the time nor place. Sensing her need for violence a cocky grin formed, and he strolled towards her. Retrieving the pillow, he held it up between them. She saw the fur was a mixture of colors, brindle mostly.
"Sniff. If you comply, I'll go back for your bed."
"That's a bit unreasonable my guy."
"Do you want to sleep on this floor? I guarantee you don't want to sleep on this floor." The cocky grin became a cocky smile.
"Boy get outta my face."
"Make your choice."
"Fine!"
Huffing, she balled up her fist before snatching it from his hand. Diesel, aka traitor, was glued next to him. Taking the affectionate pats to his dome. Keenly they watched her bring the pillow up to her face. Inhaling, her nose crinkled at the burning sensation, and her skin crawled at the bits of fur. She pulled it back.
"Diem."
"Focus."
Sighing, she brought it closer. At first Khalia expected the same allergen fueled burn. It was a bit of a surprise when the robust smell of pine struck her senses. She practically tasted the citrusy needles on her tongue. Deeply intrigued, she focused on that spot. This time the crisp smell of peppermint stung her nostrils. A stimulating find considering the source. Soon, she found herself probing the entire pillow.
Dirt freshly excavated. Vanilla, and not that knock off shit, this was lavish. Unconsciously she licked her lips.
"Khalia?"
Elk? Turkey? It couldn't be placed.
"Khalia."
Is that blood? Her stomach growled.
"Khalia!"
"What!"
She shouted and snapped her head up to a smug grin. A tickle brushed her cheeks and nose. Looking down Khalia noticed a clean spot on the pillow.
"Ugh!"
Pulling the sleeves of her hoodie, she desperately cleaned her face. Plucking clusters of fur from her mouth as well. Diesel soon whined happily, joining in with the man who was doubled over, screeching. They hollered as she shambled around for water.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Diem pointed to the truck. In the cup holder was a tumbler that she wasted no time snatching. She doused her face and gargled, spitting on the ground. When their eyes met this time, he gave her his brightest smile.
"Still think I smell?"
*~*~*
That question remained at the forefront of her mind. Popping up amid her pity party. Diem did as promised, retrieving her bed even the adjustable frame that couldn't be used. She hadn't seen him since that day.
Caleesi visited after daycare duties. Filling her in on people, and a life she's yet to experience. Beta Chase did as well, though he stayed a distance away from the cabin. Informing her that her permit was valid, unfortunately. She wasn't sure if he intended on the last part being heard. The meeting was moved to tomorrow. Like Caleesi, she couldn't leave. Truthfully, that was the last thing she wanted.
Khalia would never admit that her two days here were spent with lascivious dreams of Theo, sleeping or awake. She continually roused with her hand between her thighs or inside her. Moaning for someone who wasn't there, who wasn't wanted. And the voice, Parasita she named her, laughs. Titters at her denial and guilt.
This night was no better. When the moan shot past her lips and her toes curl, she closed her eyes at the blissful waves. Resting her hand atop her clit, she lay in humiliation.
"He feels us. When you touch yourself, he knows you think of him."
"Who? Diem?"
The growl in her mind made her flinch. Khalia snorted, having caught on to the Stockholm Syndrome this thing possessed.
"Fuck with ya mama bitch, not me. The sooner I'm rid of you the better. The sooner all of this is over, the better."
"Hmm, well, there is a way that might work. It's risky."
That statement quipped her interest and she sat up on her bed. A dim glow cast into the room. The fire would need more wood soon. Getting out, Khalia shuffled over to the fireplace.
"You have to be relaxed for it to work. More relaxed than we already are." She chuckled.
There was a charming tone in Parasita's voice. One that shouldn't be trusted but pessimism was mute at this point. She didn't care what the trick was as long as she wasn't inside her head any longer. Throwing a few logs into the fireplace, Khalia bustled to her duffle bag from the trip. Digging in the pockets until she found the small pill bottle.
Diem had been adamant that drugs weren't to be used on Cruel-Mane territory. Finding her stash to be of the degenerate mindset. Regardless she scooped up her Bud jar he tossed to the floor, leaving her Tabs for another day.
Popping the pills the, she grimaced. The rule frustrated her. She wasn't a part of this place. Who were they to tell her how to conduct herself? She lost everything, gaining nothing but a demon. By no means would she ever call herself a fiend. But two days with no high? Come on now.
Why be sober if my life is over?
Another chortle of laughter. In her mind, a beast stalked the shadows. Amber eyes, gleamed as its body remained hidden. The vision felt unsettling real, and she shook her head to expel it.
"Your life is far from over."
Ignoring her Khalia pulled a chair up to the fireplace. The budding warmth gave her goosebumps. Diesel, stirring from her movement, peeked his head out the bedroom door. Giving him a smile, she waved him off to return to sleep. Yawning, he dragged himself next to her chair, where he threw himself down.
"You're going to break a hip doing that."
Returning to her hands, Khalia stared at the pre-roll. Quickly lit the joint and all her problems melted away after the first inhale. The sour floral taste twirled in her mouth. Throwing the empty bottle into the flames, Khalia tilted her head back in the chair.
Drag after drag she pondered life until her vision blurred. Deciding that was enough, she flicked the roach into the fire. Standing up, she leaned sideways, vertigo taking ahold. Simultaneously, the crackling of the fire grew deafening. Everything seemed deafening. Diesel's breathing sounded as if it was right in her ear. She could hear the crunch of snow, though none was around the cabin.
"You're so fucking naïve."
Opening her mouth to rebuttal Khalia's tongue swelled. Her body grew heavy like stone, and she collapsed to the floor, startling Diesel. The room spun while a dull pain coursed in her veins. Putting a hand on the chair, she screamed at the long black hair bursting out her flesh. A fire flourished in her mind. Bringing her hands up she flinched at the claws that dug into her temple. Diesel cowered in the bedroom.
"We will not share our affection."
Panic gripped her realizing what Parasita meant. The fog in her mind dissipated and a beast slinked forward. Khalia stilled, agonized by the sight and pain that overcame her. It looked like Theo, opposite in color, down to the markings on the muzzle. Slender and shorter in stature. Feminine, but not in energy. When it dragged its finger across its throat, she slammed her head against the floor, dispelling the nightmarish visage.
The pain eased after that blow, buying her a smidge of time. Clambering to the cabin door, she threw it open. The cool frosty air made her recoil and the fire roared. Tendons stretched apart in her feet, and she unleashed another cry. Terrified, she turned to Diesel.
"Go Diesel! Go!"
*~*~*
"F-fuck, Lia Baby, you are my favorite bitch."
Theo stilled his hand over the tip of his dick, sighing at the warm cum that seeped onto his palm and fingers. The boulder he rests on cooled his increasing temperature. The night was now silent except for the soft plodding of approaching footsteps and the babbling stream. Sitting up he looked down at his naked appearance. The fresh scars from that wretched wolf.
"Khalia will make it better." His beast purred to him, and he found himself nodding, picturing her full lips wrapped him.
He needed to taste her. The desire becoming stronger than his want to breath. To have her prostrate at his feet, for him and him only. He grew arrogant, taking advantage of a sacred rite. Turning a human, gifting her with his power. Usually, he slaughtered them in time. Struck them down before it's completion. It made the hunt, the thrill. Feeling their torment, their terror, and knowing he's the reason. It's paradise.
Until this one lived.
The attachment grows stronger the longer she lives. He found himself pondering her wellbeing. Daydreaming about her smile, simply disgusting.
Humans are broken toys. Killing her would end these frivolous emotions.
"You! State what business you have in Whistling territory!"
A gruff voice barked at him. Lazily he turned in their direction. Eyeing the three men and a woman who stood on the opposite side of the stream. He studied them while two of the men shifted. It left the couple; he assumed the Alpha and Luna. The other two broke off, moving to flanking positions.
"Again, what business do you have in my territory!"
"Looking for something I've lost."
"We have nothing for you. Take your exit now. We don't give second chances!"
The woman spoke this time. Her voice wavering at the end once she got a closer look at Theo. Theo grinned widely, his eye changing. The flanking wolves growled, and the others began shifting. Abruptly a howl broke out in the distance. It sent a delightful shiver through his body and his dick began to harden.
"Actually, I think I've found it."
They snarled at his response, all four leaping at him simultaneously. Theo barely contained his excitement, snarling back, before shifting to clash.