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| 5 | The Lure

How long had it been? Jesse frequently checked the clock, and when it ticked past midnight, he glanced at Ross, who was brooding on the couch in the corner of the room. His first question was: what was he so deep in thought about? But he had a million other things to ask himself.

Ross was a Ucigaş. He killed other wolf walkers for money. And on top of that, he was a werewolf, the kind of wolf walker who still killed and ate humans. How could he be all of those things...and make Jesse feel the way he felt? Why did he make Jesse feel so eager when he touched him? Why did he make Jesse feel so strangely intimidated, meek, and obedient in such a way that it almost felt right? That it felt pleasingly intoxicating.

He frowned and took his eyes off the murderer. No, he was projecting, wasn't he? He missed James, he loved James, and he wanted James...and the fact that he'd lost him was confusing Jesse and his broken heart. All the things that Ross made him feel were just the things he wanted to feel from James. He was trying to avoid his heartbreak by imagining the longing and the desire, wasn't he?

Wasn't he?

Jesse's frown thickened as he glanced at Ross again. A part of him was curious about what might have happened if he didn't shy away, if he let his wolf take control of the entire situation. But his better judgment kept him from thinking too hard. He wouldn't have sex with someone who was likely going to kill him when he no longer needed to hide in his room.

"Sounds like the night shift is thinning out," Ross suddenly said.

Dismissing his thoughts, Jesse tensed up a little and looked at the door. His heart started beating a little faster; he knew what it meant, and he wasn't ready—he'd never be ready to dump a body overboard or have anything to do with a body at all. But he was already in too deep, and there was no lawful way out that would save him a sentence.

"You check whether the coast is clear," Ross ordered him.

Jesse was reluctant but had no choice. As his body began shaking, he stiffly stood up and edged towards the bedroom door.

"Go either way and find a window big enough to dump the body out of," Ross continued. "And don't do anything suspicious," he added with a condescending tone.

Too anxious to snap at him, Jesse stepped over the duvet-wrapped body and grabbed the door handle. He didn't want to open it; he was terrified that there might be a guard outside. So he focused his senses, listening...but all he could hear were the waves crashing against the ship, the creaking wood, and the distant voices several floors above and below. He tried to use his sense of smell, too, but the stench of wolfsbane, herbs, and gunpowder made it impossible for him to discern anything else.

"Well?" Ross urged impatiently.

Jesse frowned determinedly. The sooner this was over.... No. The sooner it was over, the sooner he might be heading for his own murder.

He let go of the door handle and turned to face Ross, who was now standing by the bed. "I-if...are...are you going to kill me?"

"Not if you don't give me a reason to, and right now, you're on your way."

Jesse quivered and faced the door. He gripped the handle, gently turned it, and eased the door open. When he peered outside, he looked up and down the corridor, and there wasn't a single Vârcolac guard or person in sight.

He silently slinked out of the room and pulled the door shut behind him. Choosing to go right, he crept along the wooden floorboards, hoping that the next one he stepped on wouldn't creak under his weight. Once he reached the end of the corridor, he went right again, and then left, emerging into a narrow, long hallway with small, round windows on the right wall. None of them were large enough to fit a body through, though.

Jesse followed the hallway, checking left and right for windows; there had to be one around somewhere—

He wasn't looking where he was going, and when he bumped into a woman, she gasped in startlement, and Jesse stumbled back and held out his hands. "I-I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where—"

"Oh, it's you," she interjected, sounding relieved.

Jesse stopped freaking out and stared at her. He realized that she was the same stewardess who had escorted him to his room before the ship left the docks.

She laughed nervously and said, "I-I thought you were the escaped prisoner."

"Oh...no," Jesse said, trying to laugh with her, but his heart was racing, and his anxiety didn't settle.

The stewardess frowned at him. "What are you doing out? The guards told everyone to stay in their rooms until the prisoner's been caught."

"I was just, um...well, I was looking for the cafeteria or whatever," he lied.

She looked up and down the hall. "Do you need it that bad? I suppose I could escort you if—"

"N-no, it's okay," Jesse said, shaking his head. "You're right. There's a prisoner on the loose. I can wait for dinner."

"All right, well, do you want me to escort you back to your room?"

"N-no, thank you. It's okay."

"A-are you sure?" she asked quietly. "I heard that he has this...power to make people do what he wants."

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"What?"

"They called it um...Lure?"

He'd heard that word before. The Vârcolac guard who interrogated him mentioned it, asking him if his pack had finally learned to resist it. And now it was starting to make sense. What if that was why he couldn't ignore Ross' orders? What if that was why he felt so drawn to him? Was it the Lure?

"And...I heard he's killed over fifty wolf walkers," the woman added.

Jesse snapped out of his thoughts. "I-I'm just...gonna go back."

She looked hesitant but nodded and said, "Okay. Be careful."

He nodded and turned around—

"I'm Sophie, by the way," the stewardess told him.

"Uh...Jesse," he replied, looking over his shoulder at her as he headed back towards his room.

He walked the halls and found his way back to the hallway where his bedroom was. There was time to think about what he'd just learned; Lure or not, there was a body that needed disposing of.

When he reached his room door, he didn't head inside. He continued forward, searching for windows; he wondered why he didn't take his chance to escape when he bumped into Sophie, but not only did he already know that it was no use, but there was also the fact that Sophie knew nothing about him, so she couldn't exactly vouch for him even if he told her the truth, could she?

With a quiet sigh, he turned left, right, and left again, and to his relief—a horror—he saw a wooden, shutter-like balcony door at the end of the corridor. He was relieved that they'd be getting rid of the body, but he was mortified by the fact that they were dumping a corpse into the ocean.

The middle of the ocean.

That Vârcolac guard could have a family. He could have a wife or husband or boyfriend or girlfriend or kids or a sister or a brother or parents who would never know where his body was. They'd never get to bury him. They'd never know the truth about what happened to him.

Guilt ensnared Jesse like a starved serpent, constricting his tense body harder and harder with every struggled breath he took. He just...stood there and watched Ross kill that man. How many more people were going to die? That guard wouldn't be the first to come and check his room, and Ross would surely kill the next one who walked through the door and anyone else he deemed a threat.

Jesse had to do something. He could prevent anyone else from being killed...all he had to do was tell the Vârcolac that their escaped prisoner was hiding in his room. If he told them how it all happened, how Ross threatened to kill him several times, and if he mentioned the Lure, then maybe they wouldn't say that he was complicit.

He stood there, staring at the window, shaking in trepidation. But there was something else keeping him frozen.

His wolf.

It disagreed with everything he was telling himself. His wolf didn't want him to turn Ross in; it urged him to continue with his task, to return to Ross like a good little boy and tell him that he found a balcony door, and to help him get rid of the body before someone found him.

The desperate, pleading animal inside him told him that helping Ross was the right thing to do...even if it wasn't the right thing to do. It was the right thing for Jesse to do. But why? Why did he feel obligated to help that murderer? That Ucigaş, that werewolf. Why did he feel that his wolf was right more than he felt like he should trust his better judgment?

But was it really his wolf? Was his wolf in its right mind? What if the Lure was affecting its mind and actions the way it was affecting him?

No, he and his wolf both disagreed. There was no power that could manipulate a wolf walker's instincts. What his wolf felt was real. But the question still remained.

Why?

Jesse stiffly turned around and began heading back. His feelings didn't matter, not while there was a body in his room that could make him look like he was aiding and abetting Ross.

When he got back to his room and closed the door behind him, though, he didn't immediately rush to help the murderer, who was standing by the body with an expectant look on his gloomy face. "What's the Lure?" he questioned.

Ross scoffed. "What?"

"The Lure. So far, two people have mentioned it; is that how you're getting me to do everything you say?"

A smirk sliced through the vacant stare on Ross' face. "I don't need to use it on you. You're already such a good little wolf."

Jesse scowled at him. "I don't want to be doing any of this!" he exclaimed. "I-I don't hurt people, I don't throw bodies overboard, and I don't help criminals!"

Ross sprung forward at the speed of light and slammed his hand against Jesse's mouth. "Keep your voice down," he snarled, glaring into his horrified eyes.

Although he was terrified, Jesse managed to fight his fear enough to yank Ross' hand away. "You didn't answer my question!" he growled quietly.

For a moment, Ross locked his intimidating gaze with Jesse's, but he quickly came to his decision. "The Lure is an ability only one wolf every ten generations is blessed with—or cursed," he said, pulling his hand from Jesse's grasp. "A wolf who possesses the Lure can enslave anyone to their absolute command, given that person isn't a higher wolf walker rank or wearing wolfsbane."

His explanation made Jesse feel sick. "So...you've been...controlling—"

"I already said that I haven't used it on you."

"And why would I believe that?" Jesse asked with a scoff. "I-I feel...like I have to do what you tell me. I-I should be going to the Vârcolac, but for some reason, I feel like I don't want them to find you, like I have to help keep you hidden," he exclaimed, confused. "And you're gonna try and tell me that all that has nothing to do with this weird little Lure power?"

"It doesn't," Ross said simply.

Jesse's confusion grew heavier. "Then...why can't I say no?"

"You did say no. And if you were under my control, we wouldn't be standing here having this conversation; we'd already be dumping the body overboard." He glanced down at the duvet-wrapped corpse. "Now, if you're done with questions, we should get rid of this before it starts to smell."

Jesse didn't move. His thoughts were once again racing as fast as his heart. Ross was right; he had said no, and he was deviating from the things Ross was asking of him—he was stalling, wasting time, and it wasn't just the obedience making him do this. His life was at stake, and so was his freedom. Pleasing Ross wasn't the only thing urging him to get it done.

And it was his wolf which wanted him to do as Ross asked, it was his wolf which felt obedient; it wasn't some other outside force influencing him, was it? What he felt was inside him. But he still didn't understand what that meant.

There wasn't time for him to stand there and try to work it out. They had to get rid of the body.

"Legs or shoulders?" Ross asked.

Jesse didn't even want to think about the fact that the corpse had no head. He crouched and took hold of the ankles, trying his best not to gag. Once Ross grabbed the other end and started standing up, Jesse got up, too. He then moved when Ross did, and when the man reached the door, he pressed his ear against it and listened.

Each passing second felt like an hour. Jesse's anxiety became so overwhelming that his legs felt numb, but he tried his best to focus. He needed to concentrate; the last thing he needed was for his fear to get the better of him and cause him to do something that gave him and Ross away. If they got caught hauling a corpse through the ship...well, that was terrible enough alone, but if he was seen doing it with the escaped prisoner...his life would be over.

Not that it wasn't already over, though.

He scowled and dismissed his thoughts. Once the body was gone, he wasn't sure what was going to happen, but for some reason, he felt as if things would be...fine. But was that feeling born of his hope that everything would be all right, or were his instincts trying to convince him that it really would be okay?