Page 24 of Rabid
Picking up the bowl of water, I tip it back, my body waking up with desperation as soon as the first drop hits my tongue. I gulp down half the contents of the refreshing liquid before my stomach demands more. I set it down and look at the bowl of food, and my mouth waters. I’ve never had raw meat before, and the sight should turn my stomach, but I’m salivating as much as my wolf is.
I dig into the meat like I’m the feral beast my pack accused me of being. Growing up, I’ve watched other spirit-bound pack members prefer their meat raw. I never thought I’d be one of them, but it tastes like heaven. I swallow down huge mouthfuls, and I can practically taste the mountain grass and fresh springs that clearly sustained the venison in my mouth. I moan around a bite, and maybe I’m just starving, but this just might be the best damn thing I’ve ever eaten.
I debate saving some food for later, because who knows if this will be a regular thing, but my wolf and body are desperate for nutrients and fuel for healing. I don’t stop myself from eating every single scrap and then licking the bowl clean.
Oh, if Burke could see me now, acting like the flea-bitten mongrel he’s reduced me to.
I shake off the thought of him and what he’s done to me as I slurp down the rest of the water. My concave stomach is now pooched with sustenance, and my body begs me to rest so it can heal. But I don’t answer the call of sleep even as my eyelids grow heavy and my mind slows. I ignore the deep, jaw-cracking yawns that overtake me and start on the rope again with my teeth.
I’m not sure how much time has passed as I work to unthread and loosen my ties, but true to his word, the golden-eyed male returns, carrying in a long and narrow oval bucket that’s big enough to fit a person. Another unfamiliar male is holding the other end, and they set it down with a thud. Pulling a hose into the shack, they slowly start filling the metal container. I watch like a cornered dog, just hoping they ignore me and don’t send a kick my way.
“Terris isn’t going to like this, Warrik,” the new male with the ash brown hair says.
“Terris doesn’t like anything, and he’s not in charge, so what does it matter? Tyran will order it eventually. I’m just moving things along,” Warrik—my blond-haired shackle cutter—answers with a casual shrug.
The other male looks over at me and then back to his friend. “You know Tyran would only order it after she’s been tested and proven. You’re letting your cock do your thinking again.”
“Fuck off, Reap,” Warrik barks, but I don’t miss that he doesn’t deny the accusation.
Reap shoots me a scathing glare and then exits the shed, waiting just outside of it as though I’m contagious and Warrik can’t be trusted.
“You should clean up as much as you can,” Warrik tells me, his eyes fixed intensely on mine. “And then you should run. Run as hard and fast as you can.”
With that ominous warning, Warrik leaves, taking the hose with him, and I can hear the two males start to argue as they once again lock me in.
“What the fuck are you doing, War? You know tonight—”
“I know exactly what tonight is. And you and I both know she’s fair game for the pack. She was on our land in one of our traps. You saw the state of her. She didn’t get there by accident,” Warrik argues. “If she can run, she’ll have a fighting chance,” he adds, and then they move further away, making it harder to hear the back and forth over the pounding pulse in my ears.
If she can run, she’ll have a fighting chance.
Goose bumps crawl up my arms at the foreboding words. I need to get the hell out of here before whatever they’re talking about goes down tonight. The name Tyran sends dread hammering through me. He’s the Ruin Falls alpha, and I am not even slightly interested in what he considerstested and proven.
I stare at the rudimentary bath, debating if it’s better to clean up or stay filthy. After a couple of minutes, I decide that the buildup of sweat and filth might make me more potent than I want to be when trying to run and hide from the ruthless brutes of this pack. I walk over to it, rope plenty long enough for me to get there unhindered. I step into the lukewarm water, dipping my hair under and scrubbing the strands and my scalp as best I can without the aid of products. I wash my face next and then slowly start to scrub my body down.
I’m gentle at first, careful to work around sore spots and deep purple bruises. But as the dirt and grime slough off into the water, I suddenly find myself scrubbing frantically at every inch of me. I bite back a whimper as I rabidly work to clean away every unwanted touch, every kick, or hit, or lascivious stare from my body. Savagely, I wash and scour my skin, scraping it free of Burke, his bite, his hands, his violation.
I’m pink and raw and on the verge of screaming by the time I stop. It feels like my pack and the horrors of the past days, weeks, and months are sinking to the bottom of this now filthy water.
What would my mom think if she saw me right now?
I step out of the sludge, air drying in the cooling, dusky air as I renew my efforts with the rope still keeping me here. I get one knot loose and swallow down the elation that strikes through me, looking around as though someone might be watching and will come in at any moment to destroy the progress I’m making.
Yet nothing happens, so I keep working, wishing again that my wolf’s fangs would drop to help me tear through this thick binding. But no matter how much I plead, I can’t get her to half-shift. My eyes bounce around the waning light, the oppressive night closing in. Shadows and darkness will help my wolf and me as we run for our lives, but that ominous warning the males were talking about still blares through my head.
If she can run, she’ll have a fighting chance.
My wolf and I can do this. We will run and we will escape. Wehaveto, because I don’t want to find out what happens tonight if we don’t.
Chapter Nine
It’s amazing what my newly shifted body can do.
Now that I have my wolf, so much is different. My heightened senses, the overall feeling that I’mcomplete, my ability to shift...and how quickly I can heal.
The spots of skin that were raw and bruised from the snare and the chained cuffs are nearly cleared up. My joints no longer ache or sport rings of scraped off skin. The food and water replenished me too. By the time the sun dips down, leaving me bathed in shadows, my teeth finally saw through the last of the thick rope, lips rubbed raw, gums aching.
I yank free with an internal whoop of victory and then press my face against the slats of the shed, watching. Everything outside is already pressed with darkness, even the windows of the cabin lack any light shining through.They probably don’t even have electricity, I think to myself. When I’ve ensured that all is still and quiet, I straighten up and pull on the door, already knowing it won’t open. I test its strength anyway, but considering the state of this place, the lock and door are both shockingly sturdy.
