Author's Note: Hello everyone. So, I have been working on my Circle of Stars Series, but every time I get the momentum going, life jumps up and pushes me down. Unfortunately, the series is complicated enough that if I don't have my full attention on it, I end up making a lot of mistakes and inconsistencies. So, it has been slow going.
In the mean time, I have been working on a few other projects and reading a whole lot. Now, I am a firm believer in the 'write something different' frame of mind. That's how I got my Circle of Stars Series. However, I still enjoy reading so many of the were-animal stories that follow the same prescribed universe. For those that read enough werewolf stories or other animals, you know what I mean... pack life in the woods somewhere, packs can go to war with each other, the alpha lives in the pack house, there is an alpha/beta.../omega social structure filled with expressions of male dominance, mates destined by the Moon Goddess, finding your mate can make the male stronger, and any form of rejection or betrayal is painful. There are hundreds of these kinds of stories, all following the same basic world building. And they are enjoyable to read.
So, my brain ran away with me and I started a story in this classic styled werewolf universe. However, I wanted it to be something different. I'm exploring the darker directions that such a system could create.
This is not a typical rejection story. Nor is it a typical romance. Though there maybe elements of both.
**WARNING** This story will delve into topics of kidnapping, imprisonment, crime, violence, sex, rape, torture, abuse, cussing, and more. If you are underage or don't want to read those topics, please don't continue.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The rhythm or the water would have been soothing if it hadn't been so cruel.
Drip.
As it was, it was nothing more than a taunting form of torture.
Drip.
Ears could hear the soft thudding of raindrops at the end of the hall as a door was pulled open in squeaking protests and then shut with a harsh metallic clang. How the rain made its way into the depths of the cement room, it didn't matter. It was there.
Drip.
Step.
Drip.
Step.
The footsteps were strong and full of purpose. Though just as unwanted as the drops of water that fell too far out of reach. Unable to quench the dehydrated desperation chained to the wall.
Drip.
Step.
Drip.
Step.
Only one set of footsteps.
There was no question of the destination or purpose that carried them down the hall. Not that it was a surprise. It was always the same. First the pain, then the visit.
The cell door opened to darkness. There was no energy to move, not even enough to will eyelids to open. Not that it mattered. The visit never changed.
What more could be said? What more could be done?
All that mattered was that stale, barely edible food was only given after he was done. Only then, could there be any comfort from hell.