Ayla

A tall, broad chested man approaches through the dust. He appears taller than the door frame. Cloaked by shadows, I can only see the flicker of his gold eyes, and the outline of his body cast from the light. I can hear the clunk of his boots as he steps into the underground bunker that houses me. I immediately recognize that this man is an alpha wolf. He’s extremely dominant and it’s pulsing through the room causing me to involuntarily bow my head and submit my neck from the presence of his energy alone, despite not having Aramana. He smells of earth and pine. Dirt of the forest and beautiful trees. He reminds me of the freedom I once had. The ability to run through the forest, the smells of the earth and the softness of the forest floor between my toes, breeze in my hair and the sun shining on my face or warming my fur as I chased rabbits and played with my siblings. He smells comforting. He smells peaceful. He smells of home.

Is he my new warden? My new master to abuse me? Maybe an alpha rogue taking what he wants? I feel the front of my cage and start to slide backwards when the warden that was sprawled over me springs off of me straight up into the air and towards the new alpha. He is immediately knocked out by the new alpha throwing a right hook. I see it coming from the flicker of the stairway light and it was lightning fast. The warden had no chance at defending himself. He hits the concrete hard, a loud cracking sound echoing with a thud as he hits the unforgiving floor, then nothing. Quiet follows. Too quiet.

I start breathing hard and loud as I panic and scoot back into my cage. He’s killed the warden which should bring me tears of joy, shouts of elation, but instead I’m overcome with extreme anxiety and fear. My mind starts racing thoughts and its overwhelming. What if he is worse? What if the other shifters I smell came to hold me down? What if they want to chase and hunt me? I am hyperventilating at this point and becoming nauseated and dizzy. I can’t do a false heat right now. I can’t outrun a shifter pack. I can’t….I….just…..can’t…..”Aramana? Aramana, can you hear me, I need you.” I push into my mind, searching, pleading, hoping to connect, but I’m met with silence.

“Sshh sshh ssshhh”….”It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay…. I’m not going to hurt you. We are here to help…. I promise. I know that probably doesn’t mean much to you right now, but I always keep my promises. It’s going to be okay.” The new alpha whispers to me from the dark in front of my cage. He sounds so calm and comforting. Help. A normal word that should comfort. A word I can’t remember the last time it has manifested in my life. Nobody helps me. Nobody says a word about what I endure, what is done to me and nobody comforts. Especially murderous, rage filled, dominant alphas. They make false promises and they definitely don’t care about my comfort. They break you and leave you a smell of yourself each time.

A softer warm hand settles on my shin and a sudden wave of warmth travels up from my toes and creeps slowly over my entire body. The most amazing warmth and peace I have ever felt settles in me, setting my veins on fire and I start to feel a slight burning over my forehead and ribs. Not painful, but not pleasant either. The healing force at work in my body. A calloused hand settles on my shoulder through my cage bars. I jump again. The smell of pine invading my senses and creating a comforting presence within me. I don’t want comfort. I don’t want peace and warmth. It’s foreign and full of lies. I can’t trust it. I feel the swelling from my eye receding, the pain subsiding. My ribs are tender, but are no longer radiating excruciating pain with every breath I take. The peace radiating through me brings a slight smile to my face. The feeling itself weird. I can’t remember the last time I smiled or enjoyed any healing because healing brings fresh beatings.

A quick pinch to the back of my arm causes me to jerk away. An injection. I should’ve known this was coming. They just want a heat and probably get off from pretending to be the hero only to turn into a villain. Maybe they prefer to Stockholm syndrome in their captives. Grooming the women to feel safe while being the threat. I start to feel dizzy and everything starts sounding muffled and warped. My eyes begin to get heavy, rolling into the back of my head. My head begins rolling on my shoulders. I start nodding “no” repeatedly in what feels like slow motion. My head slumps firmly into my cage wall. My eyes closing, too heavy to open and the sounds ending.