Rabid For Her Revenge
SIX

The glass plate laughed at me as I stared down at it, the tiny digital screen blank. I gritted my teeth, trying to force myself to get over this ridiculous reservation and just step on the damn thing.

I didn’t want to see its answer. I didn’t want it to tell me what I already knew. That I was weak and sickly.

I didn’t want it to tell me I wasn’t gaining weight. I didn’t want it to tell me that I was unhealthy.

Health had always been important to me, it had been essential to my nomadic lifestyle, I counted on my health and strength to help me out of sticky situations whether it called for fight or flight. It had mattered during my first months with Myrin and had been essential to my escape plans.

But my health had failed me at the most critical chance I’d had at escaping Myrin. I had been too tired to continue, too weak to fight back when I was caught, too exhausted to run. If only I had managed to escape then I never would have needed to deal with the mercury that now ran through my veins, bringing me constant discomfort.

Health had stopped mattering to me then.

Instead, I wished it would fail me entirely and my body would shut down and finally let me die.

I had let my body deteriorate to this mess of bones covered by a thin blanket of scarred skin. I did not know who I was when I looked in the mirror, all I could see was Myrin’s creation.

That thought sent me to the toilet to hurl my guts up once again but this time no one walked in on me.

I had removed the mirror and slid it under the untouched bed. The same bed that I could never look at for too long without seeing myself there, trapped under Myrin. I always turned away just as I turned away from the scale now.

Only to come face to face with yet another fear.

The shower was as daunting as the scale, and I hated the fact I had to submit to it. That I had to work my way around it but never get over the fear itself. My eyes slid to the hole in the ground where the white porcelain tub stared back up at me.

I jerked away my eyes immediately.

Baths were only worse. The memories of drowning, of being pushed under the water while I thrashed around and hitting my head on the hard tub while water forced its way past my lips and down my throat, overwhelmed me.

Swallowing thickly, I pushed past the shower door and stepped into the tiled surface. My hand reached out and stabbed the button that turned the shower on and released an icy spray over me.

I sucked in a breath at the initial shock, the mercury in my blood freezing temporarily at the icy pricks on my skin, intensifying the uncomfortable feeling.

Staring at the button to turn the heat up I swallowed again, my finger slowly coming towards it and clicking it.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

The water grew warmer, a soothing feeling on my body.

I let my hand drop away, forcing it to stay at my side even though it itched to instantly turn down the heat.

No, I told myself. You are safe here.

I closed my eyes and let the water wash over me. I let the heat seep into my skin to ease the chill in my bones. I let it soak in through my scalp, easing the roaring in there that demanded I turn the water back down before it was too late.

When I opened my eyes again the glass was fogged over, and I could not see anything.

My heart jumped into my throat and I stumbled back, hitting into the black granite wall that surrounded the bathroom. My hands splayed out on the wall behind me, the condensation making them slip down.

And then I saw it.

I saw his shadow, the silhouette of his figure beyond the door walking closer to me. I could hear his footsteps as he closed in and I was utterly trapped with nowhere to go.

My breathing quickened as the figure stopped just before the door. I was frozen, unable to move, unable to blink.

But then I remembered, and I unfroze, springing to the panel and turning the water back to its coldest setting. I frantically wiped my hand across the glass, the shadow of Myrin vanishing with every swipe of my hand.

When the glass was once again clear I sank to the ground, the cold water running over me and dissipating the warmth that I had finally achieved.

I sat on the tiles, hugging my knees close as I stared out those shower doors.

I don’t know how long I sat there, but I was afraid that the moment I stood and turned my back to shut off the water he would be back again, pinning me against the wall with my face smashed to the side, unable to see anything, unable to know what he had planned for me until he was carrying out what he had in mind.

I was only drawn out of my daze when I heard my bedroom door open and then close. I was out of the shower faster than a bolt of lightning, sprinting across the bathroom without a care that I was naked and soaking wet.

I flattened myself against the wall on the right side of the door, urging my breathing to go quiet until the rising and sinking of my chest was the only sign that I was breathing at all.

My spine dug into the cold granite as I waited until finally the french doors opened and he stepped through. I let him venture one step and then another as he looked confused at the shower that was on but empty.

Before he could turn, I slammed into him, tackling him to the bathroom floor and pinning him under me with my claws out and ready to tear through his jugular. Amber eyes widened and with a curse he twisted away so that my claws swiped across his chest instead.

He caught my wrist as I sent it towards him again. His unwelcome touch had me hissing and snapping my teeth at him. He instantly released me and quickly said, “I have a story to tell you.”

That gave me pause and the haze in front of my eyes faded, those green eyes turning to amber and that red hair dulling into a brown.

My hand lowered but my claws stayed out as I stared down at the male beneath me.

We were both breathing heavily and as the situation defused the male seemed to fully realize then that I was naked and straddling him.

He diverted his eyes and cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Why do we keep ending up like this?” he asked more to himself than expecting an answer from me.

The water dripped from the ends of my hair onto his chest. His shirt was already soaked from where I was on top of him and because of our little scuffle from before.

“Tell me,” I demanded coldly, “tell me a secret that no one knows.” He tried to sit up, but I pushed him back down harshly. “No,” I growled, “you will stay where you are.”

I knew he could easily overpower me and throw me off, but he didn’t.

Another strange event to add to his list.

“My story is about a fox a coyote and a half-breed,” he started. “My story begins with the coyote and the fox siring a half-breed. Of course, when the coyote found out, he wanted nothing to do with the fox or the half-breed.”

My eyes bore into the liquid amber eyes below me. Already this story was pulling me in, eager to hear what other secrets were sure to be spilled. Bastard children were not looked upon fondly in our society.

“The coyote found his consort not long after the half-breed was conceived and shunned the fox and her kit as ‘mistakes’ and cast them out. The fox took her half-breed Kit with her, raising the kit in spite but not being able to also shun the kit as it was her only family even if she loathed the kit and the past she remembered every time she looked upon the half-breed. But then the fox also found her mate.”

My claws retracted entirely then. I was too tired to keep holding the pure state after the mental exhaustion I had experienced today. And since the male below me had proved to be no threat I let go of the pure state to conserve my energy.

His eyes looked at my hand for just a second at where it now lay on his chest before flicking back up to me and continuing with the story. “She immediately tossed the half-breed out of her life per command of her mate, but also of her own volition. The half-breed was now a young adolescent but could not yet fend for himself so he sought out his father, never having met the coyote and hoping that perhaps the coyote would take him in. To his luck or his misfortune—that’s for you to decide—the coyote did take in the half-breed but only because of the strength the half-breed possessed. He wanted people to know he had sired such a strong kit. So, the coyote raised the half breed along with his other pups and the half-breed grew strong, stronger than all of his brothers.”

Finally, a male around here that made sense. The coyote, or this male’s father if we skipped the metaphor, was acting like the males of our society. Using his son only as a way to boost his own image and prestige.

“The half-breed was foolish and believed that he would take over the pack rather than his legitimate brothers, never suspecting that because he was a bastard his superior strength would be overlooked.”

A grin split across my face and I leaned down onto my forearms, my elbows digging into his chest, my own stomach flat against his as I whispered above his lips, “Spill your secrets, tell me what horrible act you committed, tell me of the monster that lurks beneath your skin.”

His breathing hitched at my delighted tone. I dug my nails into him, my smile never leaving from my face as I tilted my head in an order for him to obey. Sucking in a sharp breath, the male stuttered out, “When…when the day finally came that the half-breed found out he would not be the one inheriting the pack, he…he was so enraged that he slaughtered his younger brother that was to take his place.”

I hummed in glee, taking wicked pleasure in his secret. I drummed my fingers across his collarbone. “Naughty, naughty, naughty,” I cooed.

Those amber eyes beneath me burned with a fire of their own, thrilled that I was taking such joy in his secret. “The coyote found out what the half-breed had done and threatened to expose his crime unless he gave up his claim to the pack and never claimed to be of the coyote’s blood ever again. Having no other choice besides death, the half-breed set off to claim his own pack.”

There was silence between us as I absorbed his story, savoring every juicy detail. “What a magnificent story,” I purred, brushing my finger over the seven I had carved on his face. My fingers traced up the side of his face and threaded through his feathery brown hair.

I marveled at the soft strands, forgetting what hair was supposed to feel like opposed to my coarse hair. “What is your name, Wolfie?”

The male quirked a brow. “Wolfie?”

“You are a wolf pretending to be something lesser, a coyote or a fox but you are indeed still a wolf.” I combed my fingers through his hair again, mesmerized by the texture.

“Kiro,” he breathed, “my name is Kiro.”

“Hmmmm.” I watched my hands pass through his silky strands again, confused as to why the contact did not fill me with disgust. When he had grabbed my arm, revulsion flooded through me, but when I was the one doing the touching…

Deciding to test my theory I closed the short distance of our lips and kissed the male beneath me.