Him [ A Werewolf Tale ]

When I was 13 years old, my entire family committed suicide, by driving full speed off a thirty foot bridge. Morbid, I know. Unfortunately, they deemed themselves unfit to live and ended it the only way they knew how. They had gotten themselves stuck in something deep and dark with a couple of the demons around our neighborhood and their contract was coming due. So at the age of only 13, I was left to fend myself and survive in a world full of vampires, werewolves, and demons. ~ My name is Claire Summers and my family had once ran one of the most powerful werewolf packs in North America. That is, however, only because of a contract held by a certain grey eyed demon. Since my parents died, I have been shunned. Disowned by everyone and unwanted in every sense. For the first time in my life I was completely and utterly alone. Until I met him


5. Chapter 3 | Alexander Westwood

Chapter 3 

“The Alpha will see you now.” a monotonous voice booms throughout the prison.

I shoot up from my position, where I was curled up on the floor. The tears had long since dried up on my cheeks and I have accepted that I would die. In fact, I welcomed it. I never wanted to live like this. I always hoped my life would get better after I escaped. There were many times throughout my life that I have wished to die. Every time, my wolf would wash away the thought and give me hope. I was grateful for that, but that doesn’t matter anymore. Red Stone pack seems like an ant compared to Westwood. Red Stone was violent, Westwood is deadly. There wasn’t anyway I was going to escape this. I would be tortured. I would be raped. I would be bathed in silver and most importantly, I would be murdered. My wolf couldn’t protect me against these people. She wasn’t strong enough. I wasn’t strong enough and I’m okay with that.

“Get up!” the voice barks.

I spring to my feet, ignoring the dull ache in my muscles. Swallowing hard, I look up at the cell entrance. The man from earlier is standing there.

“Come here.” he growls.

Gritting my teeth, I look at him refusing to move. The man has dark brown hair and light blue eyes, similar to mine. He has a defined jawline and a muscular body. Squinting my eyes, I scrutinize his face and find nothing. No emotion. His eyes are cold and deserted.

Defying him was a mistake.  Before I can even blink, he is inside my cell with my body pressed against the wall. A knife is pressing into the tender flesh of my neck.

“You don’t want to make the Alpha wait, little girl. Alpha Westwood is not a patient person. In fact, he loves ripping those who defy him limb from limb. He can hurt you twice as much as I can. Would you like to experience that?” the man growls, pressing the knife closer into my flesh.

Struggling to breath with the knife pressed into my neck, I gasp trying to apologize. Rolling his eyes, he removes the pressure from my throat.

“I-I’m s-sorry.” I sputter out, clutching onto my neck.

“Thought so. Come.” the man orders, turning and walking out of the cell.

I know that if I resist him, he will hurt me. I know that if I run, he will find me. And I know that if I fight, he will kill me. The last ounce of hope in my body is quickly draining as I step out of the cell. The guard's hand in immediately latched around my elbow.

Swallowing down the panic that has risen in my throat, I succumb to my thoughts.

Alpha Westwood. The man that everyone fears, but everyone wants to become. He kills for fun. Attacking packs at random was his hobby. He loved torture and he lived for murder. He was the epitome of horror. He killed anyone who got in his way - Women, children, men, the elderly - it didn’t matter who they were or what their title was. The most horrible thing about him, however, is that he likes it bloody. When he murders someone he doesn’t just snap their neck, he rips them to shreds.

“Walk faster.” the guard snaps, yanking my arm harder.

Speeding up my current pace, I join in step with him. My chest is constricting and the muscles in my legs spasming. Panic overcame me as my breathing sped up. Clamping my eyes shut, I let him lead the way, as I try to calm my raging emotions. Breathing deeply, I will myself to let go and stop thinking.

Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.

Maybe he isn’t as bad as they make him out to be.

I haven’t even seen him kill anyone, so how do I know that he has?

‘Claire, you and I both know that he has killed people. Packs don’t just randomly blow up.’ my wolf whispers in my head.

‘You used to give me hope. You used to try to protect me from these thoughts. Now, you want to bring me down and make me hopeless.’ I growl back, shaking my head.

I am sorry Claire, but I have given up. Our mate is still out there somewhere, but as many people have told us before, he will be better off without us.’ she says.

Frowning, I drown out the yapping voice of my wolf. She has given up. I have given up. We were done for and even my wolf could see that now. She has always been there for me. To talk me down, to make me feel safe, to give me hope, but now she herself has quit. If my wolf didn’t want to live, I wouldn’t. It’s just that simple.

On the walk to meet the Alpha, I take a moment to admire my surroundings. When I think of Westwood, I think of blood, destruction, and death. I would never have thought that their pack was this beautiful. From the bright green shrubbery to the massive oak trees, the pack was stunning. The pack houses were as big as mansions, with sport cars parked outside of every house. That was the beauty of being in a pack like this, every pack mate was wealthy. Approaching the biggest house of them all, my eyes widen. The Alpha’s house can only be described as a small hotel. Their must of been at least 5 floors and an uncountable amount of rooms.

Pulling me up the front steps and through the entrance, the guard shuts the door behind us with a grunt.

“Follow me.” he snaps, walking towards the stairs.

After hesitating for only a millisecond, I follow after him wringing my hands together in front of me. With his long strides, I have to nearly run up the stairs and take two at a time to keep in step with the guard. Once we reach the top of the stairs, we take a sharp turn down a hallway decorated in paintings. Scanning my eyes down the hall, I realize the paintings are of all the past Alphas. At the end of the hallway, lands the largest painting. The painting of Alexander Westwood.

The air stills in my lungs as I stare in awe of the painting. His shaggy dark brown hair is swept up with gel, taking the form of a quiff. His dark brown eyes stare directly into your soul and his tiny bit of scruff adds a touch of manliness. There is no doubt that the man is fit and muscular. He has plump pink lips that make you wish to pull them between your teeth. 

'What are you doing, Claire?' I think to myself. 

‘How can a murderer be so beautiful?’ my wolf mumbles.

‘Shut up! How could you say something like that?!’ I snap, feeling my annoyance grow.

‘Admit it, Claire. You think he’s attractive.’ she sneers.

‘He is evil. Evil is never attractive.’ I growl, cutting off the mind link between my wolf and I.

The guard in front of me walks to the end of the hall to a large door, right beside the painting, and swiftly turns towards me. A gasp leaves my lips as he is suddenly inches away from my face.

“Stay here. You move. I hunt you down. Understand?” he demands.

Nervously I shake my head and he turns around without another word, and enters the room.

“Alpha.” I hear from behind the door.

“What?” a gruff voice growls.

“I have brought you the rogue.” the guard says, politely.

“I don’t care. Kill them.” he huffs.

A gasp leaves my lips and I back myself into the wall.

“But, sir, it’s...a girl.” the guard informs hesitantly.

A loud sigh leaves the Alpha’s lips.

“Fine. Bring her in. Then, kill her.” he growls.

Immediately, the door opens and the guard storms through. Harshly latching his hand into my wrist, he tugs me away from the wall and into the room. My eyes are glued to the ground, showing my submission. Heat stings my cheeks as I enter the room and an intoxicating smell reaches my nose. It smells like pine trees and fresh air. A wonderful combination.

“Look up at me.” the Alpha orders.

Keeping my eyes glued to the floor, I clamp down on my lip harshly.

“Don’t test my patience, sweetheart. I don’t do well with defiance.” he spits out.

I keep my eyes down, hoping that he will realize that I am submitting to him. I did not want to show him my fear. He would feed off of it.

“I could kill you.” he grunts, stepping closer to me.

Clamping my eyes shut, an involuntary whimper leaves my lips.

“Shoot her.” he says, simply.

A gasp leaves my lips again, but I still refuse to look up. My shrill scream echoed around the room, as the gun is fired and a bullet is lodged into my foot. I collapse in a heap on the floor and let out cry after cry of pain. Bringing my foot closer to my body, I can feel unending tears streaming down my face.

“Now,” the Alpha whispers, as he lowers himself to a crouch beside me, “Look at me or you lose your other foot.”

With a whimper of pain, I raise my eyes to his cold, lifeless ones and electricity fills my body. The pain in my foot nearly disappears at the warmth I feel and his eyes change from deep brown to silver.

Smiling wickedly he growls, “Mate.”

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...