Page 15 of Dead Wolf Walking (Bad Moon Academy 1)
His dark hair falls into his eyes, and he leaves the messy locks, not bothering to brush them out of the way. “I wouldn’t dare, Little Red.”
Ignoring the stupid nickname, I move past him, brushing against the wall to keep from even coming close to touching him. The stairs continue down, passing another level before they take me to the first floor. I haven’t seen anyone else, which is odd in itself, but I’m not going to complain when I’ve clearly been given a gift from God.
The large maple door with a rectangle of stained glass is all that stands between me and my freedom. Well, me and a wall which leads to my freedom. I tap the knob, half expecting it to burn me, then clutch it and give one last glance over my shoulder. Shafts of dust spiral through the air, made visible by the big windows lining the entryway.
The house seems to quiet under my speculation. I shiver, twist the knob, and wrench the door open. Cool fingers brush against the back of my neck, making me squeak. I rush outside and spin, raising my fists to hit whoever is trying to mess with me.
No one is there.
I glare at the open air and shake my head.
Think about it later. Get out of here first.
The voice which was once inside my head is oddly quiet, and I find it unsettling that she hasn’t spoken up to tell me to stop or call me a fool. Then again, this might be a twisted dream I have yet to wake from. My nightmares are always wildly unpredictable.
I don’t even notice I’m not wearing shoes until the gravel digs into my bare skin. I hiss and hop over to the plush grass, continuously shooting my gaze around. Carter was adamant about me not being able to leave, but it seems he’s the only one who feels that way.
If I were really not allowed to flee, wouldn’t there be guards to stop me?
The gate is still about a mile away, so I jog, ignoring the small cuts I get along the way. My feet will recover. Aunt Lou will help me take care of the injuries. I’ll be fine as long as I get out of here. The wrought iron is split down the middle, held together by a simple lock. No chains. No padlock.
I chew on the inside of my cheek. This seems too easy. Surely they wouldn’t go to all this trouble to bring me here only to let me waltz out. I reach for the bars, wrapping my fingers around one while I use the other to work the lock open. A low vibration jumps from the bar into my palm, stinging me like a wasp.
“Ouch.” I try to pull my hand free, only, it’s stuck. Something like glue holds me hostage as the stinging intensifies. I slap my free hand on my wrist, tugging on it. Still nothing.
The pain is getting harder to bear, and I scream when something stabs into my palm. Blood trickles down my arm.
“Oh, hell no, this is someAmerican Horror Storyshit.” I set my foot right below my stuck hand and push with all my might, groaning when all I manage to do is strain my shoulder and get rocks stuck into the bottom of my other foot. “Let me go!”
“It’s no use,” Draco says from behind me.
I glance at him, biting my tongue to keep from screaming when something stabs me again. Once the pain subsides, I suck in a breath. “Don’t just stand there.”
He tips his head and puckers his lips to the side. “Hmm. If you want to ask for help, you need to use your big girl words.”
Another sharp bite of agony makes my heart skip, and I can’t talk for a full minute. I whine and try to tug my arm back, but it’s quickly becoming apparent I won’t be able to get out of this on my own.
My arm and the gravel are coated in blood. “Help me, Draco, you bastard.”
With a sniff, he brushes his hair from his eyes. “There’s no need for name calling, all you had to do was ask.”
I glare at him while he struts over in his dark jeans, black leather boots, and a loose-fitting V-neck. He really shouldn’t be so attractive. Why are the worst ones always the hottest?
His skin is warm against mine, and he peels my hand from the bar without issue. “You’re covered in blood.”
“What the hell was that?” I ask as he lifts my hand to get a closer look. His grip is firm and I can’t pull away.
“Pack magic prevents unauthorized people from leaving. You haven’t been granted permission to leave.” He runs a finger over one of the cuts on my palm.
I hiss. “The whole stabbing part seems a bit extreme.”
He hums and sniffs my palm. “This won’t do.” Slipping his tongue past his lips, he licks my hand.
“Hey, gross. Don’t.” I try to yank away again, but his hold tightens.
Lifting his gaze to meet mine, he hovers his mouth above my skin. “Would you rather the vampires smell your blood and come for you?”
Vampires?
