A Howl In The Night - Lorelei Sutton (books to read romance .txt) 📗

against my body. I draw back in alarm as his arm brushes against my own. "I... don't believe that. Because she is right here." At first I don't hear him at all, because his voice is so low. But his deep tones are so intoxicating that he pulls me in, forcing me closer and closer until I am caught in his sticky web. 

"How would you know that?" I ask nervously, unable to turn my face away from his. His eyelids start to flutter and in shock I nearly hit his face with the back of my hand.

To my dismay, his eyes fly open and they sweep over my face and our surroundings. His gaze is powerful and authoritative, yet I sense a vulnerability about him that is somewhat endearing. 

"You're funny, Mona." He smiles tentatively, probably straining inside with the motion. "Nice joke." His acknowledgment makes me feel empty and heartless inside. He seems to have so many false expectations of me, expectations that I simply cannot fulfill.

"It... isn't a joke," I respond dubiously, suspicious of even myself. His smile disappears instantly, and his eyes roughly close, like a child that has just been told that Santa Claus isn't real. 

I check the bindings around his head to make sure they are tight and putting pressure  on his wound. Moving to shift his weight so that he is leaning against the wall, I notice the red dancing around my own arm. The bruises and blood covering my elbow are almost as bad as Griffin’s knee. I guess before I never noticed the pain when I used my left hand because the strange red-haired man consumed all of my thoughts.

"Where is this place?" He asks while trying to push himself farther up against the wall. 

"It must be hell," I comment softly to myself while examining my arm, "otherwise both of our injuries would be healed by now. It's been a good fifteen minutes since we landed in here. I think." As expected, he hears me and once again his eyes fly open.

"Surely you are kidding." His body shakes slightly.

"No. Well, yes. Partly." I lean against the side of the well and sigh. "It doesn't make too much of a difference where we are anyways."

Silence stretches between us as he thinks about who-knows-what. His hands keep curling and uncurling before his eyes, and touching the water at his side. I take this minute to examine him, trying to figure out how I know his name. Griffin is handsome, almost annoyingly so, with fiery hair and dark brown eyes. The endless chocolate pools morph into a beady black as his brow furrows in concentration.

I watch in fascination as his right hand grows fur and claws, the wrist and arm rippling with new muscle. And then, just as easily, the transformation reverses and he is back to normal. "I never imagined hell to be like this... that I would be pushed into a well with you for all eternity so we can die again and again," He mumbles, "I always thought I was at least a decent person... this must be my punishment for leaving you when you were a child. I guess it's too late now-"

"No," I correct him, the hint of a smile at my lips, "I'm pretty sure we aren't dead. This isn't really the result of a punishment, but a traffic collision." 

"But... you said it was hell!"

"I'm pretty sure this is the world I have been seeing in my visions for quite a while now. Months, actually."

"What in the name of..." He rubs his head in frustration, "the last thing I remember was Xavier and the others busting in and crashing the Sharuken ritual." 

There it is again. I must be surrounded by lunatics.

"I have no idea what you are talking about. There was no Sharuken ritual. You and those other werewolves are creeping me out," I sharply correct him, using bitterness to mask my confusion. It seems like I am the only one without these crucial memories, and I'm not sure I want to know why that is.

His frustration increases, and he rubs his head on his knees. The bandage all but falls off, and I crawl over to him to fix it. "Mona, I don't mean to be impolite..." he asks softly as I concentrate on tying the knot, "but did that old hag remove the mating mark on your stomach as well?"

"I don't have a mating mark on my stomach. Never had one," I scoff, ignoring the throbbing in my elbow. I barely notice he is moving until he catches my elbow and holds it tightly.

"Don't strain yourself," he whispers, "neither your body or your mind. The hag's ritual was probably not completed when... uh... all this happened. Your remaining memories will come back to you and your injuries will heal, all with time." I shake my arm away, but then hold it with my other arm.

"I don't remember anything about how I got us here," I begin with confusion, "but I know all of my visions of this place are exactly what I have been seeing since we arrived. The grey death that covers this place like a heavy fog is so distinct I would recognize it anywhere. I know for a fact that no humans live here, and that this place isn't on earth."  

Griffin says nothing, just staring at me as if he is trying to decipher a puzzle.

"I saw a Shifter here just lying against a tree, with no cares in the world. Without the red eyes!" I exclaim, and he nearly falls onto the wet floor.

"I've been smelling them too," he chokes, "everywhere I turn. This really must be hell, otherwise we wouldn't have landed in a Shifter's nest."

"That's it!" I grimly smile with exhaustion, "that's what this place is. A spirit world of some sort, the world of the Shifters. We've only seen them in our home, and now we get to see them in their natural habitat." 

Griffin looks exhausted now, his brain probably overwhelmed from all the information it has received. He stares at me for a few seconds, and then he slumps against the side again. This time, he stays there for quite a while. It takes me a minute to realize he has fallen asleep.

I look around the well, and then give up on thinking. I must be going crazy, otherwise I wouldn't entertain such ludicrous thoughts. A Shifter habitat? 

Might as well get some sleep myself and let this craziness leave my head.

 

* * *

 

For the first time, there is rain.

It pounds on the stone walls, swirling around the spires and turrets. It caresses the clear windows, dripping off each stone like blood. It must be God's wrath, come to us in the form of liquid terror... a symbol of worse things to come.  

He turns away, distraught from the never-ending sight of rivers pouring from above, washing the land with change. Never before has he experienced such fear, shaking through his soul with an overwhelming intensity. The old is being toppled, the regime coming to an end. But it is difficult for him to grasp—the "end".

End only exists in the relation to the beginning, omega to the alpha, and there is no beginning here. There is only the "is", the simple state of being that stretches farther than the eye can see. No one knows when it started; it just was—was, and is, and always will be.

The continuous roar of the darkening clouds as it hastens to take the land beats upon him until he can take it no more. The tsunami of fate is gathering, preparing a tidal wave that will deliver the final blow, wreaking eternal havoc in the process. It is impossible to accept that the is could become the was, that the continuum could be disrupted. 

At the very least, he cannot sit and watch as the destruction envelops this world. He tries to remember that he isn't powerless. He can control the destruction, wield it to his liking. This isn't something that is impossible to avoid.

If only they could find them. For this... this would make all the difference.

 

The last grains of sand trickle down the glass walls and tumble towards certain death.

 

* * *

 

The first thing I hear is a horrific scream, cutting through the air and fog with an intensity that swallows the silence, only leaving the nameless dread in my heart.

"Mona!" Someone is by my side, shaking my shoulders. My hands shake, nails digging into my attacker's body. A deep, strangled noise brings me to full consciousness, and my eyes fly open.

"Griffin?" As the figure before me comes into focus, I remember my circumstances and release my grip. A strange wheezing noise follows, and the red-head clutches his throat. "What happened?" I ask, alarmed. He doesn't answer immediately, still gasping a little bit before removing his hands from his neck.

"Well, all I know is that one minute I am asleep, the next you are screaming your head off and trying to strangle me," He mutters, shaking his hands. "I will say, you have a pretty good grip."

"I'm sorry." I stare at him, then at my own hands. "I don't know what came over me." So, that was my scream.

"Well, good thing you got out of it before you killed me," Griffin laughs, a dry, hoarse sound that shocks me. He notices as well, and gathers some water in his hand. As the liquid trickles into his mouth, I start to recall the vivid pictures that had been dancing throughout my head.

"I had a very vivid dream," I start talking, mainly to myself. "But even though it was so crystal clear at the time, now I can hardly make sense of anything. I think it had to do with where we are, and what we are supposed to do now that we are here." I twist in my position. "I think it had something to do with rain."

There is silence for a while, Griffin scrubbing his shoe and I raking through fractured memories.

"I wish I had dreams like that," he finally says, "I only dream about sheep and bunny rabbits and flowers. Or nothing at all." Griffin tilts his head towards the sky, and I do the same. The sky is near impossible to see with the fog lying just above the well, but there is a strange beauty in it—watching the mist swirl around the round opening, as if performing a dance just for us. 

"I wonder if they will ever find us," I murmur absently while counting the bricks lining the top of the well.

Griffin turns his head to stare at me. "They?" He probes, and I look back at him.

"Yeah, you know... Yi, Danae, Xavier... I was escaping from them when I bumped into you," I explain, "I wonder if they would even look." The mist seems to intensify as I speak, almost opaque in appearance. I doubt anyone would be able to spot the well from here, and we can't make any signals because we are about twenty-five feet from the surface. 

"Why in the world would you try to escape?" He asks in alarm. Instantly my mind flashes to past events, and I mentally slap myself in the face. It wasn't very strategic to flee from them, now that I look back in hindsight; I think what most propelled me to do so in the first place was Xavier and the discomfort his presence made me feel. 

"I'm not sure," I avoid Griffin's piercing gaze, "I think the most important reason why is because I like it better when I am alone."

I try to ignore the trembles that are erupting deep within my heart.

"Mona," He says softly, "Xavier will always come and look for you. I mean, he broke into Headquarters like a mad man to stop the ritual." Frustration sizzles between us, reverberating around the well.

"What the crap is the Sharuken ritual?!" I bark, tired once and for all of hearing this nonsense. "Why am I the one being left out