Chapter 1- Ultra Silvam. (Beyond the Forest)

   There's a thrumming about tonight in pack's territory castle, as everyone anxiously awaits the upcoming spectacle. For some, it's like a pastime of bickering lovers. Whilst for others—a bothering nuisance needing to be put down once and for all.

   Like statues: emotionless and stone stiff, one guard is stationed to my right and another—my left. Eyes forward, arms behind back, legs apart, clad in all black and silver. They Remind me of crows, the ones you'd find perching along rails and branches. Except for these crows, their branches are my hips.

   Becoming now a standard, I'm always brought to the donjon: their over ground and inner keep above their second sanctuary once detained. It's a stronghold of a tower, built specifically for withstanding any attack on the castle. With melted silver and monkshood laced between the blocked cobblestones—making its spherical form appear more dominating. What's even more interesting and strange is that the monkshood and silver aren't affecting them in the manner that it should: with a severe sensibility to its smell and the weakening of bones. Almost like an immunity, it's mind-boggling especially with what they are.

   Nevertheless, the donjon wasn't your usual medieval donjon directly centred at the heart of the castle. It didn't house bed-chambers or garderobes, nor was it an actual donjon turned into a dungeon to lay host for prisoners. No...it was their passageway, leading straight to the tombs.

   From what I could assess, it ranged from three to four storeys in height, housing thick iron windows set between the walls as well as one grand masonry of a spiral stairway; columned in the middle from the ground floor down.

   Beyond its peculiar build was the castle. Built on top of a hill, its deep incline overlooked all of Hollow's Bay. Situated towards the farthest right of the castle was the donjon; where each storey had an archway, spanning over a small moat that opened into something resembling of a parapet walk, leading them further beyond the forest.

   The ground floor, which should have been situated on the actual ground itself was on the highest level and held the largest parapet walk. Looking almost like a drawbridge, one would think that this part of the castle should have been the front, whilst the front—its back. At the moment, it's vacated. But even I know that walls have eyes and ears.

   On every occasion, I'm escorted here by the guards. Never the warriors. Like extra skin, thickened—the warriors are bound to him and him only; no doubt willing to kill if his thoughts were ever of such. All he must do is think it and without hesitation...they'll do it.

   "There's a reason as to why they're called Command Warriors girl," he'd once stated after my second attempt at freedom was unsuccessful. "So, if somehow you managed to 'escape' again and say I decide not to send guards after you but them—them as in the Command Warriors, and my thoughts are of nothing more than to have your head...then to have your head they'll want, silly girl.

"It won't be reversed!" He'd all but barked it out. "The first order they'll always obey. Nothing after will overthrow it. I can be jesting with them and they'll still respond to it. And do you wish to know why?" He'd said more than asked. "Because an order is an order. No matter the form it's issued in!" In other words, 'till death do them part' and, unfortunately for me, La-he won't be dying anytime soon and relieving them of command. However, it's come to pass that I too can command them if only I—

   Suddenly, I'm pulled out of my reverie by a blast of a sound. Like that of castle doors being ripped off its hinges and exploding into smithereens. Something else is heard shattering soon after. Glass or a vase maybe, before a loud thud and then another and another following along. It didn't sound like anything human had created those noises, for I could've sworn that a part of the donjon had vibrated.

   "WHERE IS SHE?!" The words were blown throughout the old castle walls like that of a raging thunderstorm. Given that—he did have all rights in being angry from his point of view though—I daresay the dramatics are necessary. He had, after all, told me our previous discussion a fortnight to "leave, if that's what your heart truly desires Jaxsa... It'll matter nought to me anymore. I won't try and stop you."

   Perhaps a certain someone has a knack for telling tales—or bluffing even? Because clearly, it does matter, for—why else would he have taken me? Or claim me as something I believe I'm not? And why keep me hidden away beneath the ground whenever I'd try an attempt at freedom?

   Then it happened. No sound nor movement to alert me. One moment my crows and I confiscated the donjon and in the next, a naked him is standing metres from me. I was right. It wasn't anything human that tore through the castle...it was the Wolfskin.

   "It's finally good of you to grace us with your presence, darling Wolfskin. Honestly, with such impressive qualities to which you possess, your arrival dear had been expected much sooner." It's direct and to the point, no use of being polite. "Neither did I expect such theatrics from you because...well...with what we'd last discuss you see."

   "Leave us," he ordered the crows without so much as looking at them.

   Have I mentioned just how much I hate looking upon his person? And worse—he's naked. His eyes aren't upon me, so I can take my chance looking at him leisurely; maybe even without prejudice.

   Tall with long legs and arms, his body was not the epitome of perfection. Expanses of skin, painted on a broad, muscled frame lost its smooth, sleek surface to the deep yet—delicately etched recessed lines. Swimming across a faintly dusted chest of hair, and trailing onto his back, were lightly scattered lacerated criss-cross marks. But the sleeping beauty of them all rests proudly on his right thigh. Someone or—something, took a very huge chunk out of him. I'm guessing the healthy whole recovery bypassed him. Whoever or—whatever it was that did that, their intent was to maim...permanently.

   He's not what the old tongue would dame as 'classically handsome' , but—neither is he ugly. Mahogany hair like that of timber from a tree framed his broad forehead and square jaw. A long narrow nose juts his face as tiny flecks of freckles lay peppered (I'm assuming) from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes. Though, his mouth, I admit had me for the first time ever wanting to do unspeakable things with it. Especially to that particular freckle that sits atop the border right on Cupid's bow.

   "Have you looked your fill yet?" he whispered, a hint of a smile teasing the corner of his lips, taking me by surprise. Though not for long. Because it's gone as quickly as it came.

   "Take a picture. Or, if you'd like, I can call upon an artist from the village town and have them paint you a portrait." It's not a question, for I can tell when he's jesting. Again, he's been nothing but full of surprises lately as the jar is ever so slowly over tipping.

   "Well, I was trying to be discreet, but forgive me for finally thinking that you're deserving of such 'polite attention', Wolfskin," I replied snidely. But at the same time, there's no reaction from him. No sound or movement. Looking off into the forest through the archway, eyes closed and seeming dazed, it's almost as though he's being hypnotized by it. Or—perhaps something is delving in there, serenading him?

   "Come; walk with me for a bit," he said, eyes still closed before climbing the first steps through the archway that leads onto the walk. The bastard is so sure of himself in knowing I'd follow that he doesn't bother to look back. Sighing for what seems like the umpteenth time since I've been here, I traipsed the few steps it takes me onto the walk before—'following the leader'.

   I was right yet again. It is a drawbridge but—it's also a parapet walk. They've combined the two so masterfully that upon first impression, one can surely be manipulated into thinking that it's either. It took me one year and that of a half before finally noticing a difference here and a difference there...my fourth attempt at freedom—they had yet to blindfold me.

   Just as the donjon, the platform doesn't consist of wood but—cobblestones filled with silver and monkshood. Neither is one part solely hinged to the castle wall. In fact, one part is hinged to the castle wall but—the other end is embedded into the ground with silver chains attached to either side. Silver is a very strong component however, I doubt that it can raise such a platform. I look to La-him for any signs of discomfort and there's nothing. He forges onward.

   Below us the moat lays a slumber, with the moon's reflection piercing into it. And like a gale: kicking and screaming, the wind is without so much a care in the world for whom it slaps its wretched anger on.

   Stopping at the end of the walk-bridge that meets the edge of the forest was a sight to behold; a vast mélange of trees towering in clouds of green. Moving rhythmically in the flurry of air, their powerful limbs were obscured by a light mist, casting their figures into menacing shades.

   On the other side, sitting mindlessly right next to it—is Hollow's Bay. Indeed, mindless of the many beasts that find shelter within, of what's beyond it, and of the many beasts that sits atop this very hill...Or are they?

   "Tonight, we encountered a douen pack on our way back to the castle," La-he casually tells me, as though such casualness is a custom between us. Still, without a stitch of clothing, I'm learning that he's just as comfortable naked—as he is fully dressed.

   "They're dead. Every last one of them," he said, voice maintaining that same casual tone, his gaze cool. "A bovine slaughter...And I enjoyed it."

   All the while, I remained mum; because it's a rarity to hear him speak this way. And though I cared not for the reason as to why it is he's choosing to tell me, I bite my tongue by assuming interest.

   "Oh?" is all I can muster.

   "As I let loose the tails onto one, and watched how it coiled gracefully around the body and then the neck—a thrilling sensation took hold of me. I've never held much respect for anything, nor have I ever sought too but—this particular douen amazed me beyond wanting to cease," he paused, glancing in my direction. Immediately, I look the other way. However, I'm not quick enough to miss the half-smirk on his face. "It had shrunk considerably in size; succumbing to the rabidity so that it may grow to its full potential. Evidently, it still bore traits to that of a Lycan Wolfskin when coming to height and size. And, despite reeking worse than death's decay," turning around, he murmured, "there was this sort of steel like determination it had in its eyes.

   "My guess is that, it had wanted to go quietly. Or perhaps —it was bravery that I saw? To show how it was not willing to concede the kind of death that I wanted to see him accept. As in, do what is expected of them without grievance...

   "At the same time, thoughts of you filtered my mind. How—you refuse to accept the inevitable. How—you're always fighting me and always thinking that you're owed something. Freedom... perhaps?" he commented with a mocking smile.

   The verbal fascination to which his voice held prickled the bundle of nerves beneath my skin; sluicing at me like that of ice-cold showers. Feeling myself quiver from a torrent of unidentified emotions, I managed to swallow them down.

   "Then, I released the spikes; so that it may cushion deeply into its body. Unable to remain mum much longer, its gut wretched the air in an agonizing wail. Moreover, that—pleasurable thrill I first felt had doused the others and together—we blended into the night with its pain.

"Before taking its last breath, I then watched what little there was left of hair retreat and skin like worn-out leather dissipate. Its colour at that moment changed drastically from green slate to that of golden brown; almost bronze like yours. And then it... became a he."

   The feeling of his hand touching my skin has me at a startle. Much the same as an infection, it's strike three as he soils me yet again with his bacteria. Beginning to recognize one of the unidentified emotions as anger, he knows well enough that touching me without permission would stoke it. But of course, he sees himself as the exception.

   "Your skin is ghastly cold," he whispered, whilst rubbing his palm slowly over my forearm. Begrudgingly, the heat from his hand is welcomed.

   "What a well-behaved little dog you are," I commented sardonically. "Like many, when wanting more attention from their masters they become extra affectionate...clingy even. However, with you—I am almost certain that if you'd had a tail...it would've been wagging indefinitely." A quick pause from his hand had the corners of my lips twitching in amusement.

   "Generally speaking," he continued as though I hadn't just slighted him. "I should have felt like a bastard seeing as how he was still very much in his youth but—the tenacity from that youth had elicited a newly found respect," he confessed.

   "And as that iron grip of his began to wane, realization dawned that—either way, the result would've been the same; him sub-relenting." Several attempts to jerk my arm from his hold was unsuccessful as the firm pressure of his fingers ensured that I couldn't.

   "You see that, youth taught me quite a few things tonight. One—being that patience, truly is a virtue. After all, I was willing to lose mine because I found that dou-youth unrelenting; condemning him that is...

"Now, we can say that I was still condemning him to a partial extent even when he'd finally given in to what was customary but—" A finger from the hand that had been massaging my arm is placed firmly beneath my chin, forcing our eyes to meet.

   Unbelievable.

   Is it possible for eyes the colour of pitch black to appear blacker? Deadlier even? Whereas, the midnight sky still shone with life, his eyes, despite the Moon's glare upon them, reflected a lifeless soul. I couldn't move, for they held me captive; pinning me to the ground like bolts. At a loss for words, I neither saw that of his Wolfskin or the bottomless chasm he usually dawned.

   What I saw...was unrecognizable.

   The sound of fingers snapping persistently pulled me out of those things he has for eyes as his grip on my chin tightened. "Focus Jaxsa," he began, " for what I am about to say is crucial and I need all of you here...competent."

   "You bas—"

   "I no longer saw the tails coiled around the youth's body," he continued evenly. "Instead, what I saw was the unmistakable buxom silhouette of yours; a fox, struggling in a snare." Leaning closer to my face, he softened his voice before murmuring against my lips, "you had nowhere to go.

"It also taught me that—eventually we get rewarded for having patience. 'To—wait a little bit longer I must'. I told myself that this would be my new mantra. Because for two years, Jaxsa. Two years, I have been waiting for you. So, what is another two...maybe more?" he said, regarding me with a contemplative eye. "I've waited centuries for you, pet. Though, I fathom that it may be a tad bit burdensome for you to hold out that long, yes?"

   Helpless from the stench of my sweat secreting the air, I felt every bit like a fox having been caught in a snare. Fingers tightening some more, his grip became excruciatingly painful as his nostrils flared in disgust. "You would rather fear me than respect me," he stated, watching me intently. Our last encounter neither of us had accepted defeat. However, tonight...tonight he knows the kind of impact he's having on me. "Well, it's a start. So I'll take what I can get for now," he said, releasing my chin.

   "Do you see over there." He pointed with his right hand to a part of the forest I had not noticed where smoke was filtering up into the sky. "We set their bodies ablaze; reducing them to bone fragments now rooted to the soil. But rest assured my pet; I didn't let my imagination run for long."

   Finally, I see his attention move to something behind me; the crows from earlier have re-appeared. Again: one stationed to my right, the other—my left; awaiting orders like the bloody dogs they are. Were they with us all along? And if so, had they witnessed the exchange between La-he and me?

   "Oh, and Jaxsa—" already he's halfway onto the walk looking back at me. "You are right. We are savages. And a savage such as myself can never willingly forfeit ownership of its property. How naïve of you girl. Don't you know it's in the hunt? That which drives us more to chase. You throw a dog a bone dear and he misses the catch—then it'll only be in its nature to want to fetch it...

"Because if you think that by avoiding my presence and ignoring all those around you is your way in showing to us that we're not worth acknowledging then—Jaxsa darling...you have, much to learn. So much."

   By this time, all thoughts of irrationality escaped as everything he'd said finally became clear. Closing my hands into a fist, I glared in his direction; wanting so badly for him to feel what I've been feeling. The absence of sleep. The constant nightmares gnawing at my skin. And at every turn, I find myself the object of ridicule. He's mad if he expects that one day I'll accept their ways and customs with open arms?!

   I was taken! AGAINST MY WILL! Such things cannot be forgiven and then forgotten! How is any of it okay?

"Dammit. Why do you insist on thinking that such an injustice has been done!" he snapped.

   On the one hand, I hadn't meant to let my thoughts escape my mouth and on the other hand—a throng of words was at the tip of my tongue, ready for the firing. However, now is not the time to anger him more with my words. After all, every intelligent opponent knows when to play their trump card.

   "Forgive me...Lane," I said, hesitantly. Letting his name graze past my lips felt strenuous...and foreign. It isn't often that it's said, and the last time I'd said it—I hadn't gauged his reaction. This time though, I'm able to see through the curtain of hair falling loosely about his face. Thick dark brows furrowed deeply over lips that were slightly parted from faint surprise. However, as is the norm, nothing ever reached his eyes.

   "I am unsure as to what game you're playing here Jaxsa so I'll be frank." Quickly he's in front of me again. "The next time and—there will be a next time Jaxsa because, let's face it—it's of your nature; you can't resist," he said, enthusiasm trickling through in the tone of his voice. "Hands shall be placed onto you." Nodding once again to the crows, it's seconds before I'm blindfolded: obscuring me from those dead man eyes and cold vacant countenance. I don't have to view his person to know what words are next to tumble from his mouth.

   "Take her to the tombs."

FIRST CHAPPIE UP! ENJOY!! SO A LITTLE SIDE NOTE, I'LL BE EDITING WHENEVER I GET A CHANCE YEAH?