Mates of a Werewolf Hunter

Chapter 21 Fear

Valentine Winters P.O.V

I collapsed under the weight of the monstrous wolf, its hot breath reeking of blood and aggression. Desperation surged within me as it lunged, jaws snapping with an insatiable hunger for my demise.

My hands pressed frantically against its neck, a desperate attempt to fend off the gnashing jaws aiming for my face. Growls reverberated, and strings of saliva sprayed across my face, prompting a visceral reaction of disgust.

Despite my resistance, one of its massive paws crashed into my stomach, the force sending waves of pain through my body. Clutching my aching midsection, I pushed the beast away, creating a momentary reprieve.

Yet, the relentless assault continued.

The wolf, undeterred, charged at me once more. Before I could regain my footing, it collided with me, propelling me towards the unforgiving silver bars. Gasping for air, I crumpled to the ground, my back throbbing with agony.

Kneeling and groaning, I faced another onslaught. The beast, driven by primal instinct, sought to sink its teeth into me again. Summoning all the strength I could muster, I swung my fist, a sickening crack echoing through the air as it connected with the wolf's snout.

It whimpered, but not without retaliation. My knuckles bore the brunt of its razor-sharp teeth, blood mixing with its own. I recoiled, the pain intensifying as my elbow collided with the unyielding silver bars.

The wolf, undeterred, lunged once more, this time sinking its claws into my thighs. The searing pain immobilized me, and I cried out in anguish. The metallic scent of blood filled the air, both mine and the beast's.

Trapped against the silver bars, weakness enveloped me. Trembling with fear, sweat drenched my trembling form. Alone and pleading for salvation, I felt the life force drain from me, each heartbeat growing fainter.

As black spots danced in my vision, a harrowing realization struck – I was teetering on the precipice of death, a lonely battle against an unrelenting foe.

As I lay there, broken and defeated, the metallic echoes of the opening doors reverberated through the air, punctuated by the chilling report of a gunshot. The acrid scent of gunpowder mingled with the tang of fear and desperation that clung to me.

My tear-blurred vision struggled to make sense of the scene, but before I could gather my wits, a massive weight crashed onto me. It wasn't just the weight of my own despair; it was tangible, living, and ferocious. The rogue wolf, its fur matted with the blood of its victims, had descended upon me like a vengeful wraith.

The impact was bone-crushing, stealing what little breath I had left for the second time. The world spun, and as the wolf's hot breath brushed against my face, I was enveloped in a surreal darkness, a realm of oblivion that swallowed me whole.

Lucifer Argent P.O.V

I lied her down in the tub.

She was bloody, and there was no way I was letting her stain my bed. How dare she slap me? My anger was beyond anything I'd felt before; scratch that, I was infuriated. Rational thought eluded me in that moment.

She looked terrible – no offense. The aid box was fetched, and I treated her wounds, though deep down, I knew she wouldn't need them. Werewolves heal fast, but still, she looked awful.

As I cleaned her up, a peculiar mix of resentment and concern played in the background of my mind. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Maybe it was the audacity of that slap or the unexpected vulnerability in her battered state.

In a move that felt both vengeful and protective, I put my clothes on her. It was a silent statement – a reminder that, in this moment, she was at my mercy.

Bridal style, I carried her back to my bed. The clash of emotions continued as I laid her down. She'd wake up in a few minutes, and the enigmatic dance between resentment and an unsettling sense of responsibility would resume.

Valentine Winters P.O.V

The haunting echoes of the nightmare still clung to my senses as I jolted awake, gasping for air, my hand instinctively reaching for my neck. The phantom pain of the rogue wolf's attack lingered, a vivid memory that sliced through the thin veil of dreams.

"About time you woke up," came a voice, cutting through the remnants of the nightmare. Lucifer's voice. I snapped my head in his direction, disoriented and trying to make sense of my surroundings.

His bed. I was on his bed. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks, and an unsettling mix of anger and vulnerability bubbled within me. He was the reason for my torment, both in the dream and the waking world.

As he approached, I felt a surge of panic, the fear of him seizing me. I leaped out of the bed, putting distance between us. "Please don't hurt me," I whimpered, my voice trembling with a vulnerability I never thought I'd expose.

Confusion flickered across Lucifer's face, a momentary lapse in his usually composed demeanor. I didn't understand why, but I knew one thing – I was scared of him. The fear was a palpable force, binding me like an invisible chain.

He took a step toward me, and I stumbled backward, desperation pushing me against the cold, unyielding wall. "Please," I pleaded, my wide eyes locked onto his.

"What are you scared of?" he asked, a genuine curiosity in his tone that clashed with the aura of dominance he usually exuded.

"You," I whispered, the admission hanging in the air like an unspoken truth. Every fiber of my being trembled with terror, the fear of the unknown, the fear of him – a complex mix of emotions that danced on the thin line between hatred and something far more profound.

Sorry it's short and for the long wait, I'll try to make it longer on the next chappie.

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- Valentine Winters