Capture (Book 1 in the Wolfen Brethren Series)

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This has been edited but there may still be mistakes.

Sitting at the dinner table was a trial in itself. It took all Neema had not to snap at everybody.

She not only had to put up with sitting next to an overly repentant and apologetic Khan but she also had to refrain herself from climbing over the table and knocking Leslie out. The female had somehow found her way further up the dinner table as if she belonged near her, near Khan. Her scrawny arms latched onto Ryan as she made sultry eyes at Khan, her voluptuous lips pouting in his direction. He was not paying her any attention but the fact that the deformed duck had the audacity to sit among them and make sultry eyes at her current mate, was infuriating. Neema did not want him but she was not about to give him to the devil with the red hair.

Trying to contain her bloodthirsty ideas and pretending to be happy was virtually impossible. She was spreading herself too thin, she could not stop herself from seeing red and by the end of the night she was sure one of them was bound to be dead or at least cut open a bit. The fake smile on her face looked more like a snarl than anything else if she were to go by the people's reactions. Eyes cast downwards every time they caught her deranged look which only caused her frustration to grow. Her right eye was continuously twitching as she tried to fight her urges.

Khan's quiet pleading looks in her direction were only riling her more. Though he said nothing and appeared to be the stoic Khan of usual, Neema could not miss the way he angled his body towards hers as if he wanted to be nearer. Or the way his hazel eyes rimmed with moisture kept flickering over to her. He looked pensive as his jaw ticked in frustration.

If he became anymore annoying she was going to have to request to change seats and then everyone would know something was wrong but she was tired of pretending. This whole mating had been a farce, from the beginning she had publically pretended to care for him while behind closed doors they had been taking knives and claws to each others skins. And now this, was she supposed to pretend through this. Pretend she could stomach the idea of her male giving life to another child while she was nesting her own life.

She wanted to call it quits but she could not let Leslie know she had won and so she pretended that the male beside her was someone she cared for. Even when all she cared for was a taste of his blood.

"Stop" she gritted out as she maintained the widest and most plastic smile on her face. His hand reached out and grabbed hers under the table, his calloused fingers squeezing hers as he whispered in her ears, "Neema, let me explain."

Her left eye was twitching now. She could feel them both moving in synchronisation, when one started the other one stopped until she looked as deformed as the ugly duckling with the sour face across the table. This dinner was a make or break situation and if these two continued to aggravate her she was going to break and make it someone's last supper.

She brushed his hands and words off, her nails biting into his skin and drawing that liquid ambrosia that left a metallic tint to the air. This place had changed her into one of them, she craved to draw the blood of any one who did her wrong. It was not her way but it was swiftly becoming so.

Placing her hands demurely back in her lap as she shot him a sharp glare, the cheesy smile waning on her face as she warned him with her frosty eyes.

The meal had not started as they waited for a couple more guests to enter the hall and take their seats. Neema was becoming so impatient, she needed this meal to hurry up and be over with so she could go to sleep and pretend Leslie was dead and Khan was incapacitated. Her unborn child was really making her volatile. Volatile and hungry.