The Dead

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Damien

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Damien

He came back to the cabin feeling like an ass for making her wait so long after the conversation they had just had. He half expected her to be gone, half expected all of it to have been a rampant fantasy. He opened the door expecting to be once again alone. He was wrong.

She lay on his couch, hair fanned out around the arm she was using as a pillow. She was sleeping on her side, her deep even breathing a good sign that he hadn't woken her. He watched her, unsure of what to do. He'd never had a female in his home, let alone one that seemed to feel comfortable enough to sleep there. In the past, the women he'd spent his time with had been there to scratch an itch and didn't really expect to stick around after the deed was done. He wondered what it would be like to come home and find her sleeping in his bed. He growled at the thought.

"Liliana?" He kept his voice gentle. She didn't respond. He tried a few more times, louder each time but apparently the girl could sleep through anything. Finally, he shook her awake.

"Damien?" She blinked at him sleepily. It was four in the morning and when she checked her phone she looked at him like he was nuts for waking her. She sat up, but he couldn't bring himself to move back and give her room, so her action brought her within an inch of him. "Hey." She whispered. He wanted to kiss her so badly it was almost a biological need inside of him. He was resisting the urge. She had just learned some very damaging things about him and he would not push her.

Then, something happened that had not happened in over two centuries. A voice, deeper and rougher than his own rose up clear and powerful in his mind.

-Claim what belongs to us, or I will do so.- He closed his eyes. It was him. It was the wolf spirit that shared one's form when one was turned. Many thought that it was simply a virus or a bloodline as with vampires, but in the case of a werewolf, it was something altogether different.

When you were turned the spirit of the wolf was bonded to your own. The only problem with that was, the wolf spirit was its own creature, and it had drives and opinions of its own. He tried to make his wolf understand that to push her now may drive her away.

-She meets our gaze. She sleeps in our den. She is of our pack, and she has made her desire known. She is ours. Claim her. Now.- Damien's wolf was trying to claw to the surface, fighting for control as it had not done in a very long time. He had to look at her. When he did she gasped.

Lily

His eyes had changed to a red so deep they were nearly black. The heat was pouring off his body like waves in the ocean, and his muscles were all tensed. He was trying not to move, trying not to move towards her! Her gaze met his at this revelation. She wasn't sure what was going on, but all she knew was that she wanted to make it better, calm him down.

"Damien?"

"Run." His voice was barely more than a growl, so animalistic the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Every instinct she had was screaming at her that she was in a very small space with a very dangerous animal. Overwhelmed by her own fight or flight instinct she did as she was told and ran. But when she slammed the door behind her she heard things crashing in the cabin.

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