Closer (Negan X OC)

Chapter 3

One car door opened and closed, followed by another. I heard footsteps coming towards me, but I didn't look up.

I knew something bad was coming for me. I just didn't have the stomach to look up and see what it was. Or who it was.

The next thing I knew, some black boots were in my line of sight, a few feet away from me. Still, I didn't look up to see who was wearing them.

In that moment, the silence was deafening. The person in front of me was the one that spoke.

"Where did you find her?" he asked. His voice was deep, with an accent I couldn't quite place.

"At a liquor store," Chester answered, sounding proud of himself.

"Look at me," the person in front of me commanded. Silent tears continued to fall and I shook my head, still refusing to meet his gaze. Just then, a large hand, covered by a leather glove, made contact with my chin. I was expecting him to be rough, to jerk my head up, but he pulled my face up gently, almost caressingly. He lifted my face so I was now looking up at him. Once I was, his hand dropped.

When my eyes met his, something happened.

I couldn't describe what I felt as just one thing. It couldn't be encompassed in just one emotion or feeling. It was emotional, physical, and oddly spiritual all at the same time. I entered into this state of hyperawareness where all my senses were on fire. The first thing that I noticed quite vividly was a scent that was made up of various things. I smelled leather, gunpowder, whiskey, spice and something else...it smelled like soap combined with something else that was so inherently male.

In that moment, I began to make sense of my physiology. My heartbeat had increased, along with my temperature. I think the most surprising thing was that I was aroused. Like sexually aroused. By no means was I unexperienced when it came to sex, but to feel completely turned on for no apparent reason, especially given my current situation, even made me blush. In my mind, something had clicked. I felt complete somehow, like the stars had aligned. Like everything that I had been through in my entire life had been leading up to this exact moment.

I could see every detail of him. I could see the creases around his eyes and other small details on his face that told me he was older, probably in his late forties. He had a salt and pepper beard that was neatly trimmed. I could see the dimples that formed as he gave me the most charming smile I had ever seen in my life. Even though the only source of light was from the headlights behind him, I could see his hazel eyes clearly, speckled with green. He had short black hair that was slicked back and specked with gray strands. He must have been over six feet tall, his muscular form subtle but noticeable under his clothing. He was dressed in dark gray pants, with a worn leather jacket, matching gloves, and a plain white tee that could be spotted under his dark red bandana. I had never been attracted to older men, but the one looking down at me now was changing my mind about my age preference. Everything about him oozed confidence, from his cocky grin to his stature, but it was more than that. It was his aura. And then it hit me—this man in front of me, he was a wolf like me. But he wasn't just any wolf...he was an alpha.

In the seconds that transpired since we made eye contact, he had bent down so he was now directly in front of me, eyes boring into mine. His eyes had a look of curiosity in them at first, but that curiosity was replaced by something else: desire.

As his eyes darkened, he spoke again, his voice low and his words oozing out of his mouth like honey.

"Mine," he purred.

At his statement, I attempted to break eye contact with him, feeling completely overwhelmed by the entire situation, but before I was able to focus on the ground, his gloved hand made contact with my face again, this time cupping my cheek in his hand and keeping it level with his face. Involuntarily, perhaps even instinctually, I leaned into his touch and watched him. He was taking in every detail, from my tousled hair and the mascara that had ran down my face, to the curve of my lips. From his position, the light was hitting me perfectly, all parts of me on display for him. His gaze stopped when he reached the spot near by cheekbone, where Jay had hit me, making me realize it was probably bruising. Without turning to my capturers, and the other man from the truck, he spoke.

"Who did this to her?" he asked in a steady voice, letting his fingers ghost across my face, especially where I was hit. His voice was low and laced with an emotion I couldn't place. His mouth tightened in a fine line and his eyes narrowed at the visible mark left behind. I realized what that emotion was almost instantaneously. Anger.

"I-I did," Jay said, sounding nervous. The man in front of me dropped his hand and turned around when Jay spoke.

"And the cut?" he asked, as his eyes went to Chester. I could have sworn that I heard him audibly gulp. Jay spoke then, coming to the duo's defense.

"She tried to escape," he said, almost pleadingly. "We had to make sure she couldn't get away."

I couldn't see the expression of the man in front of me, but he jerked his head to his passenger that was still near the truck. That man had a rather large moustache and reached into the truck, pulling out whatever the other had silently requested. My eyes widened as he handed the object to the other man. It was a wooden baseball bat, crudely wrapped in barbed wire. I had never been religious, but in that moment, I silently prayed that it wasn't meant to be used on me.

The man started to swing the bat around as he swaggered in the small area. There was something almost playful about his nature, but as I scanned the faces of the men around me, I knew something bad was about to happen.

I just hoped that it wasn't my demise.

After sauntering around for what felt like an eternity, he stopped in front of me, kneeling down and leaning on the bat.

He smiled at me before he spoke. "Listen doll, I am so fuckin' sorry for those dipshits. I want you to know that hurtin' women is not fucking cool with me. And shit, given who you are to me, given the fact that you're my goddamn mate, I'm about to show these dipshits how absolutely not fucking cool it is."

I said nothing to his response, even more overwhelmed than I was before. Mate? Although I had been a wolf for over a decade, there was still so much about that world that I didn't know. Given his statement, I was positive that this man just laid his claim on me.

He continued to speak, gesturing towards the bat with his empty hand. "This here is Lucille. And she is a stickler for the rules. And one of my top rules, along with not raping women, is not hurtin' women. And these assholes," he gestured to Chester and Jay, "hurt you. So they're gonna be taught a lesson by Lucille."

Before I could respond, he moved from his position in front of me and swung the bat around, moving across the area to Chester, hitting him square in the jaw, sending blood flying and bones cracking. As the bat made contact with his face, he screamed in pain at the dislocation of his jaw. He fell to the ground, lying on his side, gurgling blood. The man with the bat moved closer to him before he continued—he began to deliver hard-hitting blows, not stopping until Chester's head was...well, not a head anymore.

I should have been sick to my stomach. I should have closed my eyes and looked away at the gruesome sight in front of me. But I didn't. I watched until there wasn't anything left of Chester, the rest of his body collapsed into the dirt and twitching. The man with the bat let out a satisfied sigh, swinging the remaining chunks of Chester's head and blood onto the ground.

"Man, Lucille was thirsty! She is a vampire bat!" he laughed at his own bad joke. He turned back around to look at me, his jacket now specked with blood and a wild look in his eyes. He seemed to be pleased with himself.

"Doll, I am so sorry! Where the fuck are my manners? I introduced you to Lucille, but you have no idea who the hell I am." He kneeled again so that he was directly in front of me, using the bloodied bat to lean on.

"I'm Negan," he said, holding out his gloved and bloody hand.