My hands met the cold, hard cement, my body soon to follow. A cry echoed throughout the small, empty room, which I barely recognized as my own. Dampness shrouded my vision, as well as my clothes on the ground. I shook violently in fearful anticipation, watching as the shadows left without a word. It was almost complete sensory deprivation; I could only rely on my already bad hearing.
Some time passed, my sobs quieting to hear footsteps approaching. Sliding back into the shadows, I buried my head into my legs and listened to the creaking of the rusted door opening. "Annora, isn't it?" His voice had a very distinct sound. Deep, smooth, with a hint of fruitiness. I refused to respond. "Speak, Miss Annora, I can still see you and hear you."
I lifted my head, but was still unable to make out any specific features, other than his tall stature and well toned muscles. As he advanced, his feet fell lightly, gracefully. The man knelt beside me, forcing my eyes to meet his, and I wouldn't have noticed the faded green, with specks of gold, if it hadn't been for his face being only inches from mine.
I knew right then and there, I was dead.
YOU ARE READING
Leashed 《DISCONTINUED》
WerewolfWhat would it be like if werewolves were real? What about if they ran the world? That is reality for Annora Mullison. And though it isn't the dystopian fantasy as the stories suggest, being the pet of a high ranking werewolf isn't what Annora calls...
