Queen of the Night (Witchfire 1)

Chapter 11 - A Hill To Die On

I was met with an explosion of muscle.

The suddenness of his transformation from man to beast was astonishing. I latched onto a wolf's throat, which I was less than pleased about, because it meant I had to search through a baffle of thick pelt for a vein to pierce. His fur tickled the sensitive cavern of my mouth, denying me blood. 

With a snarl, the wolf threw his head into mine, hard. The fur slipped through my teeth and he shook me off. Claws scrabbling for purchase on the polished floors, I retreated as hastily as my precarious footing allowed, hoping to facilitate space in which I could reevaluate the threat that he posed.

We glared at each other from across the room. The size of a Clydesdale horse, he comprised hulking, bear-like shoulders and a barrel chest that tapered into an angular waist. The pelt I'd been chewing on was intriguing, patterned in variegated shades of ebony, russet and white. It was the perfect camouflage for a forest terrain in the seasonal throes of autumn and winter.

Submit, came a sound from within. It was the voice of the rival wolf.

Submit to me. This time, the words were accompanied by a surge of compulsion. I knew that if I fought it, the voice would merely return, with the same force and intent again and again, like waves beating themselves senselessly on the shore. I shook my head, as if to clear it of the pestering sensation.

The next wave of compulsion broke a dam of anger in my mind. I would not roll over for this other wolf, not for self-preservation or personal gain! He was the worthiest suitor I'd ever been presented with, but I would not take him. Procreation and cooperation were the furthest things from my mind as I gathered all of my strength and charged.

He ducked beneath my attack with lightning speed. Wicked canines snagged in my flank, eliciting a burst of agony and a seeping warmth. I whirled on him with a bark of pain, laying open the thin stretch of skin on his muzzle. In no time we were grappling, trying to bowl one another over, lost in a whirlwind of cuts and bruises and primal instincts.

We crashed into a serving trolley and a pot of soup went flying. It scorched where it splashed on our hides. I felt a pang of betrayal. Food had never mistreated me in such a manner before.

Damn it, Chance, came that voice again, curdling with the heat of frustration. With the close contact of our minds came a rudimentary understanding of his language, and I was surprised to learn that the strange word was my name. Just submit! It'll make both of our lives that much easier!

With intense concentration, I was able to formulate a coherent reply. No, I sent back, picking up a chair with my teeth and launching it at him with all the force I could muster. It shattered when it came into contact with the crown of his head, attesting to the thickness of his skull. I will not submit.

Give in, he ordered, incensed.

Give up, I snarled back.

You are mine, he sent with a guttural noise of rage, freeing himself from the remnants of the chair with a vicious shrug. And if you will not give, then I will take!

With that warning, he set upon me with an assortment of sharp attacks. One second he was nipping at my ankles; the next, his teeth caught my ear; the next, he clamped down on my tail. I struggled to evade him, to launch attacks of my own, but he was faster and his parries were flawless. I realised with horror that he'd been holding back until now.

How was I supposed to compete with this?

When I reared to bite the back of his neck, he tackled me into the concrete feature wall. It fissured a little, but was ultimately thick enough to withstand the impact. Crushed between an unstoppable force and an immovable object, I felt my skeleton straining, tested as it had never been tested before.

One of my ribs gave way with a brittle crunch. Pain punched through my chest and I howled. The sound petered into a wet gurgle as something hot and sticky collected in the bottom of my lungs. My eyes rolled into the back of my head, but the hurt was the petulant kind that demanded attention, clawing me back into consciousness.

Sensing something amiss, the rival wolf skittered back to assess the damage he'd inflicted. Although he was willing to beat me senseless to assure compliance, at the end of the day he wanted to spare me serious injury, so that I could act in the role of his mate.

Rather than curl into a ball like I wanted to, I took advantage of the reprieve and lunged at his throat in one last, desperate attempt to introduce him to death. The side of his head cracked into mine and my teeth came together with the hollow click of an empty reunion.

Snarling at my audacity, he climbed onto my shoulders, forcing me to the ground with the brunt of his weight. My knees buckled and the fire in my chest worsened. I could not move. I could not breathe.

Submit, he insisted once more, and there was something final in his tone. His patience had worn thin. Testing it would be unwise.

Shuddering with exhaustion, I tried to unseat him but collapsed instead. He took the back of my neck in his mouth and applied pressure. It was an undeniable hold. One quick bite was all it would take to sever my spine, disconnect my brain from the rest of my body and end me forever. It was how Arthur had died.

I was defeated.

I took in a slow, hitching breath. The knowledge that I had failed fermented inside of me like rotten meat. The scent of musk and sandalwood drenched the air that I consumed — his scent, I realised with a burst of hatred — and his mind pressed in on mine from all directions. Battered and bruised and tired, I resisted the urge to give in to his desires, resisted the call to become his mate... but it was growing increasingly difficult. He was strong, stronger than I'd ever expected.

There are three options here, I told him. Even though the words were weak in volume, there was strength in their conviction. You can either submit to me, kill me, or you can delay making a choice until the blood in the bottom of my lungs rises and finishes the job for you.

Don't be ridiculous, he scoffed. Submit to me and I'll release you. It's as simple as that.

No, it wasn't that simple at all. Then I will drown.

We fell into silence, and time continued on as I did — stubbornly and without regard for the suffering of others. Breathing became more and more difficult, and the corners of my vision flickered dark, but I didn't mind. Even as I lost, I was winning. I would die, but I would not live as a slave.

That was all that mattered.

When oblivion came, I embraced it.