chapter 2: Stalked.

Sascha froze and for a second all she could see was the monster. The huge wolf rising from the edge of the depression. The body crouched on his front legs. His ears stiff from her, he seemed ready to pounce at any moment on her.

She swallowed hard. Very slowly and under the watchful and aggressive gaze of the wolf, she began to stand up. The wolf snarled at him, the thick ash-gray fur on its back bristling menacingly.

Her ankle howled in pain and her leg gave out, Sascha fell to the ground again. She froze her heart beating like crazy against her ribs. Breathing was getting harder. The cold wind she blew on her, carrying the errant strands of her discarded braid away from her face.

Cold sweat soaked Sascha's skin. She was so, so dead. She thought her, as she slowly crawled back.

Then the monster began to move and at that precise moment, the wind changed direction again, dragging strands of hair into Sascha's eyes, it was through them that she watched the creature freeze. Her front leg is slightly supported.

She would have found it funny if she were not one-step away from dying.

She got to her feet the next time she tried. It was not easy, her leg got soft every second, and every time she thought, she would fall again. Furthermore, she still had to pay attention to the large ash gray wolf.

Feelings of anguish and anxiety were on the rise when the monster merely observed it frozen and...

Sniff it? Was the creature sniffing her? Was he serious?

Sep, he was serious. The beast's head tilted in her direction, the nostrils rapidly expanding and contracting as if it wanted to suck in all the surrounding air were a very strong indication of it. A confused and dazed expression veiled the monster's eyes as if he did not understand what was happening.

Well, she did not understand either, and damn the world if she stayed to find out. A —unusual, but welcome— prick of anger pulsed in her blood. She still had to collect the slap that her ex owed her and by the Spirits, she would get it.

With her characteristic gentleness, Sascha took a slight step back and stopped, as the muscles in her injured leg screamed in protest. She waited with her breath held and her teeth clenched. When the monster did not come out of her reverie, she did not let out a sigh in her chest but instead took the opportunity to continue slowly backing away.

Her body tense in anticipation of his future escape, her breath soft and contained. Drawing on all of her self-control, she was well aware that she would need a miracle to save herself.

Was it terror that restored him to sanity? Or did she want her to slap her ex so bad?

It must be the last.

She had taken ten steps when a branch cracked softly under her boot. The monster jerked its head up, his eyes were suddenly clear of all confusion. However, the look in his eyes made Sascha wince. There was a very particular hungry madness shining in them, a madness that she had not been there before.

His being narrowed wild amber eyes on her as if she had just noticed the distance between them and did not like it one bit. A deep growl echoed through the thicket of her and Sascha felt her skin twitch in panic. She spun on her heel, the pain in her leg relegated to a forgotten corner of her psyche, her heart stabbing in terror and she ran.

She propelled her legs to the max, squeezing every last ounce of energy out of her, but even in her prime, she couldn't have ducked a hundred-pound heavier monster, with a body built for long runs through the rugged forest terrain.

The monster's hot breath fanned the nape of her neck and her dress was held up behind her. Sascha squealed, unable to control this reaction from her particular body. The seams of the dress ripped from force and momentum, the fabric yielding miserably under the power of those fierce fangs.

She rolled on the ground, knocked down by the monster, and fell onto her back. Half of her torso naked from her. The cold afternoon wind swept over her exposed skin from hers, a bare nipple prickling from the evening chill.

Sascha couldn't worry about such small details, who cared about modesty when she was one step away from being ripped apart? Not she, that's for sure.

Or maybe there was still time to run again? Sascha looked at the monster above her and knew she was lost. The wolf's bright amber eyes shone brightly, hers, his body encasing her in a cage of muscle, his breath a step away from her throat.

The wolf seemed particularly fierce and hungry.

With a sigh, she closed her eyes and accepted her fate. The monster stiffened, she could feel the tension in his body. Perhaps it was true that during your last seconds of life a rotating lantern would project the events of your life because Sascha recounted the last three decades that she lived.

She had no memories of the first six years of her life. Perhaps it was due to the trauma of her parents' abandonment or perhaps it was her mind in an unconscious action to protect her from her past, but the truth was that her life began in that cold place and rainy in Arden Square in front of the Temple gates.

The years of hanging his head, of never fighting, of having nothing of his own, not a home, not a family, much less love and acceptance. She could have married the Cornfields, but they had never accepted her. To make matters worse, the only person she ever thought loved her turned out to have been betraying her the entire time.

Everything crashed against her.

Sascha thought that she had had enough; if she were going to die, at least she would do it with her head held high. She opened her eyes and fixed a serious look on the monster.

"If you're going to eat me do it at once." She ordered.

The monster approached. Sascha felt the fierce muzzle against her vulnerable throat, the growl reverberating against her skin. To her surprise, a male voice filled with savage content filled her ears.

"Oh, I will," he growled softly. "But not in the way you expect."

Sascha blinked, confused and stunned by the subtle promise in that voice. Then, before her wide eyes, the wolf's skin began to disappear, absorbed by the pores of his body, his muscles trembled and the wolf's features began to blur with inhuman rapidity.

When she finished her body pressing her onto the forest floor, it was not that of a monster, it was that of a man. A huge man in appearance who if not for the wolf ears crowning his long ash gray hair, the wolf's tail lashing his hip, the wild amber eyes and black claws in his hands, might as well pass for a human man.

She noticed the hungry look in those amber eyes and a bad feeling tightened her chest. The bad feeling was fulfilled when she felt a heavy and hot part of his anatomy fall onto her belly.

"You got to be kidding." She screamed out of breath.

Sascha's small fists fell on the monster's hard, muscular chest, her legs kicking without hitting anything, her body writhing desperately. The member leaning on her only grew against her belly.

A low growl vibrated in the monster's throat seconds before he clamped one hand above Sascha's head. Hot breath fanned the skin of her bare shoulder from hers and another clawed hand ripped the remains of her gown apart.

She was so, so screwed up.