Chapter 7

Hi everyone! I just wanted to say thank you for nearly 300 views, it means a lot that you are even reading this book!:) Remember to vote and comment what you think <3

I'm also sorry that I've not been updating regularly, I've got my exams in the summer and my teachers are deciding to be wonderful souls and give me uncountable amounts of mock papers. Poor trees.

I do plan on updating every 4 days, maybe earlier but it depends on how busy I am.

Anyway, now I'll leave you to read, enjoy my lovelies <3

He said he'd never hurt me.

Sunlight filtered through the windows, highlighting the destruction inside the room.

My eyes fluttered open and I pulled my body up, a violent ache still present.

He said he'd never hurt me.

The house appeared silent, so I clambered out of bed carefully, and went in search of a shower. There was a door close to me which luckily led to a large, fully equipped bathroom.

Pulling my dirty clothes off was hard enough as pain sliced through my body, no doubt from Asher's violence.

He said he'd never hurt me.

Dried blood stained my clothing but at that moment, the only thing I cared about was cleaning myself then I could leave this place with my head held high. I felt like an abused prisoner; a victim. And I hated it, hated feeling weak.

Thankfully, the heat that spread through my body yesterday was gone. It was uncomfortable, unrelenting, and ultimately, confusing. I felt that Asher and me had just gone round in a circle, because now I had more questions than ever, and a deeper craving for vengeance.

As I waited for the shower to warm up, I dared to look at my reflection in the floor to ceiling glass mirror taking up one of the walls.

I've never looked this bad in my life. Bruises were scattered all over my body with blood stains across my arms and legs where it pinned me down.

The sight of my neck was truly shocking and unnerving. It was a mark, similar to a hickey,but much larger, which coloured the imprints a bright, dark silver.

Anger surfaced within me. How dare he mark me like this, against my will. The most aggravating aspect of this was that I didn't even know what the mark meant, what it could do. The unpredictability of it made me anxious.

My hands were balling into fists by my sides, but I closed my eyes and breathed. I kept doing these small breathing exercises until I calmed down, pushing the anger back down.

When the time came, he would get what he deserved.

Clambering into the shower, I let the warmth envelope me, temporarily transporting me to a world of peace and relaxation.

Once I was finished I walked out and reached for a towel hanging off a modern rail, taking time to sort myself out, not out of care for my appearance, but so I could clear my head.

Leaving the bathroom, I tiptoed around the glass and wooden shards sporadically littered across the floor towards the cabinet which had been pushed down to the ground.

Carefully opening the doors I grabbed the first clothes I could see which happened to be a black Tshirt and some sweatpants.

Throwing them on, I opened the bedroom door, leading me into the hallway. Memories of last night flooded back but I ignored them, even when I saw claw prints marked onto the wooden flooring.

I edged around them, staying as quiet as possible. I wasn't sure where Asher was and I most definitely didn't want to know. He was dead to me, despite barely knowing him, hatred writhed and burned within me.

As I was traipsing through the corridor I couldn't help but admire the decor. It was stylishly furnished yet maintained  centuries old features, similar to the rest of the house. As much as I hated to admit it, as a lover of history and modernness combined, I loved this house.

The rumbling of my stomach pulled me out of my thoughts and as I ventured down the elegant stairway, my breath caught in my throat.

There, standing in the corridor near the door, was Asher. He turned around just as I neared the final steps of the stairs.

His face radiated the ever present air of authority and emotionless. Not even a flicker of remorse lined his expressions.

That's what truly made me edge near a breakdown. The fact that he honestly didn't care about hurting me, abusing me. I suppose my initial perceptions of him were completely wrong.

He took a small step forward and that was enough to violently pull me out of my thoughts.

"Don't come near me" I whispered, my voice cracking, my head turning away in a hope to repel him despite the pull he and I have being suddenly enhanced. I ached to touch him, look at him, and it drained my willpower to stay away from him.

I didn't understand why this was happening, why me, why not some other girl? Why did I still want him, crave him, after what he'd done to me?

Then realisation dawned on me. The mark. The mark has enhanced this bond between us. As I brought my hand up, slightly scraping across the imprints, I saw red.

"What have you done to me" I'd never heard my voice so menacingly low and threatening.

" I've marked you" he replied, maintaining eye contact, as though he wasn't stating the obvious.

"No shit Sherlock" I replied with hatred , anger seeping into my tone.

" NEVER talk to me like that again, You may be new to the werewolf world but carry on the way you are you won't be alive to properly see it"  His eyes were turning obsidian, darkness swirling within his grey depths.

He quickly surveyed my outfit and with the gruff nod of his head, he began walking to the front door, grabbing car keys off a small wooden table.

He tilted his head for the briefest of moments, almost commanding me to follow him.

"Where are we going?" I inquired, momentarily pushing his threat to the back of my mind, a small amount of anxiousness drifting into my voice.

He turned his head fully, a sadistic smirk lining his tanned face.

" The Pack"