Chapter 25
Creatures of the Dark Series
Shemika was sprawled on her bed, still catching her breath. Caturix had left a quarter of an hour ago, and she was still drained. Her limbs felt too heavy to lift from the silk sheets.
Caturix had hastily gathered his belongings, dressed, and slipped out the window, disappearing into the night.
She had wanted to ask him to stay, but what was the point? Caturix wasnât the type to linger and cuddle. Neither was she, or so she had thought. But after they were done, Caturix had rested on her bed for a moment, catching his breath before leaving.
Foolish Shemika, she had moved toâ¦toâ¦to snuggle him! She had nestled into his arm and rested her head on his chest. But only for a moment. A fleeting moment, before Caturix pulled away from her. He had left so abruptly, as if he couldnât bear to be near her. She was just a casual fling, just as they had agreed. Just as âsheâ had wanted. She had wanted that, at least initially. Now, she wasnât so sure.
What did she want now? Caturix wasnât exactly husband material. He was aloof and self-absorbed. Plus, Shemika knew she wanted a family someday, a loving and kind husband, and at least one child. Caturix would never be up for that. She couldnât picture him with children.
When she tried, she saw Caturix scowling, holding a wailing baby at armâs length. It was a pitiful sight. How sad.
Finally, Shemika mustered the strength to sit up and drew her knees to her chest. She enjoyed her time with Cat. The sex, his humor. Lately, he had been somewhat playful with her. But when he left, she felt a void, a cold emptiness.
It didnât feel right, certainly not healthy.
She shook her head vigorously and buried her face in her hands. She was going to ruin everything with her overthinking, with her emergingâ¦condition. It was just a condition, not feelings. She could handle it.
Shemika turned away, her cheeks burning at the memory of their lovemaking.
Caturix had told her to undress and climb onto her bed, to lie face down with her bottom in the air. He had instructed her to stretch her arms above her head, crossing her wrists and pressing her palms flat.
She had felt soâ¦submissive and vulnerable.
But he had touched her so gently, as if a gust of wind might blow her away. His hands had traced a path up her thighs, over her bottom, and up her back. Then his confidence had returned. He had placed his hand firmly on her lower back and pulled her against him, entering her so swiftly she hadnât had time to utter a word.
He had been rough and quick, but she had sensed he was holding back, as if she couldnât handle his full intensity. She had waited until he was done, which had taken longer than usual, to ask him about it. He had said she didnât heal quickly enough to be taken like that.
It was humiliating. She had never cared about her healing speed before. She used to heal quickly when she shifted regularly, but nowâ¦she and her wolf were out of sync. It was as if they were no longer one. In short, Shemika felt broken.
She had heard about it when she was a child. You needed to maintain both your human and wolf form, or the connection with Mother Luna would sever. Her refusal to shift and her consumption of food unfit for a wolf had led to the apparentâ¦loss of her wolf. She no longer had enhanced abilities. No increased speed, strength, sight, hearing, or healing. She wasâ¦essentially human.
Shemika wasnât even sure if she could shift anymore. She had always despised the process. It wasnât painful, exactly, but she felt unclean and hated being in animal form. She detested running through the woods, the sensation of fur, and the primal urges that overwhelmed her in that form.
She didnât want to shift, butâ¦maybe she had to. Maybe she had to try. At least she would be less vulnerable. She would be stronger, more self-reliant.
Shemika swung her legs off the bed and headed to her bathroom to wash away Caturixâs scent from her skin. She felt like she was attending a funeral, not preparing for a bubble bath. She could hear the funeral march in her head, and her feet felt heavy.
She filled the tub with hot water and bubble bath, then sat on the toilet seat. She drew up a leg and rested her chin on her knee, watching the tub fill. She couldnât stop thinking about the look in his eyes when she had laid her head on his chest.
He had lookedâ¦enraged. He had shrugged her off and hurriedly collected his things. As if the mere thought of emotional involvement was unbearable. She could die of embarrassment. What had she been thinking? Why had she thought that was acceptable?
Ugh, she wanted to curl up and disappear from the shame. She wasnât the type to get attached. She was detached. She didnât care. Men were supposed to chase after her, beg her to become a mated pair.
She stood in front of the mirror, scrutinizing her body with a grimace. He had left very few marks because she couldnât heal like a healthy she-wolf should.
She pinned up her golden curls and carefully stepped into the tub, sinking into the mound of white bubbles. She leaned back against the porcelain and let out a low moan.
She tried to focus on the warmth of the water and the steam rising in the air, but her thoughts kept returning to Caturix, no matter how hard she tried to resist.
She needed to do more things. Maybe get involved with the she-wolves of the pack. She couldnât keep longing for him. All she did was spend time with him, sleep with him, and think about him. She needed a hobby.