Keith Ch. 02

Okay, I don't know how this has come out because it had italics, but my computer spazzed and won't let me upload this properly. It's unedited, and sorry it took so long! :/

Extract. Keith Ch. 01

...Keith's gaze stained with disbelief as he looked from him warily to the armed men coming slowly forwards. He backed up against the wall.

What the Hell? His wolf thought as their minds separated. They were still sharing, his wolf was just as aware as he was.

You idiot! Can't you see? The bastard set us up.

Uh, how? He doesn't know us?

Don't ask me. You'd know if I knew, he thought.

He roared in pain as something hit his leg. He looked to see a huge, feathered end of a tranquilizer dart sticking out of his flank. Stumbling forwards he made for Adam, his claws outstretched.

Then Keith passed out, as the men dragged him away.

---

Keith Ch. 02

Keith woke to find himself shrouded in darkness. His head was pounding violently and he felt like you do when you have a hangover.

What the hell? he thought. He tried to sit up.

"Ow, fuck!" he cried as his head truck metal, hard.

Slowly, he tried to stand up again but ended up on all fours, completely naked. Suddenly Keith was thrown forwards, stomach lurching; and he could almost feel the content of his stomach (granted most of that was liquid, probably alcohol) crawling up his throat. Overhead he could hear voices, and very pronounced English accents. It stank, of animal piss, amongst other things, so he 'shifted' quickly. It was less shifting, more reverting back to primal form. Keith felt faint and still had little inkling of how he'd got where he was, and for that matter, where he was at all? Almost as soon as the air stopped buzzing and snapping with pent-up energy a door flew open and a beefy man in orange overalls stepped out. He looked like a ferry worker.

"Coulda sworn I heard somethin' down here, Mark, coulda sworn it..." the man mumbled, then shut the door after squinting at all of the animals, cutting off the light again.

Ohh... fuck. Ferry worker?

The cage - or what he supposed to be a cage, as his head had previously hit multiple metal bars, - lurched again and he was thrown once more to the left. His prison slammed against the side of another with a resounding thud and a whine from the other cage's inhabitants.

Everything flooded back to him as he hit his head again against the bar. His wolf, thank God for small mercies, was silent. He felt nauseated as memories crowded his head, fighting for dominance. Alcohol. Lube. Adam. Fucking horse tranquilizer.

Adam.

The name taunted him mercilessly, ringing over and over in his ears. Adam, Adam, Adam, Adam.

He snarled at the memory of the bastard that had set him up. Damn him to Hell!

He stopped, then tried to think things over. In a sense Keith had raped him, or close enough, and had been not at all compassionate. Oh fuck. What if Adam called the cops on him?

Oops, I forgot, he thought bitterly. He already did.

He was a... werewolf hunter. His wolf finally piped up, very quietly surprising Keith. His wolf was a loud character and when he had something to say, he spoke volumes, so that everyone heard him. Of course Keith and his wolf both believed in the saying actions speak louder than words and tended to live by it, which at least started to explain the behaviour in Adam's bedroom. He didn't know we were... what we are... but he'd seen it all before.

For once, Keith didn't bother to argue. Don't think about it now, concentrate on the situation, you can worry about that.... Later. When later was, he didn't know, but a new issue had risen out of the cloudy bog that was his mind.

Claustrophobia.

His wolf began mentally pacing. Keith was insanely claustrophobic, and his cage sure as Hell was no presidential suite. He could barely breathe, let alone turn around, as the metaphorical walls seemed to close in on him. A cacophony of barks, whines, hisses, squawks, and God knows what else distracted him from his claustrophobia but Keith was sure it was turning him deaf. With irritation he lay himself down resting his head upon his paws, and painfully slowly did he fall into the fitful clutches of sleep.

***

He woke with a start to English voices quite like his own. He felt groggy and realised the cage floor was covered in vomit.

Shit, he thought.

Dear Lord, that stinks, his wolf thought, and Keith gave an annoyed growl. English accents. Last time I checked, we were in Michigan, and now we're somewhere in the U.K. That means we've been on this boat, or that's what I assume it is because normal people don't dress in crappy overalls like that unless they're loony, for a week or so. Bloody hell, home sweet home, eh?

A week. No wonder there was all the foul-smelling vomit, Keith could barely stomach a half an hour ferry journey from Dover to France; let alone 6 fucking days from America to England! Keith was English, but his voice had an Irish lilt. He'd moved to Michigan to distance himself from his family after a huge family disagreement, where most of - if not all - the family was against him. Anyone'd feel pressured, Keith's family was goddamn huge. He had originally intended to go back home, to London, but had never got around to it.

A few more men followed the first in, various shapes and sizes but all wearing the same dirty orange overalls. There was not a single overall that was not smeared with dirt, grime, and oil. One bloke with dark red hair kept glancing at him warily. Granted, they all were doing so - duh, he was a wolf. But this kid was looking at him... different. Keith supposed he was a were too, and sat pondering it calmly as all of the crates were hauled out into a van, then off the ferry, and outside. People, mostly fat women in fur coats with their nervous looking husbands, rushed forwards to grab their snotty poodles or hissing Siamese cats and shot Keith worried or disgusted glances. He bit back a harsh laugh that would probably have come out as a bark of some sort, even though wolves didn't bark.

Instead, he sprang to his feet, his whole calm demeanour dissolved as his eyes fell upon Him. His lips curled back over his teeth and saliva began dripping from his teeth as his golden flecked green eyes narrowed and the silver fur on his hackles raised. There came that weird-un-named-son-of-a-bitch-white-coat-wearing bastard, smug as you like, not a hair out of place. The one that had burst through the door after Keith'd forced Adam into sex - well, it wouldn't be sex, it'd be rape - with armed guards, gave him a huge dose of fucking horse tranquilizer (though it felt like they had given him something like bloody elephant tranquilizer. He was unsteady on his feet and his vision was blurred) and took him God knows where. Keith was hoping beyond hope that someone would see his distress...

But no one did.

He knew he couldn't shift, he'd get put into the zoo. Or worse, strapped to some loony's operating table. Not that he would be better off where he was.

"You sure 'e's a hybrid, sir? Looks feral to me," one of the overalls commented.

"Quite sure. Gift from my Aunt, bless her poor soul. He'd just a bit nervous, he came all the way from Michigan see... and he's probably not broken in yet."

The red haired fella watched Keith get hauled away with a muzzle around his nose.

Yeah, he's a 'wolf, he and his own wolf thought in unison.

Keith would have found him attractive, but, given the circumstances, that'd be hardly appropriate. He begged him with his eyes to help instead, as multiple sharp tugs on his jaws had him shuffled away bit by bit.

The bloke did actually look like he was going to, but a man rested a slender hand on his shoulder and told him to "stop staring at passengers and get back to work". Meekly he nodded and walked away with one last apologetic look in Keith's direction. At that last notion, Keith's wall of resistance finally crumbled. It'd have been futile to keep fighting anyway, and would probably have landed him in more trouble than he was in already, so he didn't struggle against Hair Gel's strong hold. Roughly he was shoved into the back of a black van and he took his last look at the outside world before the doors closed with a slam.