Red and her Wolf Ch. 11

A/N: Someone recommended that I put this story in Nonhuman so I am trying that out.

This chapter's super intense so buckle up!

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Emily:

"So what do you think, Ray?" I stand in front of the long, antique mirror. Phone camera facing the glass, backing up a few steps to make my whole body fit in the frame.

A Facebook message from my mother pops up at the top of the screen. Your father and I are very worried about the choices you are making-

I quickly dismiss it, stomach sinking before I pull myself together.

My sister makes exaggerated oohs and awws. "You're a mega-babe. Digging the dress."

"You don't think red on red is too much?" I tilt my head at skin-tight, glittering crimson. A dangerous slit up the side and just enough cleavage to tease.

"No way. That shade and cut is perfect on you. Farmboy is gonna die."

"I thought he was Country Boy." I frown, flipping the screen to see my sister laying back on her hostel bed. "About that..." I sit down at my vanity, angling my phone against a stack of gardening books. "Kade's not the one taking me."

"He's not?"

"No." I rummage through my makeup bag, products clicking together before I twist open a tube of lipstick. "Blake is."

"Wait, what?" Ray hoists herself upright on an elbow. "Who's Blake? What happened to Farmboy?" Her clear disappointment amplifies my regret. Rejecting Kade's too-late invite has been eating away at me for days.

"He's a guy I met in the forest nearby." I watch Ray's face tighten with skepticism.

"I assure you, he's very cute."

"Okay." Ray nods slowly, absorbing this. "So, he's the outdoorsy type. I guess you're into that now?" She leans closer to the camera, eyes narrowing. "What else is he like?"

Nothing sparks in my mind, an uneasy emptiness hollowing out my belly. "Well, he drives a Lamborghini. And he's, uh..." How on earth is it that I have so little memory of Blake yet I feel so connected to him? His stark blue eyes were even the main feature of my dreams last night, though I can't remember what happened there either."He's just a good guy."

"So this good guy shows up out of nowhere with a Lambo and Kade's just... out of the picture now."

Memories of orgasming all over Kade's fingers while his dirty talk filled my ear rushes to mind. No issue remembering that. "It just didn't work out, Ray." A film of numbness encircles me. "It happens."

"So what does this Blake guy do?" The way she says his name suggests quotations bookending the letters.

More blank space."The dance is going to be us getting to know each other better," I say quickly, smearing cherry-colored pigment across my lips. "We just met." Another reluctant nod from Ray doesn't encourage me. "Hey, at least I have a date. Things could be worse."

"True."

I smack my lips together and pull back to observe myself again. "Are you absolutely sure the red hair-red dress combo isn't too much?"

Ray yawns with a bone-cracking stretch. "Would I lie to you?"

"No," I chuckle. "You don't have a lying cell in your body."

"Correct." She plops backwards on her pillow. "If the dress sucked I'd tell you."

"You haven't even seen the full attire yet." I stretch towards the dresser for my mask and strap it over my eyes. The sparkling red material covers half the bridge of my nose. Fanning out wide at the edges in the shape of butterfly wings. "See?" I flick a gold antenna. "It's a masqued ball."

"Cool." Ray plants a hand behind her head. "I was wondering how the butterfly theme was going to show up."

The mask reflects orbs of red light on the surface of my vanity table. "I have to admit..." I rub fallen glitter between my fingers. "I'm pretty nervous about tonight."

"Butterflies for the Butterfly ball?" Ray quips. "To be fair, you don't know this guy very well. Good reason to be nervous."

That latter statement seems more ominous than it should but I ignore it. "I'm just excited to dance and get out on the town for a bit. I haven't had a fun night in forever."

"Except for, you know, you and Kade having a fun night not so long ago."

"Please stop bringing him up." I promptly switch subjects. "How about you? Find any classy French gals out there?"

"No, for some reason I keep being harassed by hordes of Parisian studs all day." She flashes her signature wry grin. "I don't get it. I was told that I'd be confused for a man with my short hair out here. I wear Birkenstocks and overalls for Christ's sake. I'm not exactly what you'd call straight-looking."

"You're pretty, Ray. If I were a guy, I'd at least give it a shot."

"It's the O' Hara curse. We're just too damn good looking." Ray bursts into sarcastic laughter and I smile back. "I miss you, Em. I wish you could've come out here with me."

I take off my mask, set it gingerly on my nightstand. "Next time we'll be sure to go together."

Ray pauses for a few moments as I zip my makeup bag shut. "Can I tell you a dream I had about you last night?"

"Sure." I pick up my phone and bring her closer.

"The thing is, it was sort of a nightmare."

The entire atmosphere in the room changes. Like I've just been dropped into a cold, dark cave. "It was?"

"Basically, you were standing in the middle of this burning forest, and there were all these black wires on you. Encasing your entire head, going down your arms and legs. And you were just....glitching out. Eyes white. Smiling this eerie fucking smile." She shakes her head, sucking in a breath. "It's like your soul was taken from you."

I stare at Ray through the screen for too long, lost for words, goosebumps crawling as I glance around the room. "Did you have to tell me that when it's dark out? That's so creepy."

Should I tell her that I too have been having nightmares? Dreaming of the forest, it's black branches pulling at me, dragging me to my death. Red sky glaring above as I'm swallowed into the earth.

I'm not sure where reality ends or my nightmares begin anymore. My brain's been doing funny things these past few days. Fuzzing memories. Gaps of time missing. My mind feels clouded over, washed out and fading away.

Maybe I really am going crazy.

"Sorry, I just rarely ever have dreams that vivid. I wish I knew what it meant."

"It probably didn't mean anything." I supply a weak answer. "You know how our brains just filter out all the crap in our subconscious."

Despite this feeling wrong, what's the alternative? What else can I say? Dreams are just dreams, after all.

At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

"Yeah." Ray shifts awkwardly on her mattress. "You're probably right." A muffled voice calls somewhere in the background. "I gotta go, Em. Have fun tonight. Don't get into too much trouble."

I blow her a goodbye kiss and try not to let that last sentence feel like a warning.

*

When I walk out onto the front porch to wait for Blake, I stumble upon something small and soft.

I panic, thinking it's another mouse before I actually absorb what it is: a small sewn-up bag. Deep blue. A faint, sweet scent wafting from it when I lean to pick it up. Holding the bag to my nose, I inhale the fragrance of lavender and some musky, mysterious herb. There's a small message attached, scrawled with what can only be Kade's handwriting:

Put this in your purse.

Another one of his please-forgive-me gifts? Despite the facade of steel I've been putting up, it's working. I've melted into pudding now. An odd vibration swells warmth up my hands, my arms, and over the crown of my head as I turn the little bag in my fingers. As I tuck the item into my purse, I stand on my tiptoes, hoping to find Kade's pick-up truck next door. Unfortunately, it's gone.

Minutes later, Blake backs into my driveway. As I clip down the porch steps, he gets out of his Lamborghini, looking dashing in a deep purple tuxedo. He skims a palm through greased-back hair before he leans against the car door.

"Emily, Emily, Emily," Blake hums, eyeing me up and down. "You look..." He offers me a slick smile. "Good enough to eat."

Nervous laughter titters out my mouth."You look quite ravishing yourself."

Blake adjusts his black bowtie. "Shall we?" He circles the car to open the door for me. As I settle into my seat I look up to find him leering. Peeking down the front of my dress with no shame, his eyes strangely cold, a smirk stretching his mouth. I quickly jerk my head away, unsettled by his lack of tact.

The ride goes by fast because Blake drives like the speed limit is a challenge, reminding me of Phoenix as he veers around tight corners. Classical music blasts at ear-bleeding levels all the while. A confusing mix of break-neck quickness and breathtaking harmonies.

"So, Emily," he croons. "You haven't uh-thought of our last conversation, have you? About two nights ago?" He glances at me, an unnaturally sharp canine catching the light. "Because I think about it all the time."

I look at him, puzzled. I don't remember speaking to him two nights ago. The last thing I remember is setting up this date. "I don't remember much. Must have been half-asleep when we last talked."

"Perfect," he cackles, smacking the wheel like I just told him a hilarious joke. "I love that."

"Why?"My brows pinch together.

"Oh, no real reason." He slaps a hand on my knee and a I nearly catapult out of my skin. "Guess I just love sleepy, forgetful girls." His palm slides up a few inches, fingers curling under my knee. "They're the most fun to play with."

Paralyzing fear creeps cold through my veins. I watch his fingers tighten around my leg, disgust burning up my gut.

I have to find another way to get back home. In fact, I think I have to get out of this car as soon as pos-

Stabbing pain.

Emptiness.

Blake is a good guy.

We arrive at the Town Hall, retro pop music bouncing off my eardrums. The inside is packed with gorgeously costumed people, the decor luminous. Beautiful glowing lanterns adorn the ceiling. Gold and shades of purple. Faux trees line the walls, their branches stretching over us, a plethora of paper butterflies climbing them. A giant glass tank hosts a bevy of real monarchs, dipped in violet light, softly fluttering.

Realizing that I've been gawking, I purposefully clamp my lips shut before turning to my date."Isn't this place amazing?" My eagerness fades when I see Blake is scrolling through some chesty swimsuit model's Instagram page.

"Yeah, it's alright," Blake shrugs, pocketing his device. He slips on the mask he's been holding. Black velvet with silver trim. Covering half his face so only shiny lips and deadly blue eyes show. "Shall we dance, pretty girl?"

Blake doesn't wait for me to respond. He seizes my hand with cold, dry fingers. Dragging me towards the dance floor where a few couples now embrace, bright fabric swirling. The adjoining stage is currently empty of musicians, though it is set up for a band to play.

As Blake pulls me into his arms, something rapidly dawns on me.

Kade was right. Blake doesn't have a scent.

We sway as Billy Idol's "Eyes Without A Face" begins it's staccato synth opening. An eerie contrast as I glance up to find colorless irises peering down at me through a black mask. Never blinking. Reptilian. When the song reaches the chorus, those eyes get distracted by a screeching microphone.

I follow his gaze to find that a band is in fact filing onstage now, the music stopping. I also notice that standing there at the front, red electric guitar in hand, is Kade. Looking drop-dead-gorgeous in a simple black suit. No tie. No mask. No shits given.

What the hell is he doing here?

Kade catches sight of me, scanning my figure in a quick swoop that leaves me weak-legged. Our glances lock and it's impossible to look away, sucked into that ever-present pulse of attraction.

I've never felt more like a phony, standing here in Blake's cold embrace. Awkward and uncomfortable when I could have been in the arms of a man who's always warm for me. Whose attentions make me feel beautiful and desired, instead of repulsed. The difference between Kade's lust and Blake's lust is staggering.

Kade glances at my date, then back to me. Eyes stern, hot flames of resentment snapping behind them. In a seamless flow of motion, he slings the strap of his guitar over his head, stamps his foot on a pedal and speaks coarsely into the buzzing microphone."This one's for Emily."

His guitar wails, hair-raising and impossibly smooth. Then he breaks into the exact same heart-wrenching song I first heard him sing on that dark, rainy night weeks ago. His stare penetrating me. Strings weeping. His voice a gruff siren's call, raw, almost mean. Made even more passionate by the band backing him.

A raging heat sears my skin, undoubtedly matching the shade of my dress. I have more butterflies in my stomach than in this entire room. Everyone in the crowd is looking at us. At Kade playing his heart out for me. At me in another's man's arms. I even catch Myra in the corner, hand over her big mouth as she watches the drama unravel.

For a guy who's so adamant about privacy, this is pretty fucking bold.

Blake is staring too. At Kade. The eeriest smile pasted on his porcelain-skinned face. He snickers under his breath, grabbing my hand to yank me deeper into the crowd. I nearly trip, glancing over my shoulder to see Kade scanning Blake with white-hot anger.

"You keep looking at him," Blake remarks as he pulls me too close for comfort.

"Sorry, I just-" Unable to help myself, I look at Kade again. "I wasn't expecting to see him here."

An aggressive hand jerks my chin away from the stage. "Look at me."

A freezing dagger slices through my forehead. Pain blossoms. Blake grips me with biting fingers and kisses me right in the center of the room. More like an attack than a kiss. All crushing lips and sharp teeth.

Kade's guitar stutters.

I lean against Blake's chest as my head swims. Struggling for clarity. The copper taste of blood on my tongue. I don't know where I am, sucked into void.

The song ends. Another one begins. A bluesy Led Zeppelin cover, the chorus ripping from Kade's throat.

Oh baby, since I've been loving you, I'm about to lose my worried mind.

Just as the power of Kade's voice brings me back to the present, razorblades slice through the folds of my brain.

"Aw, you look a little light-headed, sweetie," Blake tuts. "Let's take a breather." He wraps an arm around my shoulders and drags me to the opposite side of the room. Sits me down at an empty plastic table as colors bleed together.

I can't see the stage anymore, the thick crowd and the butterfly tank blocking it completely. Numbness envelops me again. I zone out, staring at the floor, Kade's voice seeming farther and farther away.

I need to go home. I need to go home. I need to go home-

"Punch?" A red paper cup is shoved in my face, liquid sloshing. Blake's lightless eyes bore into mine as I take the drink in shaky fingers. He pulls up a chair next to me, curling an arm around the back of my seat. "Story time, Emily."

"Story time?" I mumble.

"Mhmm." A frightening undertone in his voice as he leans to whisper in my ear. "Time to share some secrets you've been hiding from me."

A pit opens up in my stomach. I'm all nausea and sweat. "I- I haven't been hiding anything." I do my best to not look directly at him as it seems to trigger blistering headaches. Easy enough when you feel close to passing out. I can barely lift my head up.

"Oh, yes you have." Impatient fingers drum on the tabletop. "Now tell me everything you know about the guy singing onstage right now."

Even through my muddy senses, I get the very stark feeling that I should tell Blake as little as possible. "He's just a friend of mine."

"His name?"

I take a big gulp of sour cherry punch. It's been heavily spiked, vodka burning the back of my throat. "Kade," I cough, sputtering. As I say his name, I know I've already fucked up.

A sardonic cackle oozes out Blake's mouth. "You've gotta be kidding me. That's what he chose?"

"I don't get what you mean." I close my eyes tight to escape my queasiness but there's no relief. All I see is a forest ablaze, crimson flames screaming towards the sky. More nausea roils up my esophagus: bitter cherries and bile. I bury my face in my hands, the ground warping under my feet.

I need to go home. Now.

Before I can formulate an exit plan, Blake pats my bare arm, leaves my skin stinging. "Oh, it's nothing, honey. Me and him...." He chugs the rest of my punch with a deeply annoyed sigh. "We go way back."

Wait. They know each other? I blink hazily. "I didn't realize-"

"What else can you tell me?"

"He's good with his hands." Clumsy words spill before I can think them through. "I mean uh- he's a jack of all trades."

"Always was. I say just focus on one thing at a time." Blake leans in close so I can smell sickly-sweet punch, his lips brushing my neck. "Like right now, all I can see is how pretty you are."

I watch an orange butterfly repeatedly run into glass, wings desperately fluttering. I feel just as trapped. "It's the dress, isn't it?" I murmur, pressing my palm against the tank, my fingers lit up fluorescent purple. The colors start to melt, my skin dripping onto the floor. I pull my hand back with a gasp.

Did Blake drug me tonight? I close my eyes shut, panicking. Open them again and my hand is perfectly normal. Shaking, but normal.

"I'd say it's more what's under the dress that's really catching my eye." Blake licks a slow, slimy trail up the side of my face. Jawline to temple. I veer my head away and it makes my vision blur. "Oh, come on. Don't tell me you're not into it. You want me to lick you everywhere, all night long, don't you? Or is that dress all tease, no play?"

I think I'm going to cry. Or vomit. I'm not sure which.

"I need to go home," I slur. "I have to go." I make a move to get up but I stumble back in my seat.

"Oh dear." Blake clicks his tongue. "You really shouldn't drink so much, sweetie. Makes you look cheap."

"Fuck you." I make another attempt to get up but Blake's hand grips the back of my neck, keeps me down. Bright pain smothers all thought.

"Time to go, Emily." His arm surrounds me like a pincer, the side of my mouth mashed into his shoulder. "I'm starting to get bored."

Then everything goes black.

*

I wake up to a cool hand lightly slapping my face.

"Wakey-wakey, sunshine!"

I groan, throat sore and dry. My whole body aching, limbs turned to mashed gelatin. My eyes adjust in slow, blinking increments before I can fully take in where I am.

Recognition arrives with my stomach heaving. I'm back in Blake's Lamborghini. In an empty lot behind an abandoned 7/11. Parked sideways under a queasily yellow street lamp.

Fuck.

Blake's bare face barges into my vision. A grinning demon."Hope you're feeling rested up, sweetie. Cause' I'm about ready to have some fun." He slides out a joint from his pocket and lights up, pungent skunk smell tickling my nostrils. "Do you smoke the ganja? Sometimes I like to take a few puffs before I start. Makes me giggle."

"You drugged me," I rasp, barely able to speak above a whisper. I reach for my seat belt buckle. "You roofied me-"

"Nope." Blake smacks his hand down hard over mine, joint dangling at the edge of his mouth. "Guess again."

"Yes, you did." I struggle to shift away but his grip is terrifyingly strong. "That drink you gave me-"

"Nope! Boy oh boy, you're fun. Kind of dumb, but fun. Throw those tits in the mix and I can see why he's so obsessed with you." Blake takes another drag. Blows hot smoke in my face, his fingers tightening over my knuckles until I gasp at the pain. As he tosses his joint out the cracked open window, I ball my other hand into a fist. It crashes hard into his chin. Spinning his head towards the backseat, my knuckles throbbing from the impact. A hit so clean that it surprises even me.