Trust: A Twisted Wolf Tale Read Online Free PDF Page B

I watched as her clawed fingers scraped along the trim, scratch marks littering the frame where a door obviously used to be. She seemed tense, like she was attempting to control herself with each and every move she made. Was she trying to keep from scaring me? Or was this just the way she built up the suspense, the adrenaline rush being part of the hunt?
    “You must be hungry,” she said as we continued down a long, unlit hallway, her voice deep and rich… coming out more like a seduction than a warning. Either way, I was still the victim—I knew that much. My boots hitting the hardwood floor were sluggish in comparison to the rapid beating of my heart, which had actually slowed significantly since my first run-in with her.
    Turning into a large space, my captor flicked on a light switch, causing the sound of the florescent lights to hum, filling the silence of the night. With a jerky motion, she turned on me, glaring, searching… but for what?
    “Are. You. Hungry?” she asked, each word annunciated as if I were some sort of imbecile. It seemed like time was crawling at a snail’s pace because I could’ve sworn she mentioned something about hunger ages ago. Her eyes were fierce—a piercing gold that seemed to illuminate beneath the bright lights.
    I tried to swallow, my fear seeming to get stuck like a boulder in my throat, and shook my head. Food was the last thing on my mind at the moment, especially since now I was able to truly see my abductor—examine her features, her very beast-like features.
    Inching closer to me, she stared straight into my eyes. Our gazes locked, a war between wills. Did she expect me to cave? To cower in front of her like most of her victims would? While I knew I was scared—terrified even—I also knew I would die a man, standing on my own two feet.
    This compliant victim shit was over.
    My heart hammered in my chest more ferociously than before as her face came closer, her warm breath washing over me in waves of intimidating heat. Before I had any sense to back away, she snarled and said, “Well, I am.”
    This was it. She was hungry, and I was as good as dead.
    Before my fear could squeak from my mouth, the beast turned on her heel and walked in the opposite direction, her muscles tense and movements slow, methodical. A puff of air escaped my lungs as I watched her open a large fridge, her clawed fingers diligently removing some rather normal items.
    Ham, mayo, lettuce… bread.
    Was she making me a sandwich? Fatten me up before she decided to devour me? How sick was this woman?
    My eyes darted around the large kitchen, unease settling into my bones, my gaze catching on another single rose, the vase holding it upright just as vibrant as its ruby-red petals as it sat neatly in the center of the table. Something wasn’t quite right, but I just couldn’t place what. She should just get this over with already. I was almost angry she was drawing things out so long. She must’ve gotten off on torturing her victims, making us trust her just enough so that we didn’t see it coming—a false sense of security.
    Deciding I wouldn’t give her that satisfaction, I steeled my nerves and slowly walked toward her while she stood at a high island countertop and set the contents between us.
    “What’s all this?” I asked, my mind obviously unable to put two and two together. I really couldn’t think of anything else to say, so asking her what the frack she was up to seemed to be the best way to go.
    “You haven’t seen someone make a sandwich before?” I just stared at her. The more I tried to figure this beast out, the more confused I became. Her features seemed to soften just a tad, though not enough to really remove the fierceness from her tone. “You sure you don’t want one?” she asked, pointing a knife in the direction of the contents on the counter.
    I shook my head again, knowing if I put anything in my stomach right now, it would just come right back up. Nerves seemed to have