Whispers in the Blood

Chapter 4

I stood before the King. Well, more like laid. I was a bloody mess. Pools of blood forming on the floor of the throne room. Contrasting against the white marbled floors. My legs were shackled in chains. The king held no expressions as he stared at me in thought. The Queen looked disgusted. Her icy blue eyes trying to pierce into my soul.

"Get this mess off my floor and into the prison," the Queen snapped.

The werewolves began to drag me away. My legs could not move even if I wanted them to, they were in so much pain they felt numb. I got hostile glances from the wolves throughout the room as I was dragged out and through the hallways.

Hate, disgust, aggressive looks. It didn't' surprise me as the place that held the only royalty of werewolves. They were above all packs. Therefore, they held high expectations and had no sympathy for others.

I was thrown into a prison cell, the floor cold stone. No windows so the place was claustrophobic and eerie. There were gruffy looking wolves on each side of me. Fortunately, I was one of the few that had cell to myself.

"God damn. Someone got themselves into one hell of mess, eh?" one of the locked up wolves taunted.

The other wolves laughed. I only had energy to lay there, enjoying the cooling surface on my wounds. My eyelids began to weigh heavy as they flickered into a pitch of blackness.

---

"Hey, pretty she-wolf," I heard a strange voice call.

"She might be dying," another man laughed.

I slowly opened my eyes. There were a few guards outside the cell standing duty. Two man sat a table quietly discussing something. One was the man who originally attacked me and drug me here. I tilted my head, noticing that the wolves in each cell beside me were very focused on me.

Chills ran down my spine. I was surrounded by the worse werewolf prisoners. This was the prison the worst of the worst got sent to. I laid on my stomach, feeling that I was healing slower than normal. I pool of blood was formed where I was laying on my side. I gazed at it curiously. Enthralled by the deep maroon color, swirling, and mixing with grey stone below.

"Shit. She a crazy one?" I heard a prisoner laugh.

I refused to move my gaze. He had come if there was spilled blood, but what of my own spilled blood?

"My love, you need to move on," I jerked my head up as he stood there across the pool of blood.

I whimpered, saddened by his words. I wanted to be with him. I want to be with you.

"This is the last time I visit you..." he paused, "I love you. I will always be with you in here," he laid his hand over his chest.

Don't leave me forever, I whimpered, sitting up.

"I'm forever in your heart baby," he whispered.

Please don't go, I whined. Then he was gone. No. No, no, no. Anger fueled my veins. The fire spreading throughout my body as I shook with rage. Growling at the pool of blood. My claws dug and scratched against the stone floor.

"Fuck. She is crazy," a prisoner exclaimed.

"Prince Gus, Prince Ezekiel. She's acting pretty weird in there," I vaguely heard a guard.

"Yeah, it's called she's fucking crazy. Nuts!" another prison laughed darkly.

I snapped my head around. There he was a scruffy middle aged scum bag. Shaggy light brown hair with caramel eyes. He had a short beard and was too skinny. I lunged at him through the bar cells, bouncing off. Snarling and snapping, I lunged again trying to get anything. I wanted to kill, I wanted to bite something.

"You think you can get us?" An older man said darkly on the cell on the opposite side. I lunged at him, trying to get anyone that got close enough. I could not. So, I bit onto the bars. Biting as hard as I could until I could feel pain. Letting go, I bit down again.

"Jesus Christ. What happened to her?" I heard a guard say.