Little Red - part eight
Disclaimer: This is extremely adult! Enjoy.
The child was growing surprisingly fast, but he was still her baby, making it painful for Emily to live with the knowledge that she was leaving him. Adrian was fit and stumbling around at six months old, his deep chestnut hair curling and her fat little cheeks pink. His skin was pale like his mothers, and though he looked for the most part human, he already had a wolf's temper.
It was staggering to see Marquis around the child, sitting be the fire and playing with him as he was now. Adrian was on his feet, taller than a human child as he hobbled uncertainly around his sire, giggling to himself at his feat. The pair were in their own little world, unaware of the woman in their lives falling apart at the seams as she forced herself to turn away from the scene.
This was not her home. This was not her life.
She told herself that over and over as she moved through the house as silent as she could, avoiding the servants as she went. No longer would she be a broken slave. Her jaw clenched as she passed one of the other women and she turned quickly away in response, leaving her be. Good. Let them sidestep her. It would make this even easier.
Without waiting, she simply slipped out one of the back doors. No looks back, no last words, otherwise she would fall. What words could she say anyway to the child she was abandoning that wouldn't tell her Master what she was doing? What good would it do even if she didn't tip off Marquis? She was still abandoning her child. Her beautiful little son...
No! She practically snarled it in response to her own thoughts. There was no sabotaging this plan, no regrets. This had to happen, or she would never been her own woman.
As she walked the quiet streets, she lifted the hood of her cloak over her dark hair and palmed the amulet Jezebel had given her, having stored it in her bodice. Since she gave birth, Marquis hadn't touched her much, wanting to give her time to recover before using her body, meaning that her bodice was a surprisingly good hiding spot for what she needed, though it had almost betrayed her earlier that week. He'd wanted to rut, but she had the note in her bodice, the note that told her the time and place. Thankfully, she'd managed to keep at bay by claiming she was too exhausted to rut, and he'd let her be.
Now she looked down at the small silver piece that was supposed to buy her safety in a tavern, lifting her hand to her breast were the note lay safe. As it was in the wolven language, and odd scrawling text, she couldn't read it, but she'd been promised it was the key to her safety. The coin and the note, and she would have a place to rest until she was escorted out of the city and to a relatively safe distance away. From there, she would be on her own, but if she failed arriving home after that, she could at least die a happy, free woman. No more fucking, no more touching, no more orders.
Freedom.
She pulled the hood down lower over her head as she moved away from the large houses and towards the slums, growing nervous and excited as she went. All she had to do was make it to the inn and she would be more or less home free.
There were very few wolves out at that time of night, some drunken and others simply wanting to get where they were going without issue. No one bothered her and no one challenged her, not wanting to make trouble that they could avoid. As the streets changed for the worse, less wolves were in the streets, and the ones that were, were either drunk or homeless, huddling around small fires with pieces of meat they'd hunted themselves. She slipped past unnoticed, silent and ignored.
The sign of the inn moved listlessly on its post above the door, and though she couldn't read what it said, she recognized it but the picture it showed that was as tired as the rest of the worn wood building. A sudden wash of anxiety crashed over her, but she shoved it away, refusing to allow it to cripple her chance at freedom. There was nothing to fear as she watched the chipped paint depicting a grinning set of fangs on the sign, so she lifted her chip, dragged a deep breath into her lungs, and pushed her way into the inn.
Wolves were everywhere. The main floor, consisting of a bar and many seats, was ripe with the musky, dirty scent of the wolves that she nearly wrinkled her nose in disgust. Few noticed her at first, but quickly most of the wolves had quieted and turned to stare at the girl that went up to the counter, pale and pretty, and slipped a note with a coin to the barkeep. Silence reigned as he read what she gave him, and the look on his scarred face told her that something wasn't right. After a long moment, he leaned back, his dark eyes assessing her, then smirked looking at the nearest table.
They exchanged words that she didn't understand, a rough, snarling conversation in the language of the wolves, and as they spoke, the rest of the inn tensed. She watched, her skin paling further as realization began to dawn on her, and every warning her Master had given her about this terrible area of the city came back to her.
They came at her in the blink of an eye, first the nearest wolves after the barkeep finished his conversation, then others. She screamed in terror, making a desperate run for the door that was cut short as a heavy wolf tackled her face-first to the dirty floor. Though she knew from experience that fighting wouldn't save her, she still clawed and kicked, yanking at fur until a paw suddenly smashed down on her hand with a sickening crunch. Tears sprang to her eyes as she clutched her broken hand to her body and the wolves tore at her clothes, snarling and snapping. Claws raked her nearly flawless skin both in haste, and in the need to see her pain even as the first male mounted her from behind. Another wolf forced her mouth open and rammed himself harshly down her throat as the tears began to fall fast and heavy down her cheeks.
She'd been raped before, but it had been nothing like this. This was an agonizing rutting as both claws and fangs broke her skin, drawing blood and whimpers of pain. Most of them seemed to like the pathetic sounds she made, some digging their claws harder into her delicate skin while others kicked and beat her. Brawls broke out as they jostled for position, and as soon as the first two were done, more replaced them, taking all her holes as they pleased until she was lubricated with blood and seed. One male made the mistake of knotting her, and she learned for the first time the ripping agony of a knot being forced free of her body while completely inflated. After that, it was simply a blur of torture a sobs, the beautiful young mother falling out of consciousness as her blood flowed and the wolves too her mercilessly.
She wasn't conscious when a guard came in and found her, males still on her but many gone by then, and she didn't wake as her Master entered the building in the fury of his life.
Marquis saw red when he heard the news from one of the guards. They'd been checking brawls that had broken out in a small inn down in the slums, only to find an unconscious and brutally beaten girl being raped that looked far too similar to his missing slave. He knew he shouldn't go in his condition, but that hadn't stopped him from leaving his home at a sprint.
It was her, his favorite little whore and the slave he loved as nearly a mate. If he'd been a weaker man, he would have been sick at the sight of her. She was in the same condition others had been that they'd found in these parts, slaves that were alone. Her body was torn apart by claws and teeth, an alarming amount of blood pooling around her broken body. It seemed as if there was likely an equal amount of sperm as there was blood, which made his sick and beyond furious.
He was angry at her and at himself, but mainly at the wolves that had done this to her. If those wolves had been there still, he would have personally torn at the throats of every last one, and challenged any who stood against him. Though he needed somewhere to focus his rage, there was nothing he could do but pace and wait as the guards brought doctors to attempt to save his slave.
She was on the edge, he could see, naked and broken and smelling of urine, likely having lost control of her body during the attack. It would be a shock if she survived the night, let alone long enough to tell him why she would do something so immensely idiotic.
A snarl of rage and worry bubbled from his muzzle, but before he had a chance to do anything foolish, the first of the doctors came. Surprisingly it was a human woman, middle aged and attractive in her own right, though at that point she looked tired and stressed. When she saw her patient, Marquis watched her gather herself before going to her and doing an assessment. He went to help automatically, having to know if the mother of his child would survive, or if she was going to fall from her injuries. The doctor looked up at him as she pressed her fingers against the vein in Emily's neck, feeling to see how fast her heart was beating. "If you want this girl to live, do what I say. I can promise you nothing, but I'll be damned if I'll let her die without a fight."
This surprised him even more, but immediately and with little thought, he nodded, his dark eyes meeting the woman's. "Tell me what to do. If you save her, I will give you whatever I can. Please. Don't let her die."