Claimed by the Beast(11)

Her hands trembled and one of the bags fell to the floor. The oranges  she had bought rolled out into the living room. She could hear its  ragged breath now and in the next moment, she felt the heat from its  body. She turned. It was as though everything was happening in slow  motion. Like she was in a movie. Except that she wasn't because when she  turned, she saw it as clear as day.

No sound came from her but she did step backward, dropping the other bag  as she reached for the door knob, intending to close the door, knowing  it would not keep the …  thing …  out. She stared at it, all nine feet of  the creature. It was terrible, the most terrifying sight she had ever  seen. She trembled all over as she took in its long limbs covered by  patches of dark hair, its thick body and neck, its face, its strange,  strange face with the eyes that looked as trapped within as she felt  standing in her doorway.

It stared back at her all along, its brown eyes on her almost pleading  with her in one moment, completely animal the next. The creature made a  sound and momentarily showed its teeth, breaking her out of her stupor  and forcing her to act. She slammed the door closed and took the phone  out of her pocket as she ran for the basement, for the safe room there.  Her hands shook too hard to do more than one thing at a time, and it had  broken through the front door and was on her heels when she reached the  basement door. She managed to open it though but couldn't get it closed  after her. He was only a step behind and by the time they reached the  bottom, she felt its giant hand on her shoulder and screamed a scream  that bounced off the walls and could have woken the dead. She turned  fast and pushed its hand from her but managed to back herself into the  wall. Her phone dropped to the floor but she didn't even glance at it,  she couldn't take her eyes from the creature. It couldn't stand straight  up in her basement; it was too tall and had to crouch down but it was  no less menacing. Perhaps more so in fact.

She was out of space and it stepped closer, taking up more of it. It  made a strange sound, a quieter sound than she would have expected from  such an animal. But she realized in that moment what it was that was so  strange, so frightening about this thing. Its eyes-they were  intelligent, almost human eyes. But this creature wasn't a shifter. It  couldn't be. It looked too …  different. Too terrible.

It stared at her then reached out a hand to touch her face.

She gasped, her entire body shaking as it ran a finger over her cheek,  her chin. It brought its face closer to hers and she had to close her  eyes. It was too frightening to look at it. Tears wet her cheeks and she  listened as it inhaled close to her ear, her neck. She felt its breath  on her but when the hot tongue licked her face, she felt her knees give  way and crumpled to the floor, passing out from fear of the monster  standing before her.                       
       
           



       





Chapter Eight





When Lance woke up, he was lying at the top of the stairs on his back, naked.

"Fuck!" he muttered, sitting upright, running a hand through his hair.  He looked at his hands and was glad to find no blood on them. Turning to  his bedroom door, he found it slightly ajar, the lock and handle both  having been ripped from it. He closed his eyes and took in a deep  breath, trying to remember.

Last night when he had shifted, he had been alert for more of it than he  had when it had happened in the past. He remembered the pain clearly,  this time more than as simple memory. In fact, his head throbbed a quiet  beat even as he sat here now. He went downstairs to get aspirin as he  went through the rest of the events.

The tearing of clothes, the look of his hands and arms as they changed  before his eyes. They had grown longer, thick tufts of hair covering his  flesh. His legs too. All of his clothing had been torn from him and for  a moment, he entertained the idea of stripping off next time he felt  this happening.

He shook his head and snorted an exhale. What a trivial detail.

Finding the aspirin in the cupboard, he swallowed two with a glass of  water, noting for the first time the unfamiliar scent in the house. He  had smelled it upstairs too where it had been stronger, but hadn't paid  attention. His senses were all heightened since the injection. This was  probably just another new scent he had picked up as his sense of smell  grew more acute.

He set the glass of water down and unlocked the basement door to go to  the lab and watch the video from last night. He would at least see what  had happened to him, what he had changed into.

Settling behind his desk, he switched on his computer and brought up the  camera. When he did, he narrowed his eyes and looked again at the  screen. He checked his watch, checked the time on the video. It was  recording now. While he watched. It was filming the girl who lay  motionless on his bed.

Lance stared in horror at the screen. What had he done?



* * *



Rachel opened her eyes and blinked several times. She turned her head,  looking around the unfamiliar, messy room. She sat up slowly,  remembering what had happened the night before. The last thing she had  seen was the creature-the thing that seemed to have sought her out. It  had been almost gentle with her and there wasn't anything about the  creature that looked gentle. She remembered its eyes, soft eyes, human  eyes.

Panic struck and she swung her legs off the bed. It was a shifter, but  it was different than Marcus or Elijah. It was somehow wrong. She patted  her pockets, instinctively checking for her phone but remembering it  had dropped to the floor in the basement last night when she had been  running to get into the safe room. There was a cell phone on the bedside  table. She picked it up and dialed Elijah as she walked quietly to the  door, not sure if she was alone, betting she wasn't. If the animal was  in the house with her, she wouldn't be able to escape it on her own. She  peeked out into the hallway, but when she heard the sound of footsteps,  she retreated back into the bedroom just as the call connected and she  heard it ring.

She listened as footsteps slowly climbed the stairs and backed up, going to the window, trying to open it with one hand.

Another ring.

"Pick up. Pick up!"

"Bad idea," a voice said as it grabbed the phone out of her hand.

Rachel screamed, not sure what she was expecting to see. When she  turned, she saw a man. She looked at him, her back pressed against the  window, her hands gripping the sill. He was a normal, human man, almost  as tall as Elijah, with a similar build. He stared at her, studying her  just as she studied him. She had calmed a little when she had turned and  found this man; she had been expecting the creature from the night  before.

"Where am I? Who are you?" she asked, letting go of the window sill and  taking a step to the side, giving herself just a few inches of space  between them but not willing to back up, not willing to show fear.

He held out his hand. "I'm Professor Lance Weston," he began. "And you are?"

She looked at his hand, then back at him. "How did I get here?"

He smiled. "That is quite the mystery, isn't it?" he asked. "Your name?"

"Rachel."

"Rachel what?"

"Rachel Maren," she said. When she still refused to shake his hand, he dropped it. "Where am I?"

"What do you remember of last night?" he asked, ignoring her question.

"Nothing," she began, knowing she should lie. Play it off as if she  remembered nothing at all and maybe he would let her go. "I must have  had too much to drink. Did we …  um …  do …  anything?" she asked, trying to  look shy and embarrassed, gauging the distance between him and the door,  wondering if she could outrun him.                       
       
           



       

He studied her, searching her face for a while before taking a step closer, his expression hardening a little.

"So you don't remember anything?" he asked.

She knew from the tone of his voice that he didn't believe her but she  shook her head anyway. "Listen," she began, looking at her watch. "I'm  going to be late for work. I'll just go … "

"I don't think so," he said, trying for a smile that didn't quite work.

She took a step to the side but he took it with her, blocking her exit.

"Not before you have a cup of coffee with me," he tried that smile again.

"I don't drink coffee," she said for some reason. "I called my friend, he's on his way."

"On his way where? Where are you?" the man asked, taking another step.

Rachel turned and reached for the lamp by the bedside but before she had  even picked it up, he grabbed hold of her wrist, stopping her, turning  her so her back was to him and holding her there.