Midnight Bride

I jolt awake, gasping for breath as I remember bits of strange words from my dream. They echo in my mind, like a distant past, but they quickly slip through my fingers like sand.

I’ve woken up like this before, and I expect it to happen again.

My heart pounds in my chest as the last of the images go, only to leave behind an ache in my chest that will last for the rest of the entire day. The scent of the tiny attic fills my lungs. It is dusty, stale, and a reminder of where I am.

My alpha’s attic is the worst place to live, but this is where I have been since I was twelve years old. When my parents died, I was only seven. For five years, I was passed between other pack members’ houses. Despite kindness from some, I felt unwanted, like I was a burden they wanted rid of as quickly as possible. Then, when I turned twelve, the alpha said he would take me since so many others had rejected me from their homes. I was shut away into this attic under the guise of protecting me and taking me under his wing.

At first, I was excited and believed him. I thought it was for my safety, though I didn’t know what I needed protection from. I was young and naive, thinking he only meant the best for me.

Oh, how wrong I was.

He never cared for my safety. He wanted something from me, though I still don’t know what. His mind is a twisted place, and I have stopped trying to understand it since then.

I ease out of bed, careful to not let the floorboards creak beneath my weight. The alpha will be furious if I wake him or his precious daughter and wife. That is the last thing I want, but his wife’s fury is worse than his.

It has been a year since the last lashing I received from her, which makes me hopeful that it is over, but I can never be too careful. She turns quickly, like a snake, striking out before you even know what has happened. The least little thing will set her off and before I know it, I’m at the end of her claws.

“Valeria!”

A chill goes down my spine. Speaking of the witch… There she is now.

“Yes, madam. I’m coming.” The words tumble from my lips, but they taste bitter. Who on earth wants to be called madam? Oh, right. Her.

“Is that snark I hear in your tone? You know better than to talk to me that way, Valeria,” she says, keeping her tone sharp. The way she says my name makes my skin crawl.

“No, not at all, madam.”

Her footsteps echo up the stairway. I scramble away from the bed, throwing on my clothes before she reaches the doorway. If she sees me just getting out of bed, she’ll assume I have been lazy.