The Mating Rules

Hadley’s POV

I stare at the unmoving body of my vampire friend for what feels like a lifetime, my fingers gripping at my hair, tugging the short strands angrily. I know he isn’t dead and that he’ll come round at some point, but I don’t have a choice but to leave him here and i’m already aware that there is a very good chance that our captor’s men will find him before he has a chance to wake up again. The man, who helped me to escape when he could have just left me behind, and got himself to safety, could very well rouse from his unconscious state and find himself right back where he was, in that damn cell, alone and suffocating from the darkness.

I growl loudly, the sound reverberating up and down the corridor, bouncing of the walls. I rub a hand down my face in frustration, we were supposed to do this together, leave this Goddess forsaken place as a team, and protect each other until we were free. He got me this far and now I’m about to leave him behind, what kind of friend am I? But even with my unwavering self-depreciation, I know I don’t have any choice, I can’t carry the man and defend myself from whoever might be waiting on the other side of that door.

Clambering to my knees, I crawl over to the Vampire and roll him onto his side, brushing the long hair out of his face as I try to make him as comfortable as I can on the hard floor.

‘I’m so sorry my friend’ I murmur, ‘I don’t want to leave you here, but I can’t take you with me. I promise though, I’ll find my way out and come back for you, I will not leave you behind.’

Pushing up to my feet, I give the unconscious Vampire one last fleeting look before I head back toward the stairs and climb up to the top, where the door that hopefully leads to my freedom is waiting. Reaching out tentatively, I turn the handle slowly, my breath caught in my chest as the door moves toward me, allowing light to flow in from the next room.

I peer through the gap between the door and the frame, my eyes widening in disbelief when I am confronted with a lavishly decorated hallway. Antique furniture lines the walls and an ornate chandelier hangs from the ceiling. The flooring is marble tiles and I’m pretty sure that the hands of the grand father clock that ticks gently in the far corner are real gold.

Where the hell am I? All ideas of prisons and guards fly out of my head, this is no damn prison that I’ve ever seen.

I glance around the open area, but the whole building seems to be deserted, other than the clock, I can’t hear a single sound.

Opening the door wider, I slide out, my shoes scratching against the floor as I move as quietly as I can toward one of the doors that line the hallway. The first is locked and after a few fruitless jiggles of the handle I move on to the next. Door after door refuses to budge until I reach the far end where a large mahogany door stands dominantly in front of me.

Turning the handle, I’m surprised when the door gives way easily and I inch it open, listening for any sounds that might tell me who the hell has me.

The silence is deafening, sending my frazzled nerves into hyper drive. Seriously, I’d rather have the sound of an enemy walking around down there than this overbearing nothing. Noise gives me an idea of what I’m walking into, silence means I could be walking into a trap and not even know it.

With no other choice, I push open the door, groaning when I find the way forward unlit, another black room that I’ve got to feel my way through.

With a growing dread in my chest, I feel around beside the door for a light switch but luck isn’t on my side, and I’m stuck traversing the open area in the semi dark.

Sending up a prayer to the Goddess that this isn’t going to lead me to another set of cells, I walk into the dimness, closing the door behind me just in case anyone comes out of one of the other rooms and finds it odd that this door is open. With my hands in front of me, I move away from the light filtering through the open doorway. I turn left as I enter, using my hands to run along the walls, taking small steps as I feel out the floor for obstacles. As my eyes get used to the gloom, I find that the room itself isn’t that large. A few items decorate the walls, paintings of what I think might be various landscapes that I have no doubt cost more than our pack house is worth.

Inching carefully around the walls, I reach the corner and continue my exploration down the next wall until my hand runs over the rough material of a door. Using my fingers, I caress the wood until I find a door knob that I turn and pull open slightly. The space behind is just as dark as the room I’m in and I quickly pull the door wider and move inside, almost falling face first as my foot catches on a slab of something at ankle height. Flailing my arms to regain my balance, my hand slaps a curved flat thing beside me and I grab hold instinctively, righting myself.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

Running my hand up the strange waist height object, I find that it moves upwards. Testing out the slab at my feet, I step up, feeling around with my toes to find another slab. It’s a set of stairs I realise, leading upward, and from the way that the bar beside me curves, I’m pretty sure that it spirals around.

Moving upward, I flinch at the clang as my foot hits each step, the noise vibrating around me in the confined space.

Finally I reach the top where yet another door stands between me and hopefully a way out. I twist the handle, readying myself to slam the door again if I don’t like what is on the other side.

Light slices through the stairwell, lighting up the metal spiral staircase I just walked up. The room on the other side is like a large foyer with huge glass windows lining one side, heavy drapes framing each pane.

A table sits in the centre of the room, a large bouquet of flowers adorning the centre, vibrant colours cascading out of the crystal vase, obviously my captor enjoys flaunting his wealth.

Large oil paintings line the inside wall, each one showing a broad shouldered man, I assume it’s portraits of the family that has owned this place over the years. The brush strokes, clothing worn by the subject, and style of each frame tell me that there are many years between each sitting but the man in each painting looks eerily similar.

Halfway down the wall there is an open brickwork design that allows a person to view the next room through the gaps in the cement tiles.

I can hear a low voice, the first voice I’ve heard since I came out of the labyrinth of the dungeons I have been kept in.

Moving silently over the carpeted floor, I steal my way to the decorative wall that separates me from whoever is talking.

Kneeling down, I press my face to the elaborately designed blocks, trying to see into the next room.

My eyes sweep over the large chamber surprised to find it’s an office. There is an ostentatious desk to the far left, situated in front of a large window that I can just make out the top of a skyline at the bottom of the panes. A large, leather chair is tucked behind it and the top has stacks of files that look a lot like our Alpha’s business files back home. So is this guy a business man? I assume if it is the warlock that he must have his finger in a lot of pies business wise. He’s spent a long time alive, which would explain the extravagant surroundings and the pretentious pictures he’s had painted of himself over the centuries.

My gaze continues to search the room but my view is blocked by an oriental screen that is being used as a room divide.

Huffing out a breath of annoyance, I strain my hearing to try and catch what is being said.

‘. . Maybe that one can protect her from the demons? I mean, after all, he didn’t just give up when he was taken. Oh no, that werewolf has tried everything in his power to get back to his mate. Done a fair bit of damage to my men in his attempts to get free.’ The voice that is speaking is silky smooth but has a bite like acid, the curl of excitement around his words shows that he’s enjoying the reaction he’s getting from the person he’s talking too.

‘Maybe she’ll realise that her true potential can’t be reached until she rids herself of both of you. Either way, our dear little Spirit Wolf is going to have to make a decision . . ‘ My chest seizes at those words, Spirit Wolf! He’s talking about Jamie-Lee and if that is the case, then I know who is with him.

My heart rate picks up, hammering in my chest as I try to calm myself, breathing deeply. If he has Caden as well as me then does he also have Jamie-Lee? Is she here, being held captive? Goddess, has he got her in one of those cells in the dungeon and I walked past her without realising?

My panic is clawing up my throat at the thought of my Mate lying on the hard, rat infested concrete floor, most likely chained to the ground as I was.

I need to go back, I need to check and see if she is there! I turn around, my mind only focused on reaching my mate, saving her. I don’t even really register that someone is behind me, arms raised above their head.

I blink up at the shadow, my brain trying to register who it is standing over me as their arms swing down and something hard and blunt slams into the side of my skull.

‘Sorry, my friend’ comes Zenith’s quiet voice from beside me as I slump over dazedly. ‘I had a job to do, I was promised something I couldn’t turn down to get you here.’

My eyes roll in my head as I try to focus on the Vampire who is crouching down beside me, spots of b***d marring his clothes. ‘Why?’ I manage to slur out against the pounding in my head.

Zenith smiles sadly, ‘he holds the key to me being accepted my friend’ he replies. ‘For what it’s worth, I did like you, but you don’t make a deal with this devil and renege, not if you want to keep seeing the stars. I almost messed up, it was a panic to wake up and fid you gone, damn b***d l**t, I thought I could handle myself but, it’s been way to long since I fed, I couldn’t resist an all you can eat buffet.’

‘You . . . A*s . . . hole’ I mutter drunkenly, wanting nothing more than to sit up and punch him with everything I’ve got.

Zenith chuckles as he nods, ‘that I am’ he agrees before lifting his arm again, the glint of the solid gold candle stick he’s holding, shining in the light before he brings it down on my head again and I fall into unconsciousness.