The Hunted (LGBT+)

Chapter 2: World Gone Mad

Parker

I'm not awake yet but I hear two foreign voices bickering.

"We should have moved him already." A voice comes to me through the darkness.

"And what? Risked him bleeding out?" Another voice asks. A low growl is followed by a light sigh, "I am sorry, future Alpha. I mean that moving him would have been risky. If he would have come back with other wolves, we may have had more trouble than we need."

"Right," The other voice says, "because he's a frail human."

"He's a human who handled himself against—"

"Do you feel that?" He asks, "I think he's waking up."

"Did you just say 'feel'?" The other voice asks.

The major headache I'm experiencing tells me that they are, in fact, right. I'm awake now. I try to remember what happened before now. I'm trying not to panic upon hearing two men talking about me while I'm unconscious.

The man turned into a wolf.

Now I'm trying to pretend I didn't see a man turn into a whole wolf after being attacked by another equally large wolf. I'm not amnesiac. It was one of the most frightening and embarrassing moments in my life. Of all the things to stop me, a fucking pole almost killed me.

I hesitate to open my eyes, knowing that opening my eyes could bring a new level of pain. I'm also in the presence of at least two men, one of which originated as wolf. I slowly open my eyes to see the ceiling above me. I turn slightly on the couch and see the Man from before.

You know, the man who magically stopped being a wolf.

I almost avert my eyes as he is standing near the entrance of the kitchen with absolutely no clothes on at all. Beside him is a man that appears to be more curious. The other Man is a bit smaller with darker skin. I can't place his ethnicity. I do know he has an accent of some sort.

The Man has a stylish, gelled hairstyle. His hair is managed in a very suave way. He's not manicured in any way besides his hair. It's very attractive. His dark eyes seem to regard me with suspicion now. He's wearing a ring on his left hand that is ornate. It's large and a bit gaudy. It doesn't go with his leather jacket.

I look around my apartment before swinging my feet over the side of my bright yellow sofa. I feel my naked feet touch the brown carpet and I notice that everything feels real. None of this is a dream.

I should be more disbelieving but I'm practical. This is not to be confused with logical. There is very little logic in any of this. I believe what I know. I know that at least one of these large men is a werewolf, I know we're in my apartment alone and I know how to survive.

I try to lift myself off the couch but only fall back.

"Rest." The Larger Man says. He's more commanding and a bit pretentious for some reason.

I push myself up and quickly catch my balance. The Man glares at me with a raised eyebrow. I move out of the room and head down the hallway and into my bedroom. I enter the closet to find a mirror.

I see a lovely gash across my very shiny skin. I marvel at how much the honey color clashes with the dried blood on my forehead. I don't go outside as often as I should. I can see shades of my parents in me. My Mother's larger nose and my Father's off-kilter hairline. I always figured I'd lose my hair. I think he did. I hope I don't. I can see how dark my eyes are. They usually darken when I'm angry or annoyed.

The gash seems to be closing slightly and is not bleeding anymore.

That's extremely strange.

"You're alright."