Take Me Once, I’ll Bleed You Twice

BEATRICE

Experiencing new things was suppose to be good for you, but Beatrice doubted that could be applied to her current situation.

It all began when she was grabbed off the street and thrown into a waiting vehicle. How it would end was anyone’s guess but, with the way things were going, she didn’t think it would be in her favour.

The two men who’d grabbed her were large, over six feet tall, and broad — packed with muscles and enough testosterone to shrink their balls to the size of a pea. Beatrice debated on saying this out loud, but decided it wouldn’t be worth the effort.

She was tossed in the back and the men took the front seats for themselves. Fine with her; this gave her more room to maneuver.

Sliding across the back seat until she was behind the driver, Beatrice reached forward, arms on either side, and snagged the seat belt the driver was wearing. With it firmly in her grasp, she pressed her knees against the seat and leaned backwards. The belt slid into place across the man’s throat, digging into her fingers as she applied as much pressure as she could manage.

“What the fuck,” the guy on the passenger’s side swore as he half turned in his seat and, with a flick of his wrist, smacked Beatrice in the shoulder.

The pain was sharp, causing her to lose her grip on the seat belt. She fell onto the back seat, glaring at the one who’d struck her. ‘What the fuck’ was right. He’d barely put any force behind the blow and yet Beatrice could already tell her shoulder would be sore for at least a few days because of that one blow.

The driver coughed a few times, massaging his throat. “Dammit. Didn’t expect that.” He glanced in the rearview mirror, glaring at her as she pulled herself back up. “He said not to hurt her; but if she does that again…”

“I’m not done yet,” she muttered, pushing her body between the two front seats and grabbing the wheel.

“No you don’t,” the passenger growled, his massive hand clamping itself onto the same shoulder he’d struck. Beatrice gritted her teeth against the pain — the man’s grip was insane — and gave the wheel a sharp jerk. The sound of tires screeching met her ears as the force of the turn she’d caused threw her against the driver’s seat.

“Fuck’s sake,” the driver shouted as he tore her hands from the wheel and worked to gain control of the vehicle. Horns were blaring as they whipped across two lanes of traffic, leaving Beatrice with a sense of satisfaction. There was more where that came from. She was only getting started.

“Enough of this,” the passenger stated as he grabbed Beatrice’s shoulder for the third time. She struggled against his grip, but there was no breaking free.

She watched as he opened the glove compartment with his free hand and pulled out a syringe. The sight of it made her struggled twice as hard. “Don’t you dare bring that near me,” she yelled, her nails digging into his arm. It was like he couldn’t feel pain, because no matter how hard she dug and scratched, drawing blood more times than not, he didn’t so much as flinch.

The pinch of the syringe as he pushed it into her neck was soon followed by pressure as he emptied its contents into her body. Within seconds, the world began to fade and he released Beatrice from his grip. The last thing she saw was the fucker’s smug face before everything went black.

—

Consciousness came back in drips and drabs. At first, Beatrice could only feel the movement of the vehicle beneath her, but it didn’t take long for her brain to kick in and remind her of what had happened. Her body, on the other hand, still felt sluggish, which didn’t leave her with many options. It didn’t mean she was about to give up, but she would need to think of something other than making a break for it.

The men didn’t talk as they drove, leaving Beatrice to her thoughts as she played possum; surprise was her only weapon against men twice her size. Let them think she was still drugged.

By the time they came to a stop, the sluggish feeling in her limbs was nearly gone. This gave her some hope. They might believe she was still feeling the effects of whatever drug had been in the syringe, causing them to lower their guard.

The door at her feet opened and Beatrice wasn’t happy to see a new face. He was as jacked as the other two assholes and just as tall. Was everyone involved in her abduction part of some muscle head cult?

The new guy leaned in, bracing a hand against the door frame as he peered down at her, a curious look on his face. “So this is—“ He wasn’t able to finish his sentence. His guard hadn’t been up, which was how Beatrice managed to slam her foot into his groin, following it up with a kick to his face. She felt his nose break through her shoe, causing a smirk to spread across her face. No matter how big the man, a hit to the balls — and nose — was always enough to make him rethink his life choices.

Before she had a chance to do anything more, the door near her head opened and rough hands grabbed her, throwing her out of the vehicle and onto the grass.

Hitting the ground knocked the wind out of her lungs, but Beatrice was quick to recover. She rolled over, scrambling to get to her feet. The third guy, the one she’d gotten two good hits on, slammed into her before pinning her against the ground. His face contorted as his jaw seemed to elongate. No, it didn’t ‘seem’ to do anything — it did elongate. Fur began to sprout from what skin she could see as the muscles underneath bulged. The sound of ripping fabric was accompanied by a growl that rumbled out of the man as whatever was going on with him continued.

The hands pressing her arms into the ground shifted into huge paws, with claws that looked like they could easily rip Beatrice in half with ease.

She was unable to move, her body frozen in place, as this man turned into a massive, terrifying wolf. His fur was a dark brown, the same colour his hair had been, but the eyes… his eyes had turned from brown to a piercing gold that made Beatrice second guess her earlier actions.

This wolf-man… person — fuck, was this a werewolf? Were werewolves actually real? — barred his teeth, pointed things as long and thick as her thumb, and placed more of his weight on her arms.

Someone crouched near her head, but Beatrice was unable to look away from the beast who pinned her in place, terrified that he’d eat her if she so much as blinked. “Keep fighting us, and I will let him have his way with you — I don’t care whose mate you are,” said the driver as he leaned in close. “Understood?”

“Y-yes,” she somehow managed to say, not daring to nod.

“Say it.”

“I-I… I un-understand,” she whispered.

“Good girl,” he told her, and she almost bristled at the condescension in his voice. “Enough, Tobias. Let her up.”

The werewolf looked away from Beatrice to stare at the driver. The beast let out a snort before backing away.

“Get up,” the driver ordered, but Beatrice’s body was still frozen in place as her brain tried to wrap itself around what had just happened.

“Werewolf?” She squeaked, eyes moving to look at the driver, who was annoyed she wasn’t doing as ordered.

“Come on,” he grunted, grabbing her arm and forcing her back onto her feet. “Inside.”

Beatrice looked up at the old but well maintained manor she was being forced to walk towards. Ivy blanketed a fair portion of its walls as it crept to the roof three storeys above; it was a lot of ivy.

“Move,” the driver ordered as he gave her a shove to force her into motion.

It took a few steps before Beatrice’s body understood it was no longer in danger — for now — and loosened up enough to walk like normal.

Once inside, they took a couple turns down halls before they came to a stop in front of an ornate door. It was thick and heavy, made of solid wood with metal embedded throughout its surface; the muscle head driver had to use his muscles open it, so great was its weight. Beatrice wondered what the point of such a pretty door was, especially when she saw what lay beyond.

Stairs leading down came into view, and she felt her heart sink just a bit. Every horror and thriller movie she’d ever watched flashed before her eyes as she was given another shove. “Calm down,” she muttered to the impatient asshole  as she stepped through the doorway.

Fear was making her heart race but, more than that, was the simmering anger under the surface of her skin. Beatrice was pissed. She was going to make sure they came to regret grabbing her, no matter what it took.