Clotted potatoes stuck in my throat when I tried to swallow. I tried again and they went down. The overladen plate of food mocked me. I didn’t want to eat. I wanted to go hide in my room, away from our dinner guests. I almost blanched just thinking the word guest. It didn’t describe the men sitting at the table with us at all.
Blake asked my stepfather, Richard, a question about their latest stock investment and I looked up dutifully as if I cared. Just as quickly, I looked back down at my plate like the meek little mouse Blake wanted me to be. I didn’t mind playing a meek part when sitting with these men. Blake didn’t give me trouble, but the other ten men with him often did. Dinners went smoother if I kept my eyes on my plate.
Blake sat at one end of the table with my stepfather at the opposite end. I, unfortunately, always took the middle seat on the side with five chairs. It gave me more room than sitting on the side with six chairs. I would have rather sat next to Richard.
The six men opposite me stared at me through the entire meal. Every dinner, different men to stare at me. How many business associates did Blake really have? These dinners had been happening since my mother died four years ago. Once a month, every month. I hated them. I felt like a freak on display. Hey, come on in! Have dinner with the freaky girl who predicts the market and made us all rich. Don’t worry, she doesn’t bite. She’ll do exactly as I say.
I thought of my brothers sleeping in their beds, and forked another bite of potatoes into my mouth. Yep, I would do as Blake said. He’d made it painfully clear who he would punish if I didn’t.
One of the men across from me nudged my foot under the table. I didn’t look up. It would just play into whatever he planned. Probably, some lewd gesture. For business associates, as Blake usually introduced them, they dressed more like mill workers, wearing torn stained jeans, ragged shirts… sometimes unwashed too. I didn’t judge them by their appearance though. Their actions told me what I needed to know about them.
The man kicked me again, harder. I tucked my feet under my chair trying to avoid his long reach as Blake asked me a direct question.
“Are you trying to withhold your latest premonition, dear?” He sipped his wine watching me.
“You know I haven’t,” I said in a quiet, biddable voice meeting his gaze. If I tried keeping a premonition to myself, I got sick. First with just a niggling headache, but the longer I held the information inside, the worse the ache grew. Until finally, I broke down and started babbling the information with pain-filled tears.
“Sorry, Blake,” Richard said from down the table. “She gave me the information yesterday. When I went in today, I just invested what we discussed last night. I didn’t think you wanted me to bother you with it.”
I lowered my gaze to my plate again. A puppet, that’s all I was. Just then, the man across the table kicked me again. I looked up, eyes blazing with hate and whispered two words that sealed my fate - not, ‘thank you’ though it rhymed.
In a blur, Blake shot from his chair sailing toward me over the table. His hand curled around my throat and the momentum of his move carried me backward, lifting me up. My long skirt tore when it caught briefly on my tipping chair. Before I could blink, Blake slammed me against the wall, pinning me by my throat. My feet no longer touched the ground.
My stunned mind couldn’t comprehend what just happened. No one should be able to move that fast.
Barely breathing, I panicked, and fought to pry away his hands, forgetting to be meek. He laughed and squeezed a little harder. Behind him, Richard stood, but said nothing.
The calculated look in Blake’s eye reminded me of his expectation. Swearing at his “associate” hadn’t been a bright move. Still trying to wheeze in air, I stopped clawing at his hands and instead wrapped my hands around his forearm for support. His hold loosened and I gasped. The air burned, but I didn’t stop pulling it in.
All the men at the dinner table watched us, and the one who had kicked me, smirked.
“The time for niceties is at an end. We’ve amassed our fortune. It’s time for the next step. You will choose one of us and evolve your abilities as you were born to do.”
I barely heard his words. His teeth claimed my attention. As he spoke, they grew. Elongating. Already panicked because of the hand at my throat, my racing heart kicked into overdrive at the sight of his canines. His face changed slightly, his jaws expanding to accommodate his teeth.
He can’t be human. What is he?
He tightened his grip with his next words.
“You will allow each male here, and every male I bring from this night forward, to scent you. If we decide you are his mate, you WILL bite him and establish your claim.”
His hold loosened. Still gasping for air, I didn’t immediately register my feet again touched the ground. Bite one of them? He moved away from me, dropping his hand. His piercing gaze held me in place.
“Frank, since she offended you, you can go first.”