Chapter 4

• With a small parting of her mouth, the pill slipped inside, and he offered her a drink of water, quenching the relentless thirst that had taken hold of her throat.
• "Thank you," she whispered, gratitude echoing in her voice.
• "Goodnight," he replied, his gaze lingering for just a moment before he moved away.
• ......
• Dahlia awoke with a dull ache in her belly and the unmistakable sensation of heat radiating beneath her. Sweat glistened on her forehead and every inch of her face; she knew, without a doubt, that it wasn't summer. The new year had just begun, ushering in the frigid grip of winter where snowflakes danced outside her window. Yet, despite the chill that enveloped the world beyond, she felt as though she was burning from within.
• Suppressing a groan of discomfort, she slowly rose to her feet, clutching her throbbing stomach, which fluttered uncomfortably at the thoughts of what had transpired the previous night. She was acutely aware of the consequences of her actions, recognizing that it would hurt; however, the pain, oddly enough, was manageable.
• But a sense of confusion clouded her mind. She struggled to recall much of the night following her session; the last thing she distinctly remembered was uttering a brief, hasty "thank you" before darkness swallowed her—she could not recall walking back home, let alone climbing into her bed.
• Something felt decidedly off. An uneasy instinct tugged at her senses, sharpening her awareness.
• "Mom?" she called out, hoping to find her mother at home. If she had returned last night, surely she would have seen Dahlia in her current state. But there was no response. "Mom?" she tried again, this time pulling her phone from her pocket to call her.
• The house was enveloped in a heavy silence, confirming her lingering suspicion that her mother was absent, which meant she hadn't come home the previous night either.
• "Hey, honey! Good morning," her mother finally answered, relief washing over Dahlia. "How are you?"
• "I'm fine. Were you here last night?" Dahlia lowered herself onto the floor, but the moment she did, she sprang back up, stifling a quiet squeal at the sudden discomfort.
• "No, I had work. I mentioned it, remember? I'm on all night shifts this week. I'll be back in an hour, so if you're home, I'll see you then." Her mother's voice sounded weary.
• "Oh, okay, sure. I'll be out but please try to get some rest. Goodbye," Dahlia managed to choke out, biting down on her lip as the reality of her situation hit her—what a night it had been.
• The moment Dahlia ended the call with her mother, she hissed in frustration at herself, instinctively rubbing the sides of her thighs where the discomfort felt most acute. The imprint of his hand lingered on her skin, a reminder of the way he had held her down throughout the night. While she had found satisfaction in their encounter, the heat coursing through her body felt almost unbearable—actual fire igniting her senses. Her mind buzzed with a fervent energy, and all she craved was a breath of fresh, cold air.
• After flinging open her windows, she felt a slight relief, though it was still insufficient. She wondered if it was the lingering effects of her wolf, the pill he had given her, or perhaps something else entirely that was contributing to her current state.
• Determined to cool down, she pulled open the bathroom door and resolved to take a cold shower. As she inhaled deeply, the sharp scent of blood assaulted her senses. Whipping her head toward the glass, she screamed—an instinctive reaction that echoed through the space.
• "Oh, my God!" she exclaimed, slapping her hand over her mouth as she struggled to stifle her shock. The horror reflected back at her from the mirror was enough to send her into a panic.
• 'You are going to hell.'
• These ominous words were scrawled in a deep red substance that made her stomach drop—she could only think of one thing: blood. As the shock began to wear off, she grabbed a white cloth from the counter and wiped away the gruesome message, convinced that Hessa must have played a cruel prank on her, knowing she would be away for the night.
• Several minutes passed as her heartbeat eventually steadied, and she stepped into the cold shower. The remnants of the previous night's escapades were washed away along with the residual rush that had clung to her since morning.
• Her back had mostly healed, devoid of bruises or marks, but it was still sore. However, she noticed a few marks adorning her neck, chest, and legs. A thrill coursed through her when she touched them, igniting a desire for more. If only it could happen again.
• Dahlia doubted she would have that chance; the waiting list for the cell was notoriously long. Still, that wouldn't deter her from putting her name down.
• After wringing her hair in a towel, she picked up her phone and dialed Hessa's number, ready to confront her about the message on the mirror. After all, she had just experienced a night of passion—she certainly didn't deserve the notion of eternal damnation for it.
• With her hand resting on her hip, she waited impatiently until Hessa answered. "Did you do it? Of course, you did. You could have given me a warning. I nearly peed my pants!" she exclaimed, the frustration evident in her tone.
• "Did what?" Hessa replied, sounding genuinely confused and still half-asleep.
• Dahlia stopped her restless pacing, "What? You weren't at my house last night?"
• "No, why would I be?" Hessa's voice was sincere, which reassured Dahlia. Hessa was notoriously bad at lying and often slipped into sarcasm when she did, but that was absent now.
• "Where are you right now?" Dahlia asked while dragging her bag and car keys across the floor.
• "Home. In bed. Want to join? I doubt it, considering you had quite the fascinating night," Hessa chuckled, amusement lacing her voice.
• "Yeah, I'm totally coming to join you," Dahlia replied, her sarcasm punctuating the conversation.
• She locked the door behind her and drove over to Hessa's house, seeking refuge. Until she discovered who had been in her room the previous night, she had no intention of returning home. Thoughts raced through her mind as she tried to remember the previous night, questioning whether she had left her home or changed her clothes before falling asleep.
• Her mother had been out all night, working her usual shift as a nurse, which typically ended around eight or nine in the morning. The nagging question loomed in her mind: if her mother wasn't home, then who was?
• Upon arriving at Hessa's place, Dahlia pressed the doorbell, and it swung open just moments later. Hessa, groggy and bleary-eyed, rubbed her eyes and let out a low groan at the sight of her.