Pregnant After One Night With The Lycan By Kellie Brown
Chapter 88 Dorian’s Dream
Marco’s POV:
As my eyes attentively glance at the clock on the kitchen wall, I notice Tanya hasn’t returned home yet. I’ve been waiting for her, even brewed her a cup of tea that sits cold now on the table next to mine. Up to this point, I have been rather excited, warm, and bubbling with apprehension that she’d come home remembering what she planned to tell me.
But instead, now I’m slightly displaced. This is very unlike her. Tanya would message me if she is running late for whatever reason. My chair screeches back in protest as I rise to a stand, as my thoughts try to create a logical argument for her lateness.
But the logical conclusions can only last till around midnight. Now my heart races with uncertainty, she’s still not answering her phone and I know I need to kick into gear. I immediately call Oliver, tell him of my worries and that I want soldiers to be sent out in search of her.
Throughout the night Oliver and I go looking, going door to door asking if anyone’s seen her. We check all the places she might’ve gone. Vivian’s house, the perfume shop, the stores she likes. We ask everyone and anyone, and I continue to fear the worse as time continues to pass.
My chest tightens as each person we come across sadly says they haven’t seen her. Despite their promises to keep an eye out, I’m barely comforted. My head just spins with millions of a*s*sumptions of what might’ve happened to her, until finally a soldier runs up to me. “Someone said she was seen near Carol’s flower shop yesterday!”
We don’t hesitate to question the tip. Oliver and I rush to the area, and just as we near the mentioned shop, a wave of smells suddenly hits my nose. Not ignoring the instinct, I inhale deeply, and my wolf stirs in dire longing. I recognize her scent immediately, and hurry after it, Oliver follows me without question.
Eventually we find ourselves in a dark and narrow alley. And while no traces of a struggle can initially be seen, I notice a piece of metal glinting against the moon’s light. But as I kneel down, I realize it isn’t metal, but Tanya’s silver ring. I press the piece of jewellery against my lips, closing my eyes, drowning in the thought of where she might be now.
But when I open my eyes again, they narrow with focus and sharpness. I am going to find her. Using the intense scent she’s left behind I follow it with urgency.
Dorian’s POV:
I know I am dreaming. I must be dreaming. Because my mother died years ago, yet now I see her…
Still, the pain feels so real. Her favourite belt stings my skin even as I lay asleep dreaming, and I cry out in heartbreak. My dream has taken me to some of my darkest childhood memories. And I once again become that small little boy, useless, pathetic, and helpless, crying out for his mother’s forgiveness, as she mercilessly whips me again, and again and again.
By then, mother had drunkenly told me one night, that
she was a witch who had a brief love affair with Joseph. But when Joseph learned that my mother could wield magic, he left her, seeing her as an abomination. Even when she told him that she was pregnant, and begged him not to leave, Joseph only believed that it was a lie. A ploy used to keep him with her.
And so, I was born, half witch, half wolf, and despised by all.
The hurt my mother experienced from Joseph’s rejection, she took out on me, spending most of her days of life drunk and alone, beating and whipping me when she grew restless, cursing my existence.
Sometimes she cursed me for being a hybrid and ruining her life, other times she cursed me for not being strong enough. She’d justify her beatings as a lesson, a lesson to make me stronger and more resilient. Sometimes she’d whisper into my ear, telling me I had to be strong so that one day I can take revenge on my father and his family.
And as she used Joseph as the reason to hurt me, and I used her acts of abuse as a reason to one day inflict pain on my father. He was the true cause of all this. My thoughts grew more disturbed with time, as I’d think of all the ways I would t*ortur*e my father as well as his family and make them feel all the pain that I felt.
On the rare occasions that my mother was sober, she’d shower me in an obnoxious amount of affection, whispering sweet nothings and gracing me with hugs. But moments like those were far and few in between, for the most part, my mother was an angry drunk who couldn’t look after me.
The only smart thing she ever did was hire a maid to look after me. An Omega called Linda, Lily’s mother. If it
hadn’t been for her, I probably wouldn’t have survived past the age of three. She was of the few people that showed me true kindness and made sure I was safe and looked after. Soon I grew unbothered by my mother’s emotional absence and became independent and self- sufficient with Linda’s guiding hand.
I was eight when it happened.
I heard a loud bang come from the living room. I rushed in to find my mother drunk and having a seizure. She must’ve mistakenly used her witchcraft, causing the ceiling chandelier to fall from its hook and smash itself to pieces atop of her. She was bleeding profusely, and foaming at the mouth from brain damage, all the while still cursing Joseph and me.
Linda was around at the time, and rushed in, terrified at the scene. She wanted to call the emergency services, wanted to help my mother. And while my mother’s mind wouldn’t have survived, physically she probably would have made it with the right treatment.
But I stopped Linda just as she was about to pick up the phone. Despite her confused protests, I stopped her, conviction in my eyes. And that was probably the first time I ever murdered someone.
My mother.
The scene in my dream starts to fade, shadows blurring out their faces and swirls of colour undoing my surroundings. When it clears again, I’m dressed up in neat clothing, following Barlow. He was going to teach me black magic that day.
Barlow did in fact treat me like a son and liked me very much because of my intelligence. And despite his strict rules, he treated me well, and cared about me.
The dream blurs again, and I reappear for a last time in a different scene. It was my birthday, Barlow was sitting beside me with a cigarette between his lips, dressing me in the new clothes he had especially made for me. Then he looked at me with a smug smile.
“Now aren’t I terrific at making the best clothes,” he laughs playfully. “I bet I could even make a living being a seamstress!”
I still remember the feel of the fabric against my skin. They didn’t feel delicate like clothes made by a woman, but they made me feel warm, and reliable. Protected, 1
I suddenly jolt awake. My pillow is soaked from my sweat, and I feel breathless. I calm myself, slowly rising from bed as I rein in my confusion and shock over the strange dream. My stunned expression retracts, and I mask my thoughts with a thin straight line across my lips.
It is just a dream.
A dream about my childhood memories with my mother and Barlow. Course my mother I cared nothing for, Barlow on the other hand… we fought, and that relationship is now over. How I feel about it doesn’t matter anymore.
The dream is all about meaningless days. It is nothing.
I’m just slightly surprised that it’s Barlow that I see in my dream. Thinking of him leads me to wonder where he may be now. Course I don’t order or ask my subordinates, and they don’t dare mention his name around me.
But that’s not important, right now, I’m going to meet lovely little Tanya.
Tanya’s POV:
I awake, hungry and cold. My heart hammers in my chest as I blink at my surroundings, trying to discern where I am. But nothing looks familiar, not the room, not the bed, nor the table or chairs in corner. Everything is foreign.
My mind traces back its memories to Eric. Why did he attack me? Where has he taken me? But before my thoughts can delve any further the door to the room unlocks. And in steps Dorian.