Dahlia (Blood Crave Series) by Christina Channelle Read Free Book Online

cries got louder and louder as I made my way over broken tree branches and through snow-covered shrubs. I was determined to get to my destination, to this unknown call that summoned me. My heart squeezed tightly as I felt a sense of panic, an urgency of needing to get there as quickly as possible. I paused and looked up to the sky, felt the trees suddenly engulfing me and for a moment, I was afraid. I felt as if the forest would trap me in its grasp and with no means to escape if I moved forward.
    It was then that I noticed it, at the corner of my eye. A few feet away, next to a fallen tree, lay a dog. Or so I thought at first. It was, indeed, a very large dog. Its thick, black fur was soaked with blood as it panted loudly. As I drew nearer, I saw that it was not a dog at all, but a wolf. I had never seen one before but I was certain it was. I imagined it looked just like the wolf in the story read to me the night before.
    Big and frightening.
    For some reason my racing heart unexpectedly slowed down. The beats more steady, but just as loud, I continued to stare at the creature. As opposed to feeling fear, gazing at this animal seemed to have an almost calming effect on me. I slowly stepped closer, noticing that the wolf was gravely injured, fresh blood covering its fur. Perhaps it had been in a fight with a larger animal and lost. Bears often frequented the area, the reason why the fence around the orphanage was built, and why we were given warnings about safety.
    Kneeling beside the wolf in the snow, I stretched out a trembling hand toward its belly and stroked its warm, bloody fur. I watched as the wolf breathed quickly, its chest rising and falling in painful whimpers. For some reason I knew the wolf would not attack. I don’t know what made me so sure of this fact, but it was a powerful feeling that came over me.
    Like instinct.
    Another thing that was strange was my reaction toward the blood. Maybe it had been shock or something but whatever it was, the smell of blood was intoxicating to me as I saw my bloodied hands intermingled with the wolf’s fur. It smelled like all the flowers in the world infused into one unique scent, my salivary glands acting on overdrive.
    Looking down at the red, pulsating color, my stomach growled loudly. I instantly knew it , was what I wanted a taste of. A deep throb formed within my mouth as I began to feel a hunger so strong, more than anything I had ever felt, that I physically ached in pain. I knew it was wrong, but it was like when you had that strong itch that you just had to scratch.
    I tightly closed my eyes, took deep breaths in and out, as I fought to overcome the urge. Then suddenly time stood still for me, like I was almost in a trance. I was there, but it was as if I was watching myself instead of actually experiencing what was really happening. I may not have tasted the blood, like I wanted too, but the next thing I did was just as bizarre.
    I saw myself, huddled on the ground, almost frantically searching for something. Then I grabbed a piece of wood that lay next to the wolf, holding it tightly within my grasp. I rolled the left sleeve of my red sweater up past my forearm and reached down as I slowly sank the wood against my skin, hesitating as my skin dipped from the pressure of the sharp tip. Then slowly—almost methodically—I pressed firmly, breaking the skin as blood started to seep from the wound. I stared at myself doing this, no emotion crossing my face.
    I barely felt the pain.
    The entire time this was happening, the wolf had stopped whimpering and just openly stared at me with an almost human expression on its face. Looking into its piercing eyes, I instinctively drew my bloody forearm above its head as my blood dripped into the wolf’s mouth. My gaze latched onto the wolf lapping up the liquid substance, as if quenching its thirst. I stayed in that position with the animal for some time, my face one of serenity, then withdrew my arm as I slowly stood up.