song: Tear You Apart- She Wants Revenge

Eleanor's twin, Evan, at the top (:

NINE
f l a m e s

AFTER yet another staredown, Eleanor tugged nervously at Jack's shirt, taking the prepared fish off the stove.

Jack sighed, glancing after her discontentedly.

Eleanor chewed her lip. She didn't want to ruin the peaceful silence, but she was filled with the urge to speak.

She began to talk, unsure of how he would respond.

"Jack? I need to know something."

Jack scratched his head as Eleanor turned to face him.

"What would that be?" He asked distractedly, seemingly out of this world.

"Um, this is going to sound kind of strange."

He focused on what she was saying, watching her soft, pink lips.

"When I was surrounded by the wolves, I..."

Jack walked, then came to a stop in front of Eleanor, reaching above her to get to plates from the cupboard.

She was momentarily entranced as his arm veins bulged with the movement, endlessly fascinated by his body.

Eleanor breathed in his now familiar scent. It was musky, and had a piney odor that could only be found outdoors, deep in the woods.

How fitting.

"Continue."

Jack slid the plates on the counter beside Eleanor's waist, raising an eyebrow at her silent figure.

Eleanor's breath hitched, savoring the roughness of Jack's voice, though it was merely a single word he spoke.

"W-well... I don't know, really. I couldn't help but wonder if you knew any of those wolves."

"And what brought you to that conclusion, Red?" Jack picked up the china and moved it onto the table, looking rather large in comparison to everything else in the otherwise decently sized room.

"I don't know if I can explain."

"Try." Jack demanded, pulling out his chair and sitting down to eat.

Eleanor shivered as his voice took a firm, commanding tone.

"I saw the malice in their gazes. A normal wolf is incapable of human emotion."

"But a werewolf is not?"

"Well yes, you are an example."

"Which ones?" He stared encouragingly at her, beckoning her to come eat.

She took a seat across from him, folding her hands on the table.

"If I may be completely honest, aggression is the one that... stands out the most." She spoke, watching Jack obnoxiously rip the fish with his teeth, biting hungrily into its flesh. A bone hung like a hook from the side of his lip, which he paid no mind to.

Jack met her gaping eyes, then swallowed and dabbed his mouth with a napkin.

"Fair enough. What else?"

"Loneliness."

He parted his lips and paused, causing a piece of chewed up trout to fall from his mouth.

Eleanor cringed, trying not to pay attention to his horrendous table manners; or lack thereof.

"You think I'm lonely, Red?" He asked incredulously.

"It's evident by the lack of people in your life. It seems that you aren't used to humans, so in some way, you must fear us," she spoke gently, awaiting his response.

"I thought you studied medicine, not psychology." Jack snorted, finishing off his meal before Eleanor was even halfway through hers.

"Actually, psychology is my minor."

"Of course it is," he scoffed, rising from the table.

"I suppose your kind would think of me as antisocial or disconnected, and I don't blame you. Just so you know, that was a choice I made long ago. No good comes out of my being social. I am a sheltered man for a reason, Red. Anyway, my life holds no importance to your story. Finish."

Eleanor sighed, staring sadly at him before continuing her inquiry.

"What I'm trying to understand is my correlation to these wolves. I was keeping my distance, minding my own business. I only wanted to go back to school. But for some reason, this seemed personal. Like it wasn't a coincidence.

Do I have something that they want?"

Eleanor stared at him in anticipation, anxiously chewing her lip.

"Me." Jack's voice was steady, though his hollow eyes observantly went around the room.

"You have me. Normal wolves can communicate with us werewolves when we are shifted."

He turned to face Eleanor.

"Do you remember when I told you that you are mine?"

"Vaguely..." Eleanor struggled to find a connection with what he was saying.

"Suppose it's not a figure of speech."

"Meaning what?" Eleanor held her breath.

Jack sighed, saying,

"I didn't want to have to tell you this, but I suppose you would have found out eventually... That curious kind of yours will be your downfall."

"Legend states that once, after the first man was bitten by a wolf, he lost his manner of living.

He snapped. He was greedy and acted by only means of his conflated desires. The Goddess was angry.

As a last resort of desperation, she fused his heart, mind, and soul to her first female creation, for the purpose of softening his heart and bringing a sense of humility to his life. She was the first and only full she-wolf to ever walk the earth.

Once the Goddess brought them together, they both knew that they would never experience love the same again. This woman became his entire universe.

She consumed his every thought and movement. She balanced out the anger and immense strength he had. She brought the best out of every flaw that the man was born with.

The Goddess realized the purity underlying in this man was not great enough to eliminate his vindictive lifestyle.

The man, much like the rest of the human population does, took this love for granted.

He committed infidelity in a lust crazed stupor, much to the woman's chagrin.

Word came from the town that he had been spending a lot of time at a nearby brothel.

The woman was refused to listen, as she believed so fiercely in their love. Until she discovered him in the arms of another herself.

The pain was too much for her faint heart. She couldn't bear to see him any longer.

After finding out that she was pregnant with his child, she ran away from him and never returned, knowing he did not deserve such a gift, and that the child could only ever be a burden to a man such as himself.

When the child was born, she abandoned him, feeling too much shame to ever love him.

It must've been his eyes, for they reminded her too much of the baby's father, and what he had done.

The man tried to fill the irrevocable hole that his soulmate had left with more careless sexual conquests.

In this act against his feelings, he fathered many human children, inevitably causing the werewolf population to rise.

What he had done angered the Goddess so much that she split every bound soul into two, forcing the rest of the unlucky bitten and the born wolves alike to roam the earth to discover their other halves on their own accord.

Many were unable to do so. They lived, missing an essential component of themselves, no longer harboring morality and dignity.

As for the abandoned wolf?

He resided with savages for the beginning of his life.

More commonly known as rogues, savages are wolves that aren't accepted due to a deformity, troubled minds, psychopathic or sociopathic tendencies, or, like most cases, are just plain selfish.

The child of the Firsts spent years unbeknownst to the power he held.

When they were attacked, he experienced anger for the first time, triggered by his horrific environment, and by his thoughts that he could not escape; for his disruptive mind was a part of him that he would never be rid of.

He was expected to defend himself. That was the day he realized there was no such thing as family.

Much like the very day he entered the world, he was fighting his own war.

Not knowing what else there was to do, he shifted. He ended the attacker's lives', and felt a thrill like he had never known. That was his first mistake.

It was at that very moment when he understood the blood that rushed through his veins and his flushed skin. That very moment was when he felt alive for the first time- rebirth, if you will.

He was beyond temperamental. He was worse than the rest.

This lead to bloodshed. It was said to be chaotic, bodies piled on top of one another.

When it was over, the others were in a corner as far away from the young boy as they could possibly be.

He killed the entire pack, and even some of his own.

They considered him far too dangerous to reside with them, despite the heinous acts they'd committed themselves.

They locked him away and fed him three times a week, hoping for his death. One day, during one of his violent fits, he saw his reflection for the first time.

A dusty, shattered mirror within the confined four walls of an old room, walls covered with his fierce clawing, head filled with his lack of triumphs.

And then he saw his eyes.

As his body convulsed with pent up frustration, they gleamed red.

That color was all he knew and all he had, all he could ever have.

That boy was me."

Eleanor took a few steps away from him in revulsion.

"I- I don't..."

"Don't you see, Red?"

"You were made for me. Whether the Goddess was mistaken in her decision or not, she gave me the gift of your life."

Jack stared at her with desire, trapping her with his arms.

He grasped her hair, breathing in her enticing scent to soothe himself.

"But now, you're in danger. They know who you are."

"I never wanted it to come to this. I never wanted you to see me."

He growled, banging his hand against the wall in frustration.

Eleanor jumped, hissing quietly.

"Don't worry," Jack whispered, nuzzling her neck with his nose.

His eyelashes tickled against her bared collarbone, causing her to shiver.

"I promise to keep you safe from them, Red. I won't let a thing happen to you."

"By any means."

═════════

Evan Atwood had yet to find Eleanor.

It had been two days since his sister had gone missing.

He had attempted to distract himself with his work, school, and even sex, but nothing seemed to make his worries lessen.

His grandmother, used to Eleanor's questioning nature and desensitized by her last time away from home, tried to talk him down.

"It's been two days, not two years. Eleanor is an adventurous, bright girl. She knows how to handle tough situations. You think I'm not scared? Of course I am, if not more than you. But don't you assume the worst of somebody close, Evan.

You may underestimate them that way."

There was a difference between underestimating someone, and knowing when their limit could be reached.

That was what Evan's grandmother could not seem to understand.

It was nighttime now, and Evan found himself wandering to the scene of Eleanor's accident once again.

He was a little tipsy, staggering carelessly around the opening of a forest.

One would think that after Evan and Eleanor's reckless parents had been destroyed by alcohol, they'd know to stay away from drinking and the effects it had.

Instead, they had both let their parent's influence get the best of them, more so Eleanor than Evan.

Evan didn't drink like he used to, not like the nights where he'd hold Eleanor tightly while she cried and he cried, drowning their sorrows into a bottle together.

He heard the obnoxious banging sound off in his mind, reminded of the days his father used to try to break down the door, loud enough to make him outwardly groan.

"Fuck." Evan cursed, heaving up his liquor and most of what he had eaten throughout the course of the day.

On his knees now, he heaved in a slow breath, staring at the liquid pool that had come from his stomach.

Abdomen clenching from his body rejecting the remnants of his meals, Evan frowned down at the mossy grass.

On the barren ground, there was an eye. It was icy, the clearest shade blue he'd ever laid eyes on, dilated so much that the pupil was hardly visible.

Evan, upon noticing a distinctive paw print and a clump of fur just around the area, realized exactly what it was that he saw.

The eye of a wolf.

.

really hoping this chapter makes sense to everyone, because even I was a little confused. & it was an abrupt place to leave off, I knowwww.

this chapter was kind all over the place. but at least there was some Eleanor & Jack action in the beginning (kinda, there will be much much more soon hee)

its ridiculously hard to think of a ship name for those wild ones *sigh* oh well, hope you enjoyed this update. hopefully it won't take so long next time man

xx karena