Unwilling (Book One of the Compelled Trilogy 1) by Kristen Pike Page A

off after her and relishing the fact that after all these years, he had finally held her. He knew what her body felt like against his, and it was better than he had ever imagined.
     
     
     
     
     
     
    SIX
    FIVE MONTHS AGO-MARCH
     
     
     
    The night was blinding. Stars winked down at him, mocking his predicament. Galamee sneered back at them as he slunk through the darkened alleyways like a rat. His heart pounded as he strained his ears to listen to the darkness around him, his eyes darting around him though it was near impossible to see anything. His breath puffed out in short gasps as he hid against a wall, tucking himself beside a large pile of garbage. Someone one just happening down the alley would barely notice him, he blended so well with the discarded trash giving off a foul smell.
    A footstep echoed at the front of the alley and Galamee shrunk in on himself, his foot making a too loud swishing sound as he adjusted his position, he cringed back lower, desperately trying to conceal himself. He was scared, petrified, so filled with terror that his body shook, his heart ripping itself through his chest bones. Sweat beaded on his forehead, stinging into his eyes as he blinked rapidly, trying to slow his breathing.
    “Are you down there Galamee?” A gruff voice called down the alley, mocking him same as the stars. Galamee stopped breathing as heavy footsteps drew closer to his position. “You can’t hide forever! Jameson will find you one way or another, you owe him a lot of money, and he intends to make you pay it!” The voice rang out, cold and clear through the night like a birds whistle but with tenfold the malice and Galamee knew that voice would not hesitate to break a few bones if it were to find him perched where he was.
    Galamee sucked in a sharp breath as he heard the man swinging a large stick at similar piles of trash along the alleyway, trying to flush out Galamee’s hiding place. Galamee squeezed his eyes shut, wishing away the all-consuming fear that was gripping his body, wishing away the debts he owed Jameson, wishing away the man with the stick, terrified of the swishing that loomed closer and closer still.
    “GALAMEE!” The voice shouted, frightening a few birds and they took off from the roof of a building, scattering a few brown leaves to the ground. Galamee remained where he was, rooted to the spot with terror though his limbs ached to move, to stretch, but he was to coward to run and knew even if he did the voice would catch him, would break him, and would kill him.
    The swishing stopped and once again Galamee was thrust into silence as the footsteps retreated, off to search another alley, anther pile of trash, not Galamee’s pile of trash. Galamee smirked in the darkness, maybe he would get away with swindling Jameson out of thousands of coins after all. He would just needed to get out of town for a while. Miranda would not be happy about that.
    Galamee let out a groan of pain as he stood up, his bones creaking at the strain. His eyes glinted under the moonlight mischievously, proud of himself for pulling one over on Jameson. Galamee’s short chubby legs carried him down the alley, and across streets. Miranda would be furious at him when he got home.
    Galamee was out of breath when he reached the rundown home he shared with his fiancée Miranda, his lungs burning as they tried to suck in the cool night air. Galamee soothed down his rumpled shirt and vest over his rotund stomach, pushing his greasy hair back from his face.
    He opened the door; more silence greeted him, like an old friend, wrapping him in an embrace. “Miranda?” he questioned the house, a small candle flickered in the kitchen, casting menacing shadows along the walls. “Miranda?” he called a little louder, stepping into the dirty house, and closing the door, it felt like he was being eaten by a beast.
    “Damnit.” He cursed, Miranda had asked him to pick up some food, they had barely anything in their cupboards,