Mated to the Alpha and His Beta

Chapter 443

Chapter 443 Xander

All of us had found spaces to sleep in the tiny cabins belowdecks. We had all wanted to be together, but there was no bed big enough for the four of us. Also, Stella had told us that she’d seen us sleeping in our own beds, and so we had agreed.

Exhaustion claimed me right away, but my sleep was fitful. I tossed and turned until finally, I sat straight up in bed and grazed the ceiling with my head. For a second, I didn’t know where I was. Belongs to © n0velDrama.Org.

I wasn’t tossing and turning. The yacht was. Without any windows in the cabin, the room was pitch black, but I felt the boat rolling from side to side. I put out a hand to feel for the wall, suddenly afraid I was not in a boat, on the sea, but in space, floating without protection. Maybe dreaming. Maybe transported to some far off place I’d never heard of.

The second my fingers brushed the wall, I felt solid, anchored, and myself again. I shook off the fears trying to consume me and fumbled for the light switch. The lights wouldn’t turn on, even though I flicked it several times.

My wolf took over.

He didn’t take my body, just my vision and instincts so I could make my way to the door and the hallway beyond. It was dark there, too, but a faint strip of emergency lighting led me to the stairs so I could get up on deck. Zane and Mason were right behind me. Lanie had beat us there. I couldn’t see Stella.

“She’s up there!” Lanie pointed. She had to shout over the sound of the lashing winds pushing waves up and over the deck.

The sky was light overhead, but not from the sun or the moon. An eerie green glow crackled with electricity and showed off rolling clouds of billowing fog.

“That is not normal,” Zane thought-shouted to me.

The fog made a wall. It was hard to see if it was solid, as in if the yacht would crash into it or go through it, but it was definitely not moving the way fog was supposed to. The wall stretched from the roiling ocean all the way up to the skies and beyond.

As we all gathered on the foredeck in front of the wheelhouse, I turned to look up into the windows for any sight of the captain. His silhouette lit up in another flash of lightning. He looked scared out of his mind. His eyes were wide. His mouth, gaping open in a scream I couldn’t hear over the rush and roar of the storm.

All of a sudden, his gaze locked onto mine. He disappeared from view. Moments later, he was on the deck, plunging toward us. He slid on the slick wood and fell to one knee. He struggled to get up, but the yacht was riding a tall wave that pitched us up at an angle so sharp he couldn’t get his footing.

Zane lost his balance and slid down the deck to collide with a large box labeled with emergency gear. Mason managed to grab onto the railing and stop himself from falling, and he reached out to grab Lanie and hold her close to stop her, too.

I staggered back, arms pinwheeling, as the yacht’s position shifted and then sent me forward again. The captain grabbed at my arm and hauled himself upright. His eyes blazed with fear.

“What is this? What is happening?” His lips shaped the words, but I could still only barely hear him.

If he wasn’t at the helm, were we going to crash? I didn’t know shit about how boats worked. The captain grappled with me, clutching at the front of my shirt. He was still shouting, but I couldn’t

understand him. I felt his terror, all right. Sour and stinking even over the electrical scent of the storm.

Stella appeared like she’d been there all along and we simply hadn’t seen her. Maybe she’d been invisible. Maybe we were all hallucinating.

Maybe we were all going to die.

The yacht bore down on the wall of fog at top speed. Every second it seemed like we’d burst through it, but it remained the same distance away. And then, a hand curled out of the fog. It was made of the fog itself. Long-taloned fingers clawed.

It grabbed the captain and lifted him into the air, squeezing as his arms and legs flailed. He was shrieking. The phantom fist crushed him and began to draw him into the wall of mist.

Stella held up both her hands, then slammed them down. The giant hand dropped the captain into a boneless heap on the deck. I could tell by the way he landed that he was already dead.

The hand disappeared. Was that a scream? An endless, ageless howl of rage? Or was it the storm, still rising?

Stella worked her hands again, moving them. The captain got to his feet. He lurched toward the wheelhouse.

He was dead, all right, but Stella was moving him. The rest of us fought to keep our feet as the captain reappeared in the wheelhouse windows. Stella turned and jumped up on the front of the boat, holding onto the railing as though she meant to go over.