Bitten by a werewolf, Dawn Wyatt becomes a Neotide – a werewolf who has no place in the world of pure bloods. What follows is even more harrowing.Targeted for being killed by their father’s enemies, eighteen-year old Dawn Wyatt and her ten-year old brother Cole escape the capturers and literally plead to be taken in by a farmer's family. The family complies, but when the captors offer a huge reward of ten million dollars for the escaped siblings, the family betrays them. To save their lives, they flee the country. Dawn returns back five years later as a 'Bitten' werewolf and brilliant market analyst to carve her niche. And also to avenge those who turned her into a werewolf and took everything away from her, without realizing that she is a cynosure of multiple conspiracies.
Dawn Wyatt was bitten.
Its powerful jaws sank deep through her skin into the muscle.
Lying on the bathroom floor in a pool of blood, she was in a trance-like
state. The metallic smell of the sanguine fluid hung in the air. Her body
immediately convulsed in vendetta as though some poison was injected
in it.
---
Dawn Wyatt was a star golfer. That morning when she drove her car
into the main gate of the course, the guard, Geoffrey, greeted her and
ran after her car as it entered the driveway. "Good morning, Miss
Dawn," he said with a wide grin, half-panting.
"Morning!" Dawn beamed at the guard as she alighted her chauffeur-
driven silver luxury Porsche and adjusted the marker on her pink cap.
The morning rays of sunlight fell on her sun-kissed, dimpled cheeks,
radiating her lovely aura. Her close-set green eyes sparkled, which her
mother would often quip and compare to a rare green emerald she had
bought from Yorkshire. Her shiny black hair was neatly tied into a
ponytail. Wearing a white collared t-shirt, a pink sports skirt, and a pair
of white golf shoes, she looked every bit a winner—a cute one albeit.
"Let me carry your golf bag," Geoffrey offered, feeling joyous at her
pleasing behavior.
"Oh no Geoffrey!" she exclaimed as she hurled the bag on her shoulder.
"I don't want your back to be injured any more than what it is."
Old Geoffrey gave her a kind smile. He adored this girl ever since she
was a small baby. She was always so considerate, and thoughtful.
However, there was one flaw about her that scared him and many
others—her short temper.
Dawn walked past him with a smile and went to the clubhouse.
She was going to play on probably one of the most beautiful golf
courses in the country owned by her father. Other than this, her father
owned several other prominent businesses. He was one of the most
influential and feared men of the nation. As a result, Dawn was born
with a silver, no, a golden spoon in her mouth. However, none of the
privileges she was born with showed in her behavior. She was a well-
grounded girl without an ounce of arrogance or brattishness. She also
had one passion—golf. Dawn immediately fell in love with the sport
when she was only four years old.
The Wyatt Golf Course had a well-structured academy, which helped
her flourish her passion. At eighteen, she was a prodigy of the sorts. She
had won most of the feeder rounds across the country, and just two
days back, she had returned home after winning her first nationals.
Based on her consistent performance, she was nominated by the Sports
Council to represent her country in Irish Open Championships.
Born and brought up in an extremely affluent environment, Dawn did
face her share of mockery and smarmy remarks after winning the
trophy.
It was no different today. While playing with her usual group, she heard
them talking in hushed tones about nationals being rigged because of
her father's influence. She ignored the gossip and concentrated on her
game and her coach who instructed her constantly.
She had been holding her bladder ever since the past three holes, and as
soon as her group reached the ninth hole, she made a dash to the
bathroom. But just before leaving, she glanced at the three girls who
watched her bitterly and started to gossip about her again. They
snickered. One of them was Bree, her only rival in the academy—
though Bree was nowhere near her, in terms of skill, but was a bitter
adversary.
In the past, in order to insult Dawn on purpose, Bree had tried to
establish many times that she had not followed the rules of golf. Often
that led to bitter arguments and disputes, which furthered into the two
of them getting heavily penalized by the management for inappropriate
behavior.
When Dawn was putting in the ninth hole, she heard Bree whispering
acerbically to a girl in the group, "I am extremely sure that she won it
because of twisting the results in the nationals. She must have used her
family's clout.
"Who knows? That could happen," the girl replied with a shrug.
Dawn took a deep breath as if trying to swallow her anger. Enough was
enough. She walked up to them. When she an earshot away, said
harshly, "I don't take kindly to these types accusations, Bree. If you
dare, then report your nonsense and illogical observations about me to
the sports council. Also, with the way you played during the last few
holes, I can see how your fragile understanding of the game shattered
your chances of making a cut during the feeder rounds, let alone the
nationals."
Bree's mouth fell to the ground. "You-" she rasped. Yet before she could
collect her face from the ground, Dawn walked away, leaving Bree
flushed with eyes bulging like a toad.
As Dawn strode, she tried to calm herself. Bree was increasingly getting
on her nerves. She wriggled out of her negative thoughts with a
"Brrrrrr!" sound making her lips flap. All of a sudden, an eerie feeling
that someone was watching her descended upon her. She tried to shrug
it off.
No one is watching you.
No one is staring at you.
Keep still and keep walking.
The feeling of being watched was especially uncanny to her, due to the
fact that she hated attention of any kind, being subjected to it most of
her life. She was so private that she had used her father's influence to
prevent her picture from being shared in the public as much as possible.
Even though she tried to convince herself to remain as calm as possible,
she couldn't help checking. Halfway through her brisk pace, she peeked
to her left—in his golf cart, Mr. Higgins, Bree's father, had turned his
face in her direction. His eyes bored into her as if they were trying to
create a crater in her body. Dawn flinched, hoping that he would drop
his scrutiny, but he didn't. So, Dawn pursed her lips and continued to
walk. She broke into a sprint to the bathroom hoping to get out of his
sight soon.
Moments later, she walked to the basin to wash her hands, feeling
relieved and positive. She flitted her eyes around. The lemony fragrance
of the aromatic oils in the diffuser refreshed her senses.
The bathroom was exquisitely built. The marble was specially imported
from Italy. All the plants were kept in golden pots. White fluffy hand-
towels were placed near the basin for hand-wiping purposes.
Dawn picked one up and was drying her hands when, from the corner
of her eye, she saw a reflection in the mirror—something hairy.
Someone was standing right behind her.
Her brain stuttered for a moment, as her eyes couldn't take in what she
saw. Every part of her body froze. She tilted her head to get a clear
view of the reflection, wondering if she was imagining things. But it
was really, truly there: a man—no—a beast, whose face and hands were
covered with long, dense and grey hair like that of a wolf. He stared at
her with the yellow of his eyes.
She dropped her towel as her mouth fell. Her body quivered at the sight
in terror. She noticed that the creature was huge and gross with matted
hair. Standing on its knotted haunches, it stared at her with its wrinkly
face in a pure evil way.
It let out a low growl, and despite it being a warm day, Dawn's skin
became icy cold. The second her flight reflex took over, her body
exploded into motion. She turned to flee, a primal scream choking in
her throat. Dawn bumped into the counter, knocking the mini-plant to
the ground and tripped over the rug. The door was ten meters away,
perhaps less. She got up to dart through it, but the instant her limbs
moved, she also heard him moving swiftly. Before she could even take
another step, the beast attacked her.
The monster came from the side and clamped onto her leg. She kicked it
with all her might, not realizing that her body was trembling and there
were tears in her eyes. Dawn shouted, "Let go of me!" She looked at the
door. "Someone, please help!"
The creature struck her with his hands. She was pushed to the wall near
the counter. Her head hit it with a thud. Gasping for air, she booted the
monster with all her might.
"Help!" she shouted again, finding her voice.
Suddenly, she heard footsteps in the aisle outside. In order to garner
attention, she opened her mouth wide to shout as loudly as possible, but
it was too late—the beast grabbed her leg, dragged her near him and
dug its sharp fangs into her calf. An excruciating pain cruised through
her body. The next instant, she felt dizzy, as if some poison was running
through her veins.
Dawn had been bitten by a werewolf.
She started feeling faintish. Her vision blurred. The footsteps outside
came closer. Through her half-open eyes, she watched the beast giving
her a creepy look before it escaped through the window. It climbed the
rooftop of the adjoining building and disappeared.
The door opened, but she didn't know who had entered. Her body
revolted. It was flushed hot. She passed out, blood oozing out of her
wound and flowing like a crimson river.
Other books by David L. Ellington
More