Diana In Wonderland

Diana

I jerked up, panting as the ends of my nightmare left me. Instinctually, I grabbed for my necklace and sighed with relief. I hung my head and groaned. Of course, I'd be halfway across the world to have the most vivid dreams.

As I took calming deep breaths, I recalled what my mother told me about dreams. I doubted learning about Bamberg and werewolves meant I was worried about something though. I needed to get my mother's uneasiness out of my head. I loved her, but I could handle learning my history, I am a New Yorker after all.

Raising my head, I was fully prepared to see my small room, with textured floral wallpaper that made my eyes bleed and the ever-present warm light of the lamp I couldn't figure out how to turn off, but instead, the room was tinted a midnight blue glow, courtesy of the full room that seemed to fill each panel of glass that acted as the walls.

I gasped as I kicked back, needing space between me and the disconnection of reality, but my confusion only deepened, as the softest sheets danced under my bare legs and what I could only guess was the most expensive blanket bunching up around my middle.

"Ouch," I hissed as I backed too far and knocked my head against something. I turned and glared at the three-panel art piece. It was beautiful, like black smoke circles dancing across the white background, but it definitely was not supposed to be there.

"Where the hell am I?" I panted, trying and failing to keep my panic inside. I tried to remember what happened last night, but all I kept seeing was that dream, proof that I was getting way more involved in the history of this town. Besides music, my affinity to history was like most people, I knew enough to get by if need be, but the music was who I was.

"I need ten random facts, about Bach? I'm your girl." I thought inwardly.

Since coming to Bamberg, I threw myself into learning what I could about it, and apparently that caused nightmares. That still didn't explain how I ended up in a stranger's bed. I wasn't one of those fast women. Sure, a girl had a couple of questionable nights, but in all my twenty-two years of life, I could only recall possibly two of those nights.

"Well, three countings today." I gasped. I needed to get back home; perhaps my cousin might have details of what happened. I leaned toward the nightstand, knowing that no matter where I ended up, usually at home, my phone was within arm's reach.

As I leaned, my long slender fingers touched a cold hard surface, and no phone, but before I could even worry about my missing phone, I was frozen, staring at a still figure by the long sheer white curtains. My breathing increased and I was torn between reasons why, going back and forth between fear, confusion, and attraction.

The figure, a man, swallowed as I gawked at him, his Adam's apple dancing up and down. His skin was pale, made paler by his jet-black hair, which almost glowed from the moon that was behind him. His frame was large, well over six feet, his shoulders both muscular and yet lean, his fit tank top left little to the imagination, and his bare feet poked out from his black joggers.

He uncrossed his arms and those icy blue eyes connected with mine. My breath caught as fear pushed past the attraction and I suddenly realized that I was alone with this massive man, in a room I didn't remember entering. I tried to speak, but what did one say when you woke up in a room that clearly belonged to him?

"Can't go by Red Robin, too many versions out there where I ended up getting eaten, and by the looks, I was getting from him." I thought as I had been stripped and seasoned and was nearly ready to be served.

"I won't hurt you. You are safe here." He spoke, his voice, deep, was annoying smooth like honey. "I am Michael Beck," he said.

"This is your bed?" I groaned with embarrassment. There were a ton of questions I could have asked, and I chose that?! Before he could answer, I quickly threw another question out there. "Where am I?" That was a much better question.

The smirk that flashed over his face was quick. If I blinked, I wouldn't have even seen it, but I caught it and my heart skipped. That was odd.

"What do you remember?" he asked me.

I scoffed.

"What I remember is a dream," I spoke to myself as I glances past him and saw the trees; they looked like the ones from my dream actually.

"Um, trees," I said, my voice distant even to my own ears. "I was with friends, in the forest," I added, recalling the chill in my toes, my boots were not able to combat the cold. "It was a dream," I said mainly to myself.

He took a step forward, but I jerked back on the bed, not from fear but needing space to keep my thoughts on the task at hand, and not on my body's betrayal in this time of confusion and distress.

"Do you remember the attack?" he asked me.

"Attack? From what?" I questioned myself.

"Yellow eyes, I remember yellow eyes, and oh my god, my friends, where are my friends?" I said, my thoughts jumping.

His facial expressions were quick, but his grimace couldn't be mistaken. He didn't need to say it, for I knew what he was about to say.

"I'm sorry, but some of them didn't make it. The rest are at the hospital, most in critical condition," he said.

"From an animal?" I gasped. "What kind of animal could cause so much damage? I mean there were a lot of us and somehow only I come away unharmed?"

He nodded and took a step closer, swallowing loudly again. "There are all sorts of animals in these woods. This kind of thing is rare but it happens," he said.

I didn't remember and of course, all I had in my head were the stories Phillip filled me with. "Perhaps it was a werewolf," I whispered, but he straightened, letting me know he heard me loud and clear.

"There are many tales in Bamberg, and none as interesting as the werewolves." He inhaled through his nose, slow, even, and steady, all the while looking at me. "But the reality is you and your friends were in the wrong place at the wrong time. You should rest. The roads are impassable now because of the storm, but I'll return you home as soon as I can." He lingered, watching me before heading for the door.

"I'm Diana, by the way. Diana Wolff, and thank you for taking me in," I said.

He nodded and nearly fled from the room. Once alone, I rushed to the door and pressed my head to it to make sure he was gone. His footsteps were faint; the door was thicker than the ones in my apartment, but they were definitely descending away from the door. I searched the room, making sure there were no more mysterious men hiding in plain sight.

Satisfied I was truly alone, I returned to the bed and frowned at the door. Beyond his painfully obvious beauty, he wasn't telling me the whole truth. I couldn't explain how I knew he wasn't but when he spoke, he seemed to think I was just going to take his word for it as if I was a sheep blindly following his explanations.

I was no sheep, more like a donkey, stubborn with a keen eye for deception. I would give myself ten, okay, maybe twenty minutes to recall every detail of him before I got to work on figuring out if my dream and what he told me fused together. An animal obviously made more sense, but as he said, werewolves were more interesting.