by Cathryn Fox
“Pride,” he warns and I don’t miss the deep desperation in his voice as his warm breath washes over my face. When his familiar scent reaches my nostrils and weaves its way through my blood it does something to my wolf.
“Stone…” I cry out, wanting to tell him I’m okay, that I understand what he’s doing, and that I’m grateful for everything he’s done for me, but I can’t quite find the right words.
He nudges me with his muzzle, and my spiked hackles settle when I meet his dark, pewter eyes—eyes that showcase so much emotion when they look at me.
He lets loose a relieved breath when my wolf finally simmers, relaxing beneath his careful hold. “Easy, Pride,” he returns, the hostility gone from his tone as he shifts his body to ease the weight on top of me. “Now follow my lead.”
“Enough,” the master demands and Stone instantly tenses. He obediently releases his grip on my neck, inches back and lowers his head in the company of the master.
“Well done, Stone.” With that the master snaps his fingers and Mario appears with three collars.
I flip over and land on all fours, and when my attention flicks to Gem, my heart squeezes and the full impact of what I’ve done hits me. My rebellious wolf has put us all in great danger and I know in an instant I must fix it, must make it right. Otherwise all could be lost.
I’m not sure what finally made me snap, perhaps it was seeing Gem damaged, or our failed plan, or maybe it was master’s evil smirk. But I do know that I’m angry, angry for losing control, for losing focus of my mission. But more importantly I’m disappointed.
How could I have lost sight of my goal?
I want to howl at my mutinous actions, for not keeping it together in the face of a crisis. Instead I give a savage shake of my head and berate myself for my behavior. I take a moment to remember my vow, remember that the elders died for me and I will not let their deaths go unavenged, which means that no matter how much the master taunts me, no matter how much I hate him, I can never, ever let my rage get the better of me again.
Panting hard, heavy rain drops drench my tongue and I widen my muzzle to drink them in. Hydrating myself in the downpour, I watch Stone shift back to human, and try not to cringe when my glance traces his deep purple scars. As he pulls on his jeans, I go on my haunches, taking that time to heal my battered body and settle my rattled mind.
Mario fits the powerful alpha with a collar, then comes to stand over me. I see trepidation in his eyes, and his hands shake slightly as they grip the circular metal band used to restrain me. That’s when I realize the handler’s not afraid of me, he’s afraid for me.
He knows my fate.
“Shift,” the master says, his voice so hard it hits me like a slap to the face. When I growl, he signals the other wolves in the courtyard to back away and resume their business. For them, the show has ended. Although everything in my gut warns that for me, it’s just the beginning.
I watch them go, then my head jerks back to the master and I slowly rise to my feet. As I think about the damage I’ve done, equal measures of guilt and worry come together in a heavy lump in the pit of my stomach. I have no idea if there is a way to repair the dent in our plan, or even if our army on the outside is still with us, but I do know that I’m the one who got us all into this mess, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get us out. As I think about what it will take to tear down these walls and escape, I shake off my wolf and call on my human side.
A moment later I find myself standing in the courtyard stark naked, cold rain dripping down my body, and I become acutely aware at how vulnerable I feel. When I begin to shake, Stone moves closer, his large body protecting mine from those studying me with too much curiosity. As wolves move about and their soft, hungry growls echo in my ears, I keep my hands at my sides, refusing to show any sign of discomfort in front of the master.
A moment later Mario fits me with a collar, and it surprises me when he drapes my torn nightgown over my scarred body. I’m grateful for the small act of kindness, but know better than to comment on it.
With a snap of his fingers, the master gestures for Mario to leash Gem. Once he has the collar around her neck, the master says, “Take her to the east wing.”
The east wing? Why would he have Mario deliver her to that remote part of the mansion? To where the master’s private sleeping quarters are located? Why isn’t he tossing her into the cellar with the rest of the wolves?
As I watch Mario lead her away my stomach knots. This can’t be good. On no, this can’t be good at all.
A shiver moves through me, tilting me off balance. I search the master’s dark, weathered face for answers, and my blood drains to my feet when he offers me a knowing smirk. I continue to hold his gaze until his eyes narrows in displeasure.
With a crook of his finger he waves Lawrence over then steps closer to me, his face is drawn tight, the lines deeper then I remember. I can sense his impatience, the edginess brimming beneath the surface and I know it’s not going to bode well for me. Tension coils through me as I harden myself.
Prepare.
His brow lifts and I know he’s about to make an example of his rebellious wolf. After all, disobedience comes with a price. My muscles tense in anticipation and when the blow comes, it knocks the wind out of me. The hard fist to my stomach has me faltering backwards, and while my wolf wants to emerge, to retaliate, the bone-deep need to kill tugging at her hard, I keep her leashed. If there is ever a time I needed to submit and show compliance, it’s now. Especially if I want to accomplish my mission. Something I have every intention of doing, because no matter what this man thinks, no matter what rules he plays by, I plan to come out fighting.
When his fist comes back again, Stone speaks. “I told her you still want to mate us. That’s why she reacted.”
The master’s hand stills mid-air and he angles his head to see the alpha beside me. His eyes are cold and shrewd as they fix on Stone, a reminder that he’s not a man to be toyed with and never, ever to be underestimated. “Are you telling me this to protect her?”
Stone’s grin is wolfish, menacing, a boy who knows how to play the game better than most, I realize. “No. Never,” he answers as his gaze leisurely rakes over my half naked body.
Everything in the way he’s looking at me fills me with unease, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think Stone was simply another one of the master’s puppets, a wolf to do his bidding. But I do know better. He is deeply intelligent and is doing exactly what he has to in order to survive in this cruel prison. Exactly what he has to do to protect me from a brutal beating that would undoubtedly leave me scarred, inside and out.
Although something tells me the master hasn’t even begun to discipline his defiant puppy yet. And no one, not even the powerful alpha who pretends to be broken will be able to help me when he does.
With renewed purpose, I lower my head in submission, knowing if I want to stay alive long enough to come up with a new plan, then I need to show obedience. As I stare at my mud coated feet, my heart tightens in my chest and I wonder how many times this boy is going to come to my rescue. How much abuse he’s going to take because of me?
“I take it she’s still putting up a fight?” the master asks.
Stone’s dark bark of laughter reverberates in my blood and I try not to react when he trails a finger over my bare arm and says, “Yeah, but that’s what I like about her. It will make breaking her that much more fun.”
“Yes,” the master says slowly, his lecherous gaze moving over my body before he adds, “She is a spirited one. Almost makes me want to do it myself, but since I need a purebred…”
As his words fall off, lingering in the air like a deadly bullet, Stone doesn’t physically react, but I can hear his blood rushing faster through his veins, smell the anger bubbling inside him as his wolf bristles at the threat.
I keep my composure and remind him, “I’m a runt, remember. I can’t give you purebred pups.”
His voice is intense, the coldness in
his tone chilling when he announces, “Nothing has changed, Pride.”
“I brought back the rogue,” I say.
At the mention of Logan, the master angles his head toward the private entrance leading to his office and scrubs his hand over his chin as he studies me. I resist the urge to shift my attention, but do wonder if that’s where the master is keeping my mate.
“And you somehow thought that would make me change my mind?”
When I don’t answer, the master puts his thumb under my chin to lift it. My hackles spike and I try not to cringe at the unwanted contact.
“Enlighten me,” he demands.
I draw a breath and let it out slowly before I explain, “I thought if I brought the rogue wolf back in a show of loyalty you might change your mind. You said you wanted me to mate with Stone because I was too wild, too unpredictable and a cub would calm me. Doesn’t my compliance prove I’ve settled? That I know my place?” I pause. Then for good measure add, “You once told me that I should be grateful because you keep us wolves safe. Well, I am grateful.” I stop and shiver. “I don’t ever want to have to run and hide from task force officers again.”
“You were gone an awfully long time, don’t you think?” His eyes scan my neck and I know he’s looking at the puncture wound near my jugular. The spot where he’d once inserted a tracking device that is no longer there. “I was beginning to believe you’d run away.”
“We were under attack. We had to go our separate ways,” Stone intervenes and I realize he’s saying it more for my benefit than the master’s. It’s his very careful way of corroborating our stories. But the truth is, I know Stone well enough to know how he thinks, and I was counting on him using that exact excuse. My initial plan depended upon it.
There is skepticism in the master’s eyes when he responds with, “So you said.” Stone opens his mouth but before he can speak again, the master hold his hand up to cut him off and zeroes in on the fresh scars marring his body. “What’s interesting is that not even a proper beating could get him to change his story.”
“Maybe that’s because he’s telling the truth,” I say in an effort to defend the alpha.
The master pauses, his attention shifting to my body. “I wonder what truths I could beat out of you, or better yet…” Once again he angles his head toward his office.
As his voice falls off a second time, hot, black fear races through me and I don’t miss the hidden meaning of his words. I’m intelligent enough to know that he’s threatening Logan’s safety, that he believes there is something between us—that he can use my empathy for the rogue wolf against me. I wonder how he’ll try to do it, exactly what kind of pressure he’ll apply.
My heart squeezes painfully in my chest and when his gaze narrows in on me I know exactly what he sees when he looks at me.
A monster.
But I know who the monster really is. If given the chance wolf shifters can lead regular lives. This man will always be twisted and evil.
My mother, as well as many of the other elders in the compound used to live normal lives until they were captured. They all used to be productive members of society and take to the mountains during the full moon in order to avoid hurting any innocent bystanders.
If only the world knew the truth. But how can I change the minds of millions? I’m only one girl. I can only take on one mission at a time, and currently that mission could mean the difference between life and death for every wolf in this compound.
As the master looks me over again—not a trace of softness to be found in his sinister eyes—the rain slows overhead, the dark clouds scuttle by in a brisk, noonday breeze. The afternoon sun struggles to make a presence and when a long warm ray finally manages to break through and streaks across the courtyard, the master lowers his umbrella and I blink against the sudden brightness.
Once again the master’s tone takes on a hard edge and he says, “You will be bred.” He pins me with a glare, gauging my reactions when he adds, “One week from tomorrow.”
When the moon is at its fullest.
My heart thunders, but thoughts of the full moon have me thinking of Logan and how he saved me from myself three weeks ago. I try to reach out to him, to connect, but my efforts prove futile. As I look into the master’s hard face I wonder why he hasn’t tossed Logan into the courtyard with the rest of us.
What does he want from him?
What will he do to get it?
Despite the years of hardening myself, there is nothing I can do to keep that worry off my face. The master opens his mouth to speak, but then stops to study me carefully.
I swallow and needing to get him to focus on something else I say, “If you don’t need to tame—”
“Maybe I need you to breed for other reasons, Pride.”
Why would he need to breed me?
He takes a threatening step closer and once again the hot stench of his anxiety washes over me like a deadly wave and turns my stomach inside out.
“Be thankful for that.” He grabs my cheeks, squeezing hard, and puts his face dangerously close to mine, so close in fact, I can smell the coffee and cinnamon danish he’d eaten for breakfast. His voice drops an octave, as if to emphasize his next point when he says, “Because if I didn’t need you, you’d already be dead.”
With that warning hovering in the air and zinging through my blood like a hot bolt of lightning, he lets me go and turns to Lawrence. With a dismissive wave, he says, “Get her cleaned up and bring her to me. You know where I’ll be.”
Lawrence hooks my collar with a chain and shoves me from behind to set me into motion. My feet move in front of me, but they feel numb and cold—much like the rest of my body. As my mind races I no longer register the mud or gnarled roots tangling in my toes, no longer feel the uncomfortable wetness of my drenched nightgown clinging to my body.
All I can think about is how terribly wrong things have gone, and what I must do to fix them. I’d made a vow long ago and will stop at nothing until I free these wolves and crush the master.
Stone is talking to me, reaching out to me, but I block him—my mind is too chaotic to understand what he’s trying to tell me—and the worry I hear in his voice simply makes me realize how desperate the situation has become.
But it’s that desperation that fuels me on and has my brain strategizing my next move. I consider the kitchen and all its contents as I’m led inside, looking for something, anything that can help me.
Water drips from my body and pools on the floor, and Mica hurries to mop it up. Her eyes meet mine as she moves past me and I can tell she wants to say something, but with Lawrence watching she pinches her lips together tightly and obediently returns to her duties.
The enticing smells coming from the bubbling pot on the stove causes my stomach to grumble, but I ignore the aching discomfort as Lawrence leads me to Miss Kara’s suite on the second floor. We move down the long hallway and I notice the house seems to be exceptionally quiet, the drone of the overhead lights, and the hum of the air conditioner piercing against the deafening silence.
I inhale as he leads me down the hall, searching for Logan’s warm, familiar scent, but the faint, memorable fragrance I catch instead has my senses going on high alert and my feet slowing.
No. It can’t be!
I glance at the ventilation system overhead and a hot fireball of terror blasts in my stomach as the scent hits me with the force of a hurricane gale wind. Unlike the faint aroma the master used to bait me in the forest, this smell is strong, fresh and instantly takes my mind on a journey back to when I was just a pup, to when my parents coddled me in the nursery.
What if I’m wrong? What if he’s not dead?
Papa?
5
My thoughts whirl out of control and my questioning mind races a million miles an hour as I’m led toward Miss Kara’s suite at the far end of the hall, which suddenly seems to be closing in around me, causing my lungs to seize in the most painful way.
Could my father rea
lly be alive? Could he really be here? In the mansion? Or is this simply another sick way for the master to bait me. To break me.
My heart crashes hard against my chest and my insides reel as Lawrence nudges me along, my shoulder bouncing off the wall.
“What’s the matter with you?” he taunts tightening my chain in his hand as my rattled mind wanders back to the past, to the very bitter day the master removed my father from his cell.
It might have been a long time ago, and I might have been a mere pup, but I remember it like it was yesterday. Remember my mother’s hot tears running down her face, remember her valiant effort to comfort me when she was in desperate need of comforting herself. What I don’t remember, however, is being led to the courtyard to watch the slaughter, nor do I remember hearing the gunshots reverberate off the distant mountains.
The master forces us to watch when he makes a kill, to teach us puppies that disobedience comes with a price. But he didn’t bring us into the courtyard that day, which suddenly has me questioning everything.
Is it possible that my father hadn’t been killed that fateful day long ago, that the master had a bigger purpose for him? If he’s been alive all these years, however, why is he only resurfacing now, when the master is building himself an army to fight a threat I’ve yet to discover?
With my legs trembling and my mind focusing on those I’ve loved and lost, I stumble forward and push down the pain I cannot afford to feel.
But how can I possibly stop thinking about my father’s scent? How can I possibly stop wondering if he’s really alive or if this is simply the master’s way of confusing my thoughts and keeping me off balance?
Then again, after experiencing freedom for the last three weeks, maybe being held captive again suddenly has me imagining things, conjuring up scents that aren’t here. Maybe I’m simply losing focus of what’s real and what isn’t.
Either way, as Lawrence shoves open the double doors leading to Miss Kara’s suite, I know I must put all thoughts of my father out of my mind for the time being. And the only way I can get through the next few hours is by convincing myself that the master planted his scent on purpose.
