by Renee Rose
I put my hand to my neck. As soon as my fingers touch the seam running up my neck under the white leather, I remember. “It’s nothing,” I tell him. “A bite.”
“That’s not a bite,” the bear growls. “He fucking gnawed on you.”
I can only nod. My vampire master usually fed neatly from the artery, but that night he’d wanted to punish me.
Rough fingers fumble with the strip of leather. I realize he’s trying to unbuckle the collar and I panic, grabbing his wrist. He growls and I lie flat again, closing my eyes and pressing my hand to the bed. The leather tightens as he tugs, and when the buckle doesn’t yield he snarls again. A claw slides against my neck, close to my beating pulse, then a flick and the collar flies away. I grip the blanket, my breath coming faster.
Then my captor does something I’d never expect in a million years. Both his big hands settle around my head, gently angling it back to study the old wound.
“Shhhh, easy, kit.”
I blow out a long breath, willing myself to calm.
“That’s it. Good girl.”
When I open my eyes, he’s studying my neck, his hands cradling my head.
“Scarred,” he murmurs. “Takes a lot for a shifter to scar. There’s only one way for sure to do it.”
I nod. I know how shifters scar. The marks on my neck are like a brand, signalling my weakness. Telling any shifter who knows the signs that I’m vampire food. I’m scarred like a human.
I close my stinging eyes. I’m so sick of being a victim.
“Hey.” His thumb strokes my chin. “It’s okay. The scars aren’t so bad. I didn’t even notice them before.”
My face crumples further, and he tugs me close, saying gruffly, “Didn’t mean to hurt you.” His voice is gravelly but his arms around me are gentle. “Now,” he sets me back an inch so I can see his face, “we’re gonna lie down and sleep. It’s been a long night and you need it. No more running.”
I bite my lip. I can’t agree to that.
An avalanche-like rumble comes from his rock-hard chest. “You run, I won’t like it. There’ll be consequences. Understand?” His thick fingers squeeze my nape, not choking, but hard enough to make my spine go limp, signalling submission.
“Yes,” I answer. “I understand.” I understand consequences real well. I grew up in a clan of crazy, paranoid, in-bred fox shifters. The kind who sell their own to slavers because there are too many mouths to feed.
I wait but he doesn’t move, doesn’t change his grip. I’m beginning to think he’s going to hold me like this all day when he kneads my neck a little and tips my head back to meet his gaze. His eyes are light, his bear still close, but he looks calm, thoughtful. The rough stubble and jagged scar make him look rugged, not ugly.
That’s when it really hits me: he’s scarred, like me.
“Name?” he asks.
I blink at him, still wondering about the scar. Shifters don’t scar easy, as he said. How did he get his?
“Name, kit. What do I call you?”
“Me? Oh. Jordy.”
He grunts in acknowledgement and drops his hand. I immediately miss its comforting weight. I catch his hand before he can pull away. He stills as if my soft touch freezes him. Which I know it might—my hands are always cold. But I’m no match for a shifter, any shifter really, much less one of this bear’s size and weight.
“What’s your name?” I ask. A part of me is shocked by my brazenness. Another part of me is too curious to keep from asking, too eager to get to know him to let him go.
“Grizz. Short for Grizzly.”
I cock my head to the side. “That your real name?”
“Nope.” He moves away as if to underscore the point that his nickname is all I’m gonna get. I wipe my face of disappointment as he gets up from the bed.
“Here.” He’s back, shoving a carton of orange juice in my face. “You need to drink.”
He watches as I drain half the carton. “You need the bathroom?” he asks as I hand it back.
“No.”
He sits and turns off the light. In the darkness, my senses go on alert. Grizz is a big shape next to me, warm and golden. My fox sees the world through scent, and to her the grizzly is a softly glowing sun. He smells comforting and familiar, like sugar cookies or gingerbread.
The bed creaks as he sits down and I push back to the wall. “What are you doing?” I squeak. Not because I’m frightened of him, but because I’m excited, and my eagerness frightens me.
“Gonna get some shuteye. You too. We have a long day after this after an even longer night.”
I lick my lips, considering. “You’re keeping me here?”
“For now. No more roaming.” He gives me a dominant push. “No sneaking out.”
“What are you gonna do with me?”
“Nothing bad. Just sleep.” His voice drops an octave. “Do I have to order you?”
If he does, I won’t be able to wake up and try to get out of here. Until the order wears off, I won’t be able to get up at all.
“No, no,” I say. “I’ll sleep.” I burrow deeper into the covers, curling around a pillow. After a moment, the bed creaks as he does the same.
We both settle in side by side, back to back, and even though we’re not touching, I can feel him close to me.
I squeeze my eyes shut, and just like that, I fall under into the darkness of my dreams. There’s someone waiting for me there—a huge black presence with fangs and talons, reaching for me, watching with a single glowing eye.
“Jordy,” someone calls from far away. “Jordy, wake up.”
I come to with a gasp, my limbs thrashing. Someone’s holding me tight, almost crushing me. I wheeze and the grip loosens.
“You’re okay,” Grizz croons, one arm wrapped around my shoulders, the other at my waist. His body surrounds me completely. As soon as I realize that, I go limp. I can’t help crying a little, rubbing my face in Grizz’s soft t-shirt. My fingers dig into the fabric, curling into fists resting against his firm, muscled chest.
“I’m sorry.”
His big arms flex around me a second before relaxing. “It’s okay.”
“I had a bad dream,” I whimper. I sound pathetic, even for me.
“Shh, you’re safe here. It was just a dream.” Calloused fingertips brush my forehead.
“It wasn’t, though. It really happened. It was a memory.” Waiting for me. As if my body knew I was safe so my mind served up the memory of that night, delivering it to my consciousness so I could process it.
“It’s okay, kit.” He keeps stroking my face and hair and I close my eyes against the delicious sensation. “No one can get you here.”
“What about—”
“Vampires?” he answers for me and rearranges me in his arms so my head is tucked under his chin. “They can’t get in. This is my den. They’d need an invitation.”
I shiver. “They can send in other forces.”
I feel his grin as his jaw moves against my head. “They can try. Anyone finds this place, and enters, I’ll eat them.”
A giggle escapes me and I cut it off, unsure if he meant to make me laugh. His chuckle echoes around me and I relax again, a smile curling deep inside me. His light mood gives me courage to ask what I’ve been wondering since I got here.
“Why did you bring me here?”
Instead of answering he adjusts his hold on me again, this time so he can rub my back.
“It wasn’t locked,” he says gruffly after a while.
“What?”
“The cage wasn’t locked. You told me your master put you there, but the cage wasn’t locked.”
“Oh,” is all I can think to say.
“You could’ve left at any time, but you didn’t. Why?”
“To please my master.”
“He’s a shitty master.”
“He saved me. He provides for me and protects me.” I swallow anything else I would say. Augustine isn’t perfect, but he’s delivered on everything
he promised. That’s all I can ask for. I owe him my loyalty, and my life.
“He loaned you out, beat you, fed from you. Then threw you in a cage.”
“The cage is my home.”
He sighs as if he understands but wishes he didn’t. “You going to be okay without it?”
“I’ll be good,” I promise in a whisper.
“That’s not what I meant. Does your fox need the cage to feel safe?”
“No.” I lick my lips, wanting to explain that I already feel safe with him. “The cage…it was more for my master’s benefit. My master doesn’t know how to handle my fox. Once, she bit him.”
“Your master, Augustine. A vampire.” His tone is dry.
“Right.”
“He should be able to fucking handle it. In any case, turnabout’s fair play.” He mumbles the last part.
“What?”
“I mean, he’s biting you.” The big guy strokes the scar on my neck. “Maybe your fox doesn’t like it. Maybe she thought to give him his own taste of fangs.”
I giggle, even though it’s not funny. My master was so angry when my fox acted out. He didn’t let me out of the cage for a week.
When I explain this, the big man’s face gets dark. Scary dark. My fox pokes up her head, fascinated. I’m smarter. I sit quietly.
“Maybe you need a new master.”
Yes, I want to agree, but I don’t. I already feel guilty betraying Augustine like this.
“You need to sleep.” He settles us back on the bed, my back to his front. He takes time to lift my hair away from my face and neck, so my skin rests directly on the pillowcase’s smooth surface. I hold my breath the whole time, waiting for him to pull away.
“Will you…” I stop my question in its tracks. I’m not supposed to ask for anything. I’m so relaxed around Grizz I’ve forgotten the rules.
But he growls, “Will I what?”
“Will you keep holding me?” I can barely hear myself, but he hears me just fine.
“Sure, Kit. No problem. Sleep now.” It’s not an order but I’m out.
Chapter 4
Grizz
I’m up a little after one p.m., closing the door to the bedroom softly and growling at the bright light. I could’ve stayed in bed and held Jordy for hours, but we’ve got a lot to do, starting with meeting Declan and friends at the Fight Club. Almost twelve hours, and I’m no closer to figuring out why vampires are risking the peace treaty to take shifters than before. And now I have a captive, a complication I didn’t foresee.
Augustine is gonna shit his pants when he notices she’s gone. He might not care about her too much, but vampires don’t like other people playing with their toys without their permission. Control thing.
Augustine can kiss my werebear ass. Still, no need for him to know if he doesn’t have to. I took her telling myself I’d return her as soon as I got the info I need. She’s my only lead, the only shifter I know who services a vampire.
The fact that my heart flips when I see her standing in the entrance to the kitchen, sleepy-eyed and wearing nothing but one of my flannels has nothing to do with the reason I’m keeping her. She’s part of the job, nothing more.
I can’t describe how much I like the sight of her in my shirt and the pair of socks I left out for her. My cock is so hard it’s about to split in two.
I turn back to the counter to hide it. No sense scaring her.
“Sit down,” I tell her as she hesitates, blinking in the bright light. I dish up the meat I’ve been cooking, confident that she’ll obey. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, sir,” she answers softly. I’ve heard submissives call their doms ‘sir’ countless times, but the word never made my cock stir like it does on Jordy’s lips. Fates, what’s that about?
I turn, ready to tell her to just call me Grizz but she looks so small, so heart-wrenchingly fragile sitting at my kitchen table with her legs dangling, I don’t have the heart to correct her. So what if she calls me sir. Maybe it makes her feel more comfortable. I can sacrifice my comfort to make her happy.
The fact that I hope she’ll say it again means nothing. For some reason my bear is into her. Doesn’t have to mean anything.
I get back to cooking, asking over my shoulder, “Did you have any more dreams?”
She doesn’t answer right away. Her hand strokes her neck where her collar used to be, her gaze faraway.
I raise my voice over the bacon’s sizzle. “Jordy, did you hear? I asked if you dreamed again.”
“I heard.”
I raise a brow. Is she playing games, trying to resist me? This is the opposite of sir. Is she pushing for punishment? “And?”
“I had them again.” She keeps her eyes on the table. Her reluctance only makes me want to push more. I need to question her, anyway. With any other witness, I’d have done it long ago, instead of coddling her and letting her sleep. Fates, she has me off my game.
“Were they bad dreams?” I’m not letting her off so easily.
Her forehead creases. “Yes.”
“Was it about Augustine?
“No. Another vampire.”
“A vampire Augustine loaned you out to?”
She shrugs. Not a direct answer but I don’t push it. I set the bacon aside and start on the eggs and sausage. For all her reluctance to answer my questions, she’s at ease. Her fingers fiddle with items on my table—a pen, a stack of old junk mail.
Maybe I don’t have to do this the hard way. “How’d you get to be with Augustine anyway?”
She mumbles something. I set a cover on the frying pan, go to her and tip her chin up. “Tell me.”
“My family sold me.” She doesn’t look in my eyes. Her cheeks grow pink.
I swallow my anger and release her, but don’t move away. “Why?”
“Too many mouths to feed. My clan was getting too big, harder to hide. Foxes have to hide.”
I grunt in understanding. Prey animals usually survive by hiding.
“I also broke the rules,” she offers after a moment.
“How?”
“I helped a stranger. Someone outside of the clan, but a blood relative. She was searching for my older brother, and I gave her information to help her. But it put the clan in danger, so when there was a chance to get rid of me, they took it.”
“That’s fucked up,” I growl. Her face falls.
“How did they sell you to Augustine?”
She shrugs, looking miserable. “There were these men in dark masks. They smelled blank, like their scent was wiped away. Then there was an auction, and I ended up with Augustine.”
I should be focused on this information and be relentless about asking her follow-up questions to find out as much as I can about the shifter slavers, but I can’t. All I can focus on is Jordy. Her shoulders are up by her ears, her scent sad and ashamed. No wonder she doesn’t want questions about her past. She’s probably toning down the horrible way she’s been treated, letting the memories fade. If I’d been through all that, I’d have nightmares too.
I grip her shoulder. I want to comfort her, but what am I gonna say? “It’s okay.” Is it me or does she lean into my hand a little before I remove it?
I go back to making breakfast. We fall into silence, but Jordy doesn’t seem to mind. She’s comfortable sitting where I told her to sit, sifting through things on the table. She even picks up a pen and starts doodling in the corners of an old coupon flyer.
“Why do you think he wanted you?”
Still drawing with the pen, she answers readily. “I’m a submissive.”
“So?”
“Sweetblood. That’s what they call us.”
“I thought sweetbloods were all human.”
“No. There are human submissives.” She’s got her head down, still doodling. “But Augustine says they take work.”
I lean back on the counter as I think about this. “Humans submissives need to be seduced and coddled. And you can’t just make them disappear. But buy a prey
shifter at an auction and you can do what you want.”
“Right.”
“You were already off the radar in hiding with your clan. To the world, you don’t exist.”
She shrinks a little more. The pen in her hand stills.
“Jordy.” I wait until her gaze flicks to me. “I’m not asking about this because I want to. It’s part of my job.”
A pause and she gives a short nod. It’s not much, but it makes my bear feel better.
Jordy
Grizz bends over the stove, his corded biceps bunching as he stirs the sizzling meat. He covers the pan and heads to the fridge, rummaging around there for another package wrapped in butcher’s paper. He moves fluidly for such a big guy. His powerful bulk flows from the fridge to the stove and the controlled grace of his movements makes my breath flutter in my chest.
My fox is fascinated by him. I have to admit, she has a point. He’s so large and rugged, he belongs on a mountain, chopping down trees. On a construction site, working with his hands. Or in a war zone, unleashing the violence I sense inside him. Watching him cook in the kitchen is like having Godzilla knit you a sweater. The great and powerful executing the mundane. Every little domestic thing he does is a miracle.
“What did Augustine do once he had you?” he asks. I focus on my hands and the point where the pen touches the paper. The ink leaks out easily and I doodle swoops and swirls. A flowered vine grows in the margin of the faded newspaper.
“Nothing too bad. He told me he was my master. I was supposed to obey. If I didn’t he’d punish me. I was rewarded for my obedience with sexual pleasure.”
Grizz growls a little at that—I’m not sure if it’s the punishment or reward he objects to. “And he’d loan you out.”
“Yeah. I liked that less. Most of those doms respected his boundaries, though.” I shiver and clutch the pen tighter in my left hand, while my right presses to my chest and rubs the itchy skin over my heart. I jolt when I realize Grizz is watching me, eyes narrow. His gaze follows my hand and I drop it in my lap. I wait for him to say something, but he grabs a plate and loads it up for me, setting it down with a decisive clunk.
