Were Slave (2010)

by Slater, Lia

  Each moment he spent with Nayla, she gave a little more of herself to him. In the privacy of her bed chambers, they were equals, enjoying each other's bodies. Giving each other boundless pleasure. He'd grown acquainted with every inch of her body as she had his.

  Outside her chambers, she kept her distance. Probably afraid of what her precious country would think of her if they saw her give an ounce of respect to him. To her WereSlave.

  To hell with it, he thought. Why did it matter what her actions were? As long as his pack was taken care of. They'd soon be free of this bondage and of this country.

  And Mace would be free of Nayla.

  He tightened his jaw and reminded himself, yet again, that she was the enemy.

  Saul, the guard who smelled curiously like wolf, stood beside him. "I'm afraid your hour is up for today."

  Mace nodded to Kaige. It was a silent assurance that the pack wouldn't be forgotten. No, Mace would die a thousand torturous deaths before he allowed his pack to perish in this god-forsaken dungeon.

  He followed Saul up the dark, cavernous stairway, through the servants' quarters, the kitchen and into the main foyer. There was an unusual bustle around the castle today. Mace stepped out of the way while large flower arrangements were carried through the door and into the grand ballroom.

  Saul looked to him. "The Harvest Ball is tonight. It's a grand affair."

  "I see. Nayla hadn't mentioned it." Mace used her given name freely, refusing to call her his Queen. The formality was ridiculous considering she'd sucked his cock just that morning and every day since he'd taken residence in her chambers.

  Saul didn't seem to care. "I'm sure the Queen would have liked for you to attend the Ball. Though, the council would never agree to something so daring."

  "Really?" He hardly believed it. "Because I'm a monster?" Mace continued to follow the guard's lead through the castle.

  After a pause, Saul looked back at him and smiled. "I know better than that."

  "You would. Does Nayla know you're part wolf?"

  The middle-aged man stopped at the end of the hall and glanced around to make sure no one was listening. "No one knows," he said in a low voice. "How did you figure it out?"

  "Your wolf scent is weak but I can still smell it when you're near me like this. Where did you come from, brother?"

  Saul shook his head. "I'm no one's brother. I'm the bastard son of the late Queen Beatrice and her WereSlave. She gave birth in secret and handed me to the servants."

  Mace's jaw twitched. And Weres were considered the animals? "Have you ever changed with the moon?"

  "A few times when I was a boy." He looked around the room again. "I've learned to control it."

  "You should tell Nayla. She respects you and might think differently of me and the other Weres if she knew her own guard is one of us."

  Saul smiled. "Do you want her to think differently of you? Is it important to you?"

  "Of course. It would mean my pack could have a home. With your country's acceptance we would no longer be vagrants." Mace smirked, realizing how ridiculous he sounded to his own ears. "But that would be asking for a miracle." He slapped Saul's shoulder. "Were brother, your secret is safe with me."

  Saul nodded. "The country's hatred runs deep, especially after the war. I'm not sure peace among humans and Weres is possible." He grinned. "Well, I wasn't until I noticed how you've affected the Queen. Look what's happened in the short time she's known you. Your pack is treated as if you're guests to the castle and you're without chains."

  Mace remained silent for the rest of the trek to Nayla's chambers. It was foolish to hope for peace. Even more foolish to entertain the idea that Nayla would ever want him to be more than her WereSlave. He clenched his fists at his sides as renewed anger built inside of him. If only he didn't crave the woman's touch.

  * * * * *

  Nayla had greeted each of the castle's guests as they made their way into the ballroom. Everyone, including Stephen. He looked as good as he did when he'd been her lover just over four years ago. Broad shoulders, a lean waist and a smile that could flatter any woman. Though, oddly, her heart didn't pitter-patter like it usually did whenever she was around him.

  He'd always held a special place in her heart, as the only man she'd ever given herself to before her bloodlines forced her into being the Queen. He'd courted and pursued her for months and she hadn't seen a reason to deny him. Her destiny of solitude had inspired her to be a little naughty while she still could. And it had been worthwhile at the time.

  She looked at her ex-lover, who stood amongst the other bachelors. Rightfully so, she thought. No woman would ever be good enough to claim his heart. That was why he'd been such a fine choice back then. There'd been no chance of either of them falling in love. Sure, Nayla had come close and it had hurt to say goodbye. But Stephen had made it easy. He'd moved right on to the next woman without a complaint.

  Across the room, he met her gaze and flashed her an intimate smile that told her he remembered every minute of the wicked nights they'd spent together. Nayla averted her attention away from Stephen and to the elaborate food table. Somehow the memories of him weren't as exciting as they used to be and she had no desire to fantasize about what could have been.

  Not tonight.

  A clear image of Mace entered her mind and she hid a giddy grin behind her gloved hand. Although Stephen had been a respectable lover, he didn't compare to her generous Were. Their time in bed rarely consisted of sleep. Not when Mace lay naked beside her underneath the sheets. She couldn't resist running her hands over his rigid muscles, through his silky black hair, over his powerful lips.

  His lips. Oh God. The man knew how to kiss. And lick. And suck.

  She sighed and wished she were with him now instead of at this ridiculous ball. The extravagant event cost her country far too much money. Yet her council voted for it every year. A night of free food and liquor for the country's elite. How could they resist?

  "Penny for your thoughts," a familiar voice said too close to her ear.

  Nayla didn't bother looking up at Stephen as he rested a hand on the armrest of her throne, allowing his finger to lightly brush her bare forearm. Still as bold as ever.

  She made sure no one could hear her words before saying, "Wasting your time with the celibate Queen, are you? I'd think you'd spend your energy on one of the many single women lurking about."

  He leaned in closer. "I've heard a rumor that you're not all that celibate as of late."

  Her cheeks heated. "Have you?" She refused to dignify his insinuation with an answer. Her private time with Mace was no one's business but her own.

  "I must admit I'm a bit jealous, even if he's only a WereSlave."

  "Mace is more than that," she blurted out before she had time to filter her words. She couldn't help herself. She'd grown to realize Mace deserved more respect than most of the humans she came into contact with. The conversations they'd shared in the privacy of her room had been engrossing and titillating. His wit and intelligence had surprised and delighted her, and his passionate lovemaking never ceased to amaze her. She found it easy to forget he was a werewolf, an animal with the ability to kill. As long as he didn't turn, well, everything was perfect.

  Mace was perfect.

  The mere thought of him made her legs wobbly and her heart pound. "I've found that the Weres aren't what they seemed," she said, realizing Stephen was looking at her as if questioning her sanity.

  "Really?" He raised his eyebrows higher up his forehead and white lines formed around his pinched lips. "Is that so?"

  She smiled up at him and patted his arm. "But why would you be jealous, silly man? You're the most eligible bachelor in Paqualette. You know as well as I do you have your pick of any woman in this room."

  The tight line of his lips softened then quirked up to a playful grin. "What good is any of it, Nayla, if I can't have you?"

  She couldn't help but laugh at his bold flattery. He'd always been an expert charme
r, whether he believed his words or not.

  "You laugh?" He brought his hand up to his chest. "My heart is broken and you laugh."

  "You'll live, I'm sure." She nodded toward a group of attractive women. "Who's your pick tonight?"

  "Trying to get rid of me so fast, are you? Want to get back to your Were?"

  "Simply saving you precious time."

  "I have all the time in the world, sweet woman. Might the Queen spare my feelings just this once and grant me a dance?"

  "Oh, for God's sake." She laughed again. "You always were a stubborn man."

  "Be that as it may..." He held out his hand for her to take.

  "Fine. One dance." It would make the time go by faster at least. And she was sure she was doing dear Stephen a favor. Dancing with the Queen was considered an honor among men. The dance floor would be cleared and all female eyes would be on him.

  Yes, he was one heck of a charmer.

  * * * * *

  Mace gritted his jaw as he watched Nayla dance with the human. He stood behind the massive column at the rear of the ballroom, hidden from the guests. He'd dressed in clothes meant for walking the castle, plain pants and a linen shirt, not appropriate attire to wear to this sort of festivity, he could tell.

  The guards had expected him to be good and stay in Nayla's chambers for the evening, but curiosity drew him here. The cheery music, the ornate clothing, the dancing, the spread of food--he'd never seen anything like it.

  And he'd wanted to keep an eye on Nayla, apparently for good reason.

  The man who held her in his arms was like all the rest of the pampered humans in the room, well-groomed and spoiled by wealth. Mace couldn't help but wonder if Nayla found him attractive. She didn't look uncomfortable as one of his hands held hers and the other pressed against her mid-back.

  No, she appeared at ease as she gazed up at him with those seductive green eyes, while keeping a proper distance from her dance partner. How she could pull off both regal and wanton at the same time was beyond him.

  The dance floor was clear as the couple swayed to the sweeping rhythm of the string ensemble. All eyes were on them as the man whispered in her ear, causing her to giggle.

  Mace swallowed the growing lump in his throat. He'd never seen her laugh like that. Open and free. Without caution. Without fear.

  Who the hell was this man who could make her seem so cheery and carefree? The man's greedy hand slid slowly down to her lower back as he drew Nayla closer. Too goddamn close. Mace's chest tightened when she didn't object. Her face didn't show any discomfort at all. Obviously, her companion was no stranger.

  Mace glanced around at the people gathered about the ballroom floor. None seemed to mind the intimacy of the dance. Although some whispered and pointed. Mainly the women. But no one did anything to stop this transgression. Didn't they care that this bastard was taking advantage of their Queen?

  He had to do something. Anything to get those bloody hands off of her. He took a step forward but stopped when the music ended. The man ushered her through the crowd and Mace lost sight of her for a moment as a new dance began.

  Laughter, voices and music filled the air. People scattered, blocking his view. There. He spotted them as they stepped out through a pair of balcony doors. It was of little solace to see one of Nayla's guards follow behind them.

  Unwanted jealousy burned in his chest as he wondered who this man was to Nayla. Would she allow him to touch her? To kiss her?

  Ah hell. It bothered Mace more than ever that he didn't have her respect. Bothered him more than it should. As a Were, he was only considered her bed companion. And this man, the man who had made her laugh with a joy he'd never seen, was far more than that. Or at least he must have been at one time.

  Mace cursed under his breath. He needed to get out there before anything happened. He took another step forward but someone grabbed his arm and yanked him back.

  "What the hell do you think you're doing?" A large man with short blond hair and a mustache stood before him. Mace remembered seeing him walking through the dungeon, thinking he must be one of Nayla's councilmen. Mace also remembered he hadn't liked the looks of him. Devious and malignant. He'd protested Mace's appearance in the dungeon as well as the fair treatment of the Were prisoners.

  Mace easily jerked his arm free. He might have to play WereSlave to Nayla for the time being but he refused to allow anyone else to put his hands on him. "Who are you?"

  "You may call me Councilman Fenton. I've been looking for you everywhere. What are you doing out of the Queen's chambers, boy?"

  Boy? Mace hadn't been a boy in over a hundred years. But he didn't have time to argue with this ass. He turned and started toward the balcony again.

  "Wait." Fenton grabbed Mace's shoulder. "I have a plan to help you and your pack."

  "My pack?" The reminder stopped him from taking another step and he turned to give Fenton his attention. "What sort of plan?"

  "I've made it clear that I don't agree with keeping you and your dogs alive and treated like they're guests at this castle. It's a crime against humanity."

  "You're losing me, Fenton," Mace said through his tight jaw.

  "I want you all out of this country and I'll do anything to make it happen. The Queen has lost focus since the moment you stuck your filthy cock inside her. Nothing is getting done and the country is suffering for it."

  Mace fisted his hand, ready to knock the man out. "You should be careful how you speak of her, human. You see there are no chains on me."

  "Hear me out." Fenton held his hand up and lowered his voice. "The Ball will last another two hours at least. I'll go to the dungeon, dismiss the guards and loosen your pack's chains enough for them to break free."

  Mace tilted his head in interest. "What's the catch?"

  "I need your word that you'll leave the country--every one of you--and you'll never come back." Fenton's face paled and perspiration dampened his pasty forehead. "And I ask that you take Nayla with you."

  Mace would've thought it was a joke but Fenton couldn't look any more serious. "You want me to abduct your Queen?"

  "Yes." Fenton jutted his chinless jaw in a sad attempt to appear superior. "I'll have her called to her chambers in one hour. Do whatever it takes. I don't care if she's dead or alive, as long as her body goes with you."

  The idea of people like this surrounding Nayla sickened him. "I'd never harm her. What kind of man are you?"

  "The kind who's had his fill. My reasons are none of your concern. When the clock strikes midnight, I'll visit Nayla's chambers. If she's still there, I'll call the guards' attention to your pack's absence and you'll be hunted down and decapitated on the spot." He paused and glanced around. "And I'll get rid of her majesty with my own hands. Believe me, there are more than a few others around here who wouldn't mind helping me do away with her."

  Blood boiling with rage, Mace grabbed Fenton's neck and threw him up against the wall, pinning him there. "If you lay a hand on her I'll tear out your goddamn heart with my bare hands." The wolf in him begged to be free at the thought. What he wouldn't do to sink his teeth into this man's throat and rip out his airway. The bastard wouldn't be a threat to Nayla if he were dead, would he?

  Fenton scratched at Mace's hands, attempting to free himself but there would be no escape for the fool. "Please," he choked out. "You need me."

  "Hearing your last breath is what I need," Mace said, but forced himself to loosen his hold on the man's neck. For his pack's sake. Whether he liked it or not, Fenton could be their only hope to be free again. Mace had to take this opportunity, afraid there might not be another.

  Fenton inhaled a breath and coughed, like the weak human he was. "Good choice, Were."

  Mace growled and dropped his hands. "I'll be watching out Nayla's balcony. If I see that my pack is released, I'll take her with me, if only to protect her from the likes of you."

  Did Nayla have any idea of this mutiny? Probably not. She was too trusting and he hated that he worr
ied for her safety. He loathed that he cared for her but it was pointless to deny the raw truth. Fenton or no, Mace never would have left her. She belonged to him. He only hoped she wouldn't fight her destiny as his mate.

  Fenton nodded and straightened his collar. "Like I said, whatever it takes."

  Chapter Six

  Nayla rushed up the steps as fast as her feet could take her, the music from the Ball becoming a distant sound. As soon as Fenton informed her of Mace's dire injury, she'd shucked her impractical shoes and started running.

  How could he be injured? With his strength and immortality, she thought he could withstand anything. But Fenton had seemed so grave when he'd whispered in her ear that her WereSlave had tried to take his life. Mace had slit his own throat in an attempt to decapitate himself.

  No. It couldn't be. He'd never leave his pack. He was loyal to them. But would he leave me? Her chest constricted and she carelessly stumbled on the hem of her gown at the top of the stairway, scraping her hands on the hard ground as she fell. Damn it. She didn't have time for her clumsy ways. Mace needs me. Not bothering to dust herself off, she pushed to her feet and continued to her chambers.

  No guards were present, but Nayla didn't find it odd since she'd given most of them the night off. The evening of the Harvest Ball was a jolly time for all of Paqualette, whether one was invited to the Ball or not. She assumed the remaining guards were downstairs, watching over the event.

  In any case, she'd ordered Fenton to send three up along with the castle's physician. She wouldn't allow Mace to die. He meant too much to her. She only wished she'd seen this coming.

  A lock of her hair fell from its tight bun and into her eyes. She shoved it behind her ear and pushed through her door, silently praying that Mace was okay.

  The room was dark except for the light of the moon shining through the opened terrace door. Nayla warily stepped inside and searched for any sign of Mace, or, God forbid, his blood. She saw nothing unusual except for that damn door. The boards had been pulled from it and thrown onto the floor.