Claimed by the Beast

by Natasha Knight

  * * *

  When Rachel woke, she was lying on her back, her arms extended at an awkward angle overhead. She made a sound and heard his footsteps before even opening her eyes and realized she hadn’t been dreaming. She had been kidnapped by this man who turned into some sort of animal, an animal far more frightening than any shifter she had ever seen.

  “You’ve got the gene,” he said.

  She opened her eyes and looked up to find him smiling the strangest smile.

  “Or some variation of it at least. That’s why I was drawn to you. That’s why your scent was too powerful to ignore.”

  She sat up, her head hurting a little. She moved so she sat on her heels closer to the beam to which she was handcuffed.

  “What did you give me?” she asked.

  “Just something to relax you, help you sleep.”

  “My head hurts.”

  “And you’re thirsty I’m guessing. I’ll get you a glass of water and some aspirin. Would you like something to eat?” He checked his watch.

  “How long have I been out? How long have I been here?”

  “A little while. It’s Monday morning. I’m going to get you something to eat and drink.”

  “I have to use the bathroom,” she said.

  The look on his face told her he clearly hadn’t considered that. Reluctantly, he walked over and squatted down in front of her. He looked at her for a long time, then reached into his pocket to retrieve the key to unlock the handcuffs and left them so they hung off one wrist. Once he had freed her from the beam, he gripped her arm and roughly stood her up. “Don’t try anything. Don’t make me hurt you,” he threatened.

  She glanced at his white-knuckled hand wrapped around her arm, then returned her gaze to his face. Something was wrong with him, it was like something would take hold of him and his mood would change from instant to instant. He was unpredictable, desperate, and dangerous.

  “I won’t. I promise. I just have to pee.” He held onto her, still staring at her. “Please, you’re hurting me now.” Nothing. “Lance?” she asked, using his name, hoping to snap him out of it.

  He blinked several times and his eyes softened a little. He then looked at his own hand as if he just realized how tightly he was holding onto her.

  “I’m sorry, Rachel,” he said, releasing her. “Bathroom is upstairs. All the doors and windows are locked. Shades are drawn and I live on a large acre of land. You won’t be able to overpower or outrun me. If you do try to run or scream, I will punish you. Do you understand?”

  She nodded, believing every word he said.

  He then smiled at her, the first genuine smile she had seen on his face, and led her up the stairs. She looked around. The kitchen was off to her right, and a great room made up the rest of the space. The sofa had been torn apart, the stuffing strewn about, the coffee table had been split down the middle, and the place looked like it had been ransacked.

  “This way,” he said, pushing her toward the bathroom.

  She glanced at his eyes once more, realizing the immense power within him, the animal that, she was slowly understanding, was not within his control.

  She walked into the bathroom but when she went to close the door, he wouldn’t allow it.

  “I’ll wait outside in case you need me,” he said.

  “I’d rather close the door for some privacy.”

  “I’m sorry but that won’t be possible.”

  “What do you think I’m going to do in here? There’s a toilet and a sink!”

  He remained calm but she wondered what emotions were just beneath that exterior. In the short time she had known him, his behavior had been erratic, unpredictable. He folded his arms across his chest and she knew the conversation was over. She went inside and used the bathroom as quickly as she could, washed her hands and stepped out. He took her back downstairs without incident and cuffed her to the beam once again.

  “I’ll be right back with a sandwich, water, and some aspirin for you. Be good.”

  Rachel looked around, realizing she would be his captive here for as long as it took for Elijah to realize she was missing and then find her or until Lance Weston decided to release her. But he wouldn’t do that. She knew it. He knew she carried the gene. She was valuable to him.

  The sound of a cell phone ringing startled her and she looked over at the counter. After four rings, it went to voice mail just as she heard Lance returning. He knelt on the mattress in front of her, set down a sandwich and a bottle of water, and fished for the keys to the handcuffs in his pocket. He unlocked them then re-cuffed her hands together in front of her. From his other pocket, he retrieved a bottle of aspirin, dropped two onto his palm and held them out to her.

  “Here you are,” he said. “Eat a few bites first, then take these.”

  He confused her. It was something her mom would have said. She picked up the bottle of water but realized she couldn’t take the lid off, bound as she was. He took it from her and twisted the top off before handing it back. He then watched her take a sip and waited until she picked up half the sandwich and took a bite before rising to his feet. His phone was blinking with a message and he picked it up to listen to it. She watched his face while he listened and noticed the tension there, then the annoyance.

  “Damn you, Dennison!” he said, slamming the phone down on the counter.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  He turned to her, his expression a warning. “An unpleasant man,” he answered. That was when she noticed the slight trembling in his left hand. Well, she probably only noticed it when he did. He put his right hand over it and squeezed. He seemed to grow more frustrated as he looked down at his hand. He then reached into the small refrigerator and retrieved a syringe. For a moment, she was afraid it was intended for her. She exhaled in relief when he held out his left arm and pressed the needle into it. He stood there a moment, eyes closed, breathing hard. Slowly, the trembling in his hand subsided and he turned to her looking refreshed.

  “Finish your sandwich, I need to examine you.”

  She wanted to ask what had just happened but he caught her off guard. “Examine me?” she asked, her eyebrows shooting up.

  “Yes. I need to test the particular version of the gene you carry to understand it. However, even if you do not carry exactly what I need, your eggs might.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said. “I’m not a shifter.”

  “You saw what I became the other night, Rachel?”

  She nodded.

  “That was not my intent when I injected myself with the serum. Let me back up. Some years ago I was asked to take part in a study that, if successful, would cure countless human diseases, my own among them. I was sent a number of tissue and blood samples over the years and I was, finally, successful. However, the lab I was working with was destroyed before my own research was finished, effectively ending the supply of samples I needed.”

  “When I say successful, at first, the drug worked as I hoped it would. Any trace of the disease, Parkinson’s in my case, vanished. My senses grew stronger, I grew stronger. But that wasn’t all…” He looked away for a moment. “I only intended to create a cure for a disease. Not only for myself, but for others suffering from it, but you saw what happened the other night. Now I need to learn where I went wrong, cure this unfortunate… side effect… and re-create the drug without it. When I came across you, your scent drew me. As a scientist, I understand how you can be of use to me. But as the creature, it was a different draw. That’s another reason I need to keep you here until this is finished, until the… animal… is no longer. I need to keep you here, in my lab, safely locked out of reach, away from harm. Safe from me when I turn again.”

  “You can’t keep me here forever.”

  “I hope not to have to.”

  “Do you know when it happens?”

  He shook his head no. “Although I cannot control when I shift, I do know now when it is coming. The do
or is the only entry into this space and it is impenetrable, even by the… creature… I become. I don’t want to hurt you, Rachel, but I do need you. I can’t let you go until I am able to fix this for your safety as well as for the benefit of myself and countless others.”

  “What if I don’t have what you need?”

  “I can use your eggs to create stem cells. Start at the beginning.”

  He spoke for a while but it was too scientific for her to follow.

  “What happens if you shift and you don’t get out of here in time? If I’m locked up, I can’t protect myself.”

  He stared at her for a long time. “It won’t come to that. I won’t allow it.”

  “But you said yourself, you have no control over it.”

  “No. I didn’t say that,” he defended, sounding suddenly annoyed. “I can feel it coming and I have some memory of events.”

  “That’s not going to help me!” she replied, standing.

  “Sit down.”

  “No!”

  He took a deep breath and she could see him trying to get himself under control. “Rachel,” he began, his tone tight. “I want you to sit down, eat your sandwich, and keep quiet so I can think. All this noise is too much for me.”

  “Too much for you? Being kidnapped and held prisoner is too much for me!” she said.

  He took a step toward her and she panicked, taking one back and throwing her bottle of water at him. He caught it in one hand without even glancing at it. His eyes were on her and they were glaring with anger now. In steps too fast for her to process, he grabbed hold of her, shaking her hard before pushing her to her knees.

  “Sit. Down,” he commanded.

  Her hands were cuffed and his grip too tight; she could only do as he said.

  “I’m sorry!” she began, not wanting to look at him, at his crazed eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  He looked down at her, then behind her. He must have located what he was searching for because in the next moment, he released her and walked behind where she knelt. Her heart was racing and her breath came fast as she watched him return with a roll of duct tape. He tore off a piece and before she could object, taped it over her mouth. Then, without bothering to uncuff and re-cuff her to the beam, he pulled her to it.

  “Put your arms up, forearms against the beam.” She could only stare at him in panic until he barked, “Now!”

  She did as he said, kneeling up on the mattress close to the beam, and watched as he wound the tape around her arms, connecting her to the beam. Only when his phone began to ring again did he stop, throwing the tape down to answer it.

  “Weston!” he barked into the phone, still staring at her.

  His face changed as she watched and he took some deep breaths, walking away from her.

  “No, Dr. Dennison. Not a bad time. Just having… an issue with a specimen.”

  A specimen?

  “That’s right, I’m working from home. Was feeling a bit under the weather.” There was a pause while the other man spoke, then, “No, I’m sorry, Dr. Dennison, but there may be a complication I was unaware of… that’s right… All right, I will touch base next week… Goodbye, Dr. Dennison.” He hung up the phone. “Fuck!”

  When he turned back to her, he was still angry. “Tell me, Rachel, am I going to conduct your examination while you’re conscious or would you prefer another shot of the stuff to help you sleep?”

  She shook her head, eyes wide. No way she wanted to be knocked out.

  “I’m glad to see you’re coming around,” he said.

  He then picked up a pair of scissors and walked toward her. She stared at the sharp blade and shook her head, making some sound of protest. He came up behind her and gripped a handful of her hair, pulling her head back so she had to look up at him, her eyes filling with tears at the pain.

  “I can’t examine you through all these layers, can I?” he spat.

  She made a sound through her gag, one of utter fear.

  “Be good and I’ll try not to cut you.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut when the cold metal touched the back of her neck and she heard the first snip of the thing. She tried to scream through her gag and he yanked her head backward again, warning her.

  “Still.”

  He continued cutting, all the way down her back then along her sleeves until her sweater fell from her body. Her jeans were next. At least he let her hair go and she leaned her head forward, trying to block his touch from her mind, trying but failing when she knelt in her bra and panties.

  “Shame to cut these. They’re so pretty,” he said, mocking her. She glanced over to find him standing back, his head cocked to the side, taking in her almost naked form.

  His grin chilled her as he snipped the shoulder straps first. He then leaned over her, bringing the scissors slowly to the center of her chest, sliding the metal down between her breasts and snipping once. She’d never forget that sound as her bra fell to the mattress.

  “Mmm…”

  She tucked her arms together, trying to cover her breasts as next, he knelt beside her, pulling her body back against his chest.

  “Shh…” he coaxed, his breath hot on her ear. She struggled against him, again trying to scream but any sound was muffled by the tape that gagged her. “Shh…”

  He ran the scissors down her belly and she watched its progress as he slid one blade inside her panties.

  “Be really, really still now,” he whispered.

  She was frozen and found herself leaning back into him in an impossible effort to get away from the blade.

  Snip.

  Rachel rounded her back, still trying to put off the inevitable as a tear fell from her eyes and onto his hand. He paused for a moment then lifted his arm. She watched as he brought his face to hers, their cheeks touching. He looked at that tear then licked it away, smiling, before finishing the work of stripping her, cutting away the last shred of her panties.

  Chapter Ten

  He felt her fear. It gripped him like an ice-cold hand wrapping around his heart. Marcus roared and ran faster. She was in trouble. Serious trouble.

  I’m coming, Rachel. He said it over and over again, hoping she could hear him after all this time. Guilt consumed him but in a way, it was what he wanted. She deserved to be happy. His coming back into her life at all had been selfish. He should have made Elijah lie to her, tell her he was dead. If she would have forgotten him, it would have been easier for her.

  Talking to Elijah the other day however, he knew she had not. She had been waiting all this time. Hoping. He berated himself, thinking of those eight years he was held prisoner, thought dead. How she hadn’t moved on then. How could he think she would move on knowing he was alive somewhere out there? He had been selfish, that was all there was to it.

  Her fear was almost vibrating inside him. The more he thought of her, the better he could feel it. It wasn’t a thought, not a clear thought at least. It was pure sensation. He wondered if he should have called Elijah. Unless Elijah was in wolf form, he wouldn’t hear Marcus. Elijah was closer to her, he could get to her house faster than Marcus. But some part of Marcus, another even more selfish part of him, wanted to be the one who saved her.

  Marcus forced all thoughts from his mind and focused on speed.

  * * *

  He was out of breath as he neared her house. The thought of what he would find there began to molest his mind when, as if right on cue, he heard Elijah. He had never felt so relieved, not even when Elijah had turned up at the lab last year just in time.

  Where is Rachel? he asked as he resumed his run.

  I’m on my way to her house. You feel it too? Something is wrong? Elijah asked.

  It woke me up, her fear. And I was in human form.

  Fuck!

  Does it have anything to do with that sound the other night? Marcus asked.

  I don’t know. I’ll be there in half an hour. How far are you?

  Not to
o much farther.

  You’re here? Elijah asked.

  Yes.

  There was a pause, then: I’ll see you at the house.

  Hurry.

  * * *

  Rachel shivered as she knelt there, naked, watching him set up a table in the middle of the room. He prepared needles and vials and other equipment, some of which she’d seen in a doctor’s office, some she remembered from science labs in school. It took all she had not to allow panic to set in when, after what seemed like an eternity, Lance donned his white coat without bothering to button it up, placed the scissors in his pocket, prepared a syringe with what she knew was the stuff he’d injected her with to knock her out before, and approached her.

  She pulled at her restraints but couldn’t move even an inch because of the way he’d taped her up to the beam. She made some sound from behind her duct tape gag, still trying in vain to free herself.

  “Now, Rachel. Be a good girl and I won’t have to put you to sleep for your examination.”

  She wasn’t even sure what words she was trying to say, but it didn’t matter, it all just came out as a jumbled, frantic sound from behind her gag.

  Lance knelt behind her and fisted her hair, tugging her head back like he had before, even more painfully now. “Are you going to be a good girl?” he asked, holding the needle up to her face, depressing the plunger so some of the liquid dropped onto her forehead, rolled down over her eye and onto her cheek.

  She met his eyes and nodded.

  “What’s that? A nod to say yes, you’ll be good? Or one to say yes, you’d like the shot?”

  She tried to answer but he just laughed.

  “Well, I’d rather have you awake. It will keep things more intimate between us.”

  He was crazy, this man, and she was terrified of him. But she had to go along, hope for the opportunity to free herself. She eyed the needle just an arm’s length from her but he must have seen her do it because he tightened his hold on her hair and yanked.