by Delta James
“You are completely mad,” she whispered. “Don’t I need a full moon to become a werewolf?”
He had snorted. “Those who foolishly gave us the label of werewolf have no idea of our power or how great it is. We are not some hideous, distorted form of human. We are pure wolf and if they knew what we were capable of they would tremble at our feet, which they may yet do. Now, do as you’re told... try to call your wolf forward.”
“Here, wolfie, wolfie, wolfie,” she giggled.
DeMoncada backhanded her. Other than spanking her, it was the first time he had struck her. She brought her hand up to her cheek.
“Hand at your side or I will strike you again.”
Slowly she lowered her hand, never taking her eyes off of him.
“Eyes down.”
She complied.
“Now call your wolf.”
“You’re mad,” she whispered. “In fact, you’re a fucking lunatic.”
“Think so? What if I were to tell you that while I held you captive, your sister, Catherine, had chosen to become one of us. She may have come to Italy originally to find you, but quickly abandoned that search once DeMedici took her to his bed. She could easily have discovered your whereabouts but has been too consumed with the carnal pleasures that can be found as mate to an alpha male of our kind. What if I told you that even now she carries the seed of the great DeMedici pack in her belly and will soon deliver that child to her mate. There is a very good chance that the offspring will be female for it is said your line has not produced a male in many generations. If that is so, your price will far exceed even my wildest expectations.”
“My sister would never choose to become one of you. She’d never abandon me.”
Shannon couldn’t imagine any of this was true. Catherine would never give up her humanity. She still wasn’t certain that the things he was telling her weren’t the ravings of a madman. And yet, she felt different and not just from the treatment she had endured these many months, but as though somehow fundamentally something had changed.
The sinister chuckle burst into her thoughts like a pin pricking an overfilled balloon.
“And yet she did. She sits at the right hand of Marco DeMedici, as his pack’s Madonna. They say they are fated mates and that Marco makes use of her cunt daily and knots her frequently. The man is disgusting. He could be so much more than he is. He could rule the world, but chooses instead to fuck your sister and remain in Italy. I had thought at some point to try and join forces with him, but he treats his women like some kind of precious gift. You and your gender are nothing more than a receptacle for your mate’s lust, a vessel to produce his heirs and to make his life easier and more enjoyable.”
Shannon had felt as though someone had stabbed her in the gut and then twisted the blade before removing it from her body. He had to be lying. Catherine would never have quit searching; never have embraced some new life. Would she?
Without warning, he backhanded her again. “Now shift, damn you.”
The blow seemed to rattle her teeth and morph with the pain of Catherine’s betrayal. Shannon heard herself growl and felt the wolf within spring forward. The transition from human to wolf was painful, but she could feel the power within her expand. She sprang forward as if to rip his throat out. Instead she knocked him off his feet and made a run for the open door. She turned toward what she thought was the way out. She could hear deMoncada screaming and boots thudding on the stone behind her.
Shannon could now smell the outside. Maybe this wolf thing had something to recommend it. She bounded through an opening into what appeared to be a large gathering room of some kind. On the far side were French doors. She ran as fast as she could and hit the split between them with her shoulder. The pain was negated by the fact that they sprang open and she was free. Not safe she knew, but a damn sight closer than she had been since this nightmare began.
There was nothing but open fields, but she headed toward the closest copse of trees. She had just begun to think that she might actually make it when she felt a searing sensation in her flank. She swung her head around to see the last of the contents of a tranquilizer dart being injected. She felt the liquid warmth and languor begin to take over her body. She howled in frustration and rage before succumbing to its effects.
Slowly Shannon inched her way up from the inky depths. The world began to come back into sharp focus—the cot on which she had slept for months bespoke of her failure. She had not managed to get away. In fact she was right back where she started—naked with her arms and legs in restraints.
For a brief moment, she kept her eyes closed, hoping to give herself time to process all that had happened. She had turned into a wolf. An actual four-legged, bushy-tailed wolf and had almost escaped. She had almost made the safety and freedom of the trees at the edge of the property when she’d felt the damn dart dispense its liquid unconsciousness into her system. But there would be a next time. And next time, she wouldn’t fail. Next time, she would be free.
“Ah, so finally you are awake.” DeMoncada’s syrupy, slimy voice penetrated her thoughts. “Come on, little wolf, open your eyes. I know you are awake.”
Shannon wondered idly why he didn’t seem angry. In fact, he sounded almost gleeful as though she had given him a great gift. Surely, her attempted escape should have infuriated him. As her eyes opened and focused on his well-groomed image, she realized what she had heard was right. He wasn’t in the least bit angry with her. Not only had his voice held a smug, entitled, and arrogant tone, but the look on his face matched it.
He walked to her cot and unfastened the restraints holding her arms and legs.
“You look puzzled, little wolf. Did you expect me to be angry at your feeble attempt to escape? Did you think I did not plan for your foolishness?” he chortled as he continued to speak in the same self-congratulatory tone of voice. “Your shift was well done and your inner wolf is as magnificent as I expected. Her appearance, elegance, and grace will only enhance the value to the alpha who buys you. We have pictures and video to show of your pathetic bid for freedom and how easily you were brought down. But there are some who will like your spirited willfulness.”
As he spoke he sat down on the edge of the cot and hauled her over his lap. DeMoncada landed the first of many sharp, staccato blows to her upturned and exposed rump. He continued in the same lecturing tone an adult might use on a child who had misbehaved as he spanked her harder than he had in the past.
“As you should have come to expect, you must be punished for your very naughty behavior even though it was as I planned.” He chuckled, apparently very amused with himself. “I knew that if you had a choice whether to attack me or make a bid for your freedom, you would choose to try and escape. You gender is so predictable. I deliberately stood away from the escape route so you would have to make a choice—try to end me or escape.”
He moved his hard hand around to encompass her entire bottom, hitting her sit spots and the tops of thighs, causing Shannon to cry out involuntarily. “Such a naughty little she-wolf. You must learn to obey and submit to your alpha. For now, that is me. And while I will only spank you and perhaps place a plug in your pretty little rosette, many of our kind will not be inclined to be so lenient. Be glad that the date for the auction draws close. If I could ensure you would heal properly, I might be inclined to give you your first taste of leather. Such a shapely bottom such as yours will look best decorated in stripes. If it is one of my close associates who purchases you, I may ask him if he would be willing to share pictures of you with your first welting.”
Her cries aside, Shannon’s fury had increased exponentially until she was close to losing the iron grip of control she had been able to maintain throughout her ordeal. DeMoncada’s demeanor and patronizing tone almost made her forget that if she wanted the spanking to stop, she needed to let her body go limp and appear to surrender. As she willed herself to do just that, deMoncada delivered the final blow.
“I have been holding off on
announcing the final arrangements and invitations to my auction. I wanted to be able, if possible, to add an enticing bit of good news. Your sister has delivered a female born-shifter. DeMedici’s brat will make you worth more than your weight in gold. It is indeed a good day. I have proof that you can shift, that your wolf form is every bit as alluring as your human one, that you have plenty of spirit left that’s in need of taming. And best of all your bloodline favors females. It is a good thing your body now responds in the proper way to a man’s use of you. I believe you will be mounted often and hard as your mate seeds your belly repeatedly.”
Shannon felt as though all the air and life had gone out of her body. Her one bid for freedom had failed and had only presented itself so he could prove she was more valuable than advertised. Her anger, pain, and sense of betrayal knew no bounds. He gave her one last, hard swat before pushing her from his lap and onto the floor of her cell. Shannon lay curled in a ball, barely able to move. She reached into the depths of her soul and renewed her vow. She would find a way to kill this bastard if it took the rest of her life...
Chapter Four
The passage of time had ceased to hold any interest to her except to mark its passing. Shannon guessed it had been almost a year since she had been snatched from Florence. The next morning when deMoncada entered her room bringing her breakfast she knew something was about to change. One of his thugs usually brought her meals and watched her eat. The smell and thought of eating it almost caused her to retch but she forced herself to eat while she listened to him talk.
“Well, my pretty, after the good news of your sister’s birth, the time and place of the auction has been set. You and I shall go to one of our breeding facilities to pick up several girls I need to examine to determine their worth before selling them.”
They arrived in Belfast where deMoncada intended to find buyers for four women they had picked up along the way. Three were so traumatized by what they’d been through they could barely speak. Shannon feared for their sanity if not their lives. DeMoncada was being careful to ensure that she was not marked in any way. He had found the most effective way to keep her in line was to threaten or abuse the other women captives.
Through all stages of their trip, deMoncada took her with him everywhere. Sometimes he merely had her collared with a leash when she was too exhausted to do more than offer a token resistance and other times, she was locked into two waist shackles with the two thugs that had snatched her off the street in Florence keeping her on taut lines between them.
It was at an estate outside of Belfast that her second real opportunity for escape came. Even though they were held captive and mostly not allowed to talk amongst themselves, the women captured by deMoncada had begun to whisper of a redheaded woman who was liberating women and getting them to safety. Shannon had begun to believe the woman was nothing more than a story passed among desperate women who were being so ill-treated that they clung to the hope that they would be saved.
Shannon was sitting shackled to a narrow bed in large country estate outside of Belfast, when she had appeared. The redheaded woman severed the rope binding Shannon’s hands and then carefully cut through the gag. She then helped Shannon free herself from the shackles.
“Tell me you have a way out of here,” she whispered to the woman.
The woman grinned. “I do.”
“And tell me that you have Sara and the other three girls.”
“I wouldn’t leave without them. Let’s get out of this window, pick up the other girls, and hightail it for my brother’s pack.”
Shannon hugged her briefly before climbing out the window. “You’re her... aren’t you?”
The woman grinned infectiously. “I have to be. No one else wants the job.”
“I don’t know... I might be interested in a month or two. I could use a little payback.”
The woman’s smile broadened. “Let’s get you to safety and then we’ll talk.”
They had almost made it to the small stand of trees when a commotion started up behind them and a number of the men from the manor house were in hot pursuit.
Over the sound of the gunfire, Shannon could hear the redhead yell, “Run. All I’ve got is a knife.”
Shannon skidded to a halt, causing the other woman to do the same.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Shannon replied, “It’s me they want. Get the rest of those girls and get away. I’ll draw them off of you. Go!”
“No. Start running we can get to the Range Rover and get away from here. My brother’s pack is about five hours away. They won’t let them take you.”
Shannon smiled sadly. “Sara keeps telling me these bastards are an aberration of your kind and that most of these men, while functioning within some dystopian version of male domination, are good men. I was turned without my consent or even knowing about your kind. It’s hard for me to believe her. But if she’s right, our splitting up is your best shot at getting these women to safety and what passes for freedom. But whatever it is, I have to believe it’s a damn sight better than what we’ve experienced the past few months or what deMoncada has in mind for us.”
“I’m not leaving you!”
Shannon shook her head. “You have to. If I split off, most, if not all, will come after me. If they don’t, deMoncada will have their heads... literally. He’s got an auction set in six weeks in Montreal.”
They both eyed the men who were rapidly closing in.
“I’ll be there. I swear to God... I’ll be there. If I’m not, I’m dead, but others will come.”
Shannon smiled. “I believe you. I’ll see you in six weeks. I’m buying.”
They hugged briefly and Shannon sprinted away, running for her life. No, not hers for she had no doubt she would be retaken. She ran for those girls the redheaded woman had set free. Shannon’s only hope was that the redhead would be able to fend off any men that tried to prevent the escape of the others. She made her way toward the forest; she’d be harder to track and retake in its midst as opposed to the open ground. She could hear them hollering at her to stop. She had to smile. As she’d told them before, she had no intention of following their orders.
Shannon ran through the woods, leaping downed logs and crashing through the underbrush. The men chasing her were slowly, but surely gaining ground; she saw an opening and forced herself to go faster. She came out and skidded to a halt. There before her was a large gorge. The lack of rain had led to the river having receded from its normal level. There was no way for her to jump far enough to get to water; if she jumped, it would be to her death. The cliff was far too high and there was nothing but rock below.
She thought briefly about ending it. Perhaps taking her own life was a more noble resolution to her life than what these bastards had planned for her. So far, she had not been subjected to rape, but only because they wanted that as an enticement for those who were to bid on her in six weeks in Montreal. As she thought about jumping, she remembered her vow—there was her reason to live—to kill the bastard who had done this to her and to others.
Chapter Five
Scarborough, Yorkshire, England
James Norris was bored. The only son to the alpha of the Ravenscar pack, he found there was little to nothing for him to do when at home. His father still lived and presided over their pack with an iron hand. Though James mostly disagreed with the way his father ruled, it was just easier to stay out of his way, and pursue his own plans.
Plans that may well be coming to fruition sooner than he’d thought because lately the old man had been on him to find a mate. His father wanted him to settle down, start showing an interest in learning how to rule and the politics that had kept their pack amongst the most powerful.
James leaned back in the most prestigious booth in the hottest club in Scarborough. It wasn’t London, but it was a lot closer to home and kept his father from going off the deep end about his irresponsibility. James shook his head. If his father only knew some of the responsibi
lities he had already shouldered, he would have already had a fit and totally disapproved.
His family had ruled at Ravenscar and the surrounding area for hundreds of years. They were a strong, powerful, wealthy pack but held to the old ways. The alphas of his family had sat on the Ruling Council since its inception and had often held a seat on the Executive Council, which held power over the individual Councils spread throughout the world.
James had no interest in his father’s ideas of what the next alpha of Ravenscar should be doing and certainly none in finding a mate. At this point in time it was the last thing he needed and would greatly interfere with the real reason he had agreed to the trip his father had insisted he make the next day. Time spent away from Ravenscar had taught him that those of his kind needed to grow and adapt to the ever-changing world around them. He smiled as that thought went through his mind.
It wasn’t as if his father was a good example as far as mates were concerned. He’d never shown a preference for his own mate other than breeding her enough times to produce James. Theirs had been an arranged match and they had not been well suited. His mother had died when James was young. His father had forbidden him to grieve her passing or ever mention her name.
Tonight, he didn’t want to think about any of that. Tomorrow he would leave for Montreal where his father had secured him an invitation to attend an auction for a mate. James had agreed to go because it suited his own purpose. He’d heard the rumors about women being kidnapped, forcibly turned or mated to wolves not of their choice. His father had assured him that this was a gross exaggeration perpetuated by the more progressive women of their kind and the weak alphas that indulged them. He had laughed and reminded his son that women—both wolf and human—had been selected by men for thousands of years and these matings were usually the result of business, politics, or both.
His father thought little of the women of their species except as breeding material useful for a few things: obeying their mates, seeing to their mates’ sexual needs, and raising the children born from their union. In the same way he selected studs and dams for the various livestock the pack bred, so his father selected the females to be mated to the male members of his pack. Bonding outside of his father’s wishes was forbidden and would most often result in being expelled from the pack. It hadn’t escaped James’ notice that apparently his father now planned to breed him to the she-wolf he thought would produce the best next generation.
