by Vivian Wood
Walker took a deep breath, then approached the viewing window. He noticed that every single guard was now laser focused on his every movement, but he shrugged it off. Several of the customers were eyeing him, too; a deeply tanned, older Asian gentleman, a thin, sickly-looking white woman in her fifties, and a ruggedly tan, casually dressed man in his forties. If Walker had to guess, he would label them as Thai shipping magnate, a spook from an unknown US or British governmental agency, and a Australian billionaire big-game hunter. Each was flanked by a younger assistant or bodyguard, and each very curious about Walker. Each reprehensible in his or her own distinctly horrifying way.
Shutting out the prickling consciousness of internal alarm bells going off in his head and the openly assessing stares of guards and customers, Walker stepped right up to the viewing window. The humans milling around drew away from him, giving him one more hint that something was wrong. Usually humans had no idea they were rubbing shoulders with a shifter, unless Walker chose to reveal it.
Squaring his shoulders, he raised his gaze to the viewing window. Shock ran through his system, despite his mental preparations.
She was exquisite.
Stretched out over an expanse of black velvet, the female looked impossibly small and fragile. She was diminutive, perhaps only five feet tall. She had blonde, straight hair that fell past her shoulders and smooth, lightly tanned skin. She wore a slinky crystal garment that barely covered her voluptuous breasts and generous hips, leaving her stomach and shoulders bare. Walker stepped forward, dragged toward her more surely than a magnet.
He kept his hands at his side, actively worked to keep from balling them into fists. Stepping to the left, he examined her face. Heart-shaped, with soft blonde brows and a sweetly shaped mouth. Her chin had the tiniest cleft, and her cheeks hinted at a dimpled grin. He wanted badly to see the color of her eyes, but she appeared sleepy, perhaps drugged.
When his groin tightened at the sight of her, Walker felt acute shame. A foreign emotion, to be certain. Shame was useless to men used to the ‘no fucks given’ lifestyle that Walker preferred.
Exhaling the breath he’d unknowingly held, Walker turned to one of the guards.
“Take me into the office,” he ordered, pointing at the door he’d seen earlier.
The guard’s gaze slipped over to Clipboard, who now stood only a few feet behind Walker. Dismissing the other guard, Walker turned to Clipboard.
“They want to see me anyway,” he said, waving a hand. It was not a question.
Clipboard paused, then nodded and beckoned Walker toward the office. The door opened as he approached, and a white-haired man in a suit stepped out.
“Mr. Walker, I’m guessing,” the man said. “Welcome to our facility.”
The man was short, probably only 5’6”, and wearing a very fine dove-grey suit. With his frosty white beard, thick white hair, and thick Southern accent, Walker couldn’t help but associate him with fried chicken. Still, there was an air about him, a ruthless glint in his eye, that made Walker cautious not to underestimate the man. The man put out a hand for a handshake, but Walker completely ignored it. The man’s grin widened at Walker’s refusal.
“And you are?” Walker asked, stepping closer to impress the height difference. Walker towered over the man by at least a foot. When the guards stepped closer, the man raised a hand to ward them off.
“You may call me Mr. Smith. We don’t much go for full names around here, of course,” he said with a chuckle.
Walker cocked his head, remaining silent. Mentally, he was tracking the movements of everyone in the room. Tension thickened the air, and Walker was preparing for a serious fight. After long seconds of silence, aware that he didn’t have Walker’s full attention, Mr. Smith spoke again.
“You wanted to see me, Mr. Black?” he asked. His cheerful tone was a smooth, flawless façade.
Walker refocused, keeping his expression completely neutral.
“How much?” Walker asked, willing himself to stillness. He had a number of poker ‘tells’, all of which he needed to control. He wanted to be blank, unemotional, unfathomable. He wanted to make everyone sweat.
The guards looked nervous as hell, but Mr. Smith didn’t even blink.
“We haven’t determined that number yet, have we? That’s what the auction is for, my boy,” he said, the same bland smile pasted on his face.
“I don’t want an auction. Just give me a number. A million?” he asked, allowing his impatience to show.
Mr. Smith chuckled, shaking his head.
“The bidding starts at one million, five hundred thousand,” he said, clucking his tongue.
“Two million, then. Get her out of the cage,” Walker replied, waving a lazy hand at the female.
“We don’t do business like that, Mr. Black.”
“Fine. Twenty million,” Walker said, giving the man a look of pure annoyance.
The room went quiet, and even Mr. Smith paused for a few seconds.
“Ah. Tempting, very tempting. But everyone must have an equal chance, of course. We’ll be seated now, and await the arrival of our last guest,” Mr. Smith said, turning and motioning everyone toward the auction area.
Walker threw a look over his shoulder, noticing that the female was now sitting up, hands pressed against the glass wall. Their gazes caught, and her eyes were a bright green shock of utter desperation. She pawed the glass once, a very wolflike response. Walker felt his wolf stir, the impulse to free her riding him hard. He glanced around, then looked back at her and held up a hand, gesturing that she should stay put.
Wait for me, he mouthed.
Tears formed in her eyes, and her mouth wobbled, but she nodded.
Turning away and walking to take a seat in the auction area was one of the hardest things Walker had ever done. Hell, he’d killed for a lot less than this. Still, he bided his time. He faced forward and kept his expression stony, even when he could hear the guards moving the girl out of the holding tank. One of the guards handed Walker an orange paper paddle. Each guest got a different color, it seemed.
Mr. Smith stepped onstage, flanked by two guards. Two more half-carried the female to the circular pedestal, securing her ankles to the base with finely wrought silver chains. The guards let her slide down to her knees, then stepped away. She faltered once, nearly toppling over. Walker had to wonder if she was really so deeply drugged, or if some of it was an act.
Three men approached, each wearing heavy black robes. Their faces were hidden by thick hoods, sunken in shadows. Each wore a simple golden cross around his neck, and their light shoes, pale skin, and soft hands said that they were not outdoorsmen. Walker would have guessed that they were some kind of Fae, but they smelled human. He couldn’t catch the slightest whiff of any magic on them, actually. Perhaps they were some kind of priests or monks.
“Ah! Our final guests,” Mr. Smith crowed. “I knew this would be of special interest for you, gentlemen.”
The three figures remained standing, and no one took exception. Where all the other customers had stared at Walker with a mixture of fear and insatiable curiosity, no one dared to examine the monks. Whoever the guys were, they were no idle threat. One of the guards offered the foremost monk a paddle, only to be rebuked with a silence. He backed away, nearly cowering.
“Welcome, everyone. We have, tonight, something very special. Ella here is a lot more than she seems. Sweet, innocent, sexy… and that’s just her human half. She’s only twenty-four, and shifters live very long lives. They heal from almost any wound, instantly. You could get a lot of use out of little Ella, gentlemen,” Smith announced, his voice excited. He grinned at the crowd, eyes twinkling.
“Let us start the bidding as planned, everyone,” Mr. Smith crooned. “One million and five, please.”
Paddles flashed, and Smith called out numbers.
“Two. Two-five. Three. Three-five. Four. Five,” he said, pointing to each bid.
Walker waited. The bids slowed at fifteen m
illion, and Mr. Smith waved to the guards close to the female. One stepped forward, grabbing her by the hair. He pulled the hair back from her soft face and yanked hard, forcing her breasts to jut forward. The crystals of her outfit glinted brightly under the bright stage lights.
“Did I mention she’s been dosed with a drug that makes her tranquil and insatiably horny? The serum comes as part of the package. Get her wet any time you please! Or don’t, if you’re into that sort of thing,” Smith howled, growing fevered.
Paddles flashed. Bids flew, and each time the slowed the guard flaunted the girl a little more. The guard spread her thighs apart, nearly baring all due to her skimpy costume. Walker suppressed a groan, because Smith wasn’t lying about the serum. As disoriented as Ella was, she was also turned on. He could actually smell her arousal from thirty feet away, and it was killing him.
“Fifty!” Walker shouted, garnering nasty looks from the other bidders. Silence fell for long moments, and Smith had a very conflicted look on his face. They’d been planning to capture Walker and sell him, no doubt. Fifty million might be too much to walk away from, though.
One of the monks raised a hand, and Smith looked as if he might explode with pleasure.
“Fifty five!” the man cried.
“Sixty,” Walker rejoined.
Another hand wave from the monk.
“Seventy!” Walker said, growling now.
Smith completely ignored Walker’s bid, turning to the monks.
“One hundred, even?” Smith asked.
Walker stood, rage flowing in his veins. The bastard was going to get every penny he wanted, and try to take Walker to boot. Greedy piece of shit.
A nod from one of the monks, and Smith howled with glee.
“Sold!” he cried, applauding wildly. “Sold to the Legion!”
The Legion…
Walker didn’t have time to think about Smith’s announcement. All the bidders stood, and the guards all edged closer to form a loose net around Walker’s spot. He saw silver in the hands of at least two guards. Tranquilizer guns, probably.
Ella’s head snapped up, and she noticed the guards moving toward Walker.
“No!” she screeched, struggling to stand. One of the guards pushed her back down, motioning to the monks to come claim their prize.
“Look out!” she cried, her voice muffled when one of the guards pushed her head down as he unchained her.
Walker was less concerned about the guards and their tranqs than about his ability to simultaneously fight the guards and keep the monks from disappearing with Ella. He also knew that some of the guards carried real guns, and he needed Ella out of the line of fire before he could act.
Walker shifted, snarling, and bolted for the front doors. He took down the two guards at the doors with minimal effort, and then ramped up his speed and shot into the woods. Oblivious to the shouts, wincing at the sounds of gunfire, he ran straight for half a mile before beginning a painstakingly wide loop back around. He needed better odds than forty against one, and the best way to do that was to end the auction. He just prayed that he could sneak back up to the parking lot before the monks took off with Ella.
When he reached the warehouse again, he shifted and grabbed two of his stashed weapons bags. He edged right up to the front of the warehouse, hidden only by a tight cluster of trees at the parking lot’s edge.
“-took one look at your sorry ass, and ran for the hills. Even that dumb wolf knew when he was beat,” one of the guards was drawling.
Ella was lying down in a slim metal cage, resting in the bed of a black pickup truck. Her hands and feet were pinned at opposite ends of the cage. The shimmery dress had vanished, an oversized black t-shirt now covering her slender frame and exposing her to the guards’ thirsty gazes.
“You thought loverboy was gonna rescue you, didn’t ya? Ya dumb bitch,” another guard said. “Bitch. Hah, get it? Cause she’s actually a bitch?”
“Shut up, dumbass,” the other one snapped. Reaching a hand in the cage, he pressed his hand to Ella’s toned thigh.
When she snarled, the guard grinned ear to ear.
“What are you gonna do, baby? Bite me? Maybe you’d like that, huh?” he taunted.
His hand crept up her leg, and Walker’s vision went entirely red for a moment. Stifling the rage and adrenaline pulsing through his body, he chucked a flash grenade into the clearing, making sure it landed far away from Ella.
Closing his eyes, Walker put his fingers in his ears and closed his eyes. Half a minute later, the clearing exploded with confusion and fear. Walker slung one of the bags around his shoulders, pulling out his first automatic weapon and another grenade. He grinned, eyeing his targets.
Using the flash grenades to drive the guards where he wanted them, he mowed them down with bullets. It was easy, on a level that made him a little sick. Humans were just too damned easy to kill, really.
Once he’d taken down everyone outside and a wave of guards stupid enough to come running out the front door, Walker went to Ella. He swung the cage door open, easily grabbing and breaking the chains that held her. His adrenaline was pumping so hard, he probably could have shredded the walls of the warehouse without batting an eyelash.
“Stay,” he cautioned Ella, pressing his hand down in a simple gesture. “I am going to take you someplace safe, I promise. I think you understand that I have to destroy this place, though.”
Walker scanned her face, anxious for her agreement. When she swallowed and nodded, he gave her a nod of thanks. Turning, he grabbed his second bag and produced a grenade launcher.
“Fucking A, Ben!” Walker cheered, loading the launcher. Moving away from Ella, Walker fired round after round into the building. Smoke rose, and after a minute five figures staggered from the warehouse. The three monks, Smith, and Clipboard.
Walker shot Ella a glance as he went for the humans.
“Don’t look,” he warned, unused to the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. For some reason, he really didn’t want Ella seeing him kill these men. No matter that they’d hurt her, no matter that they deserved much worse than he could give them right now.
Torn, he simply caught them one by one and snapped their necks, letting them remain where they fell. It was the work of mere minutes to kill them all.
The warehouse’s roof collapsed as Walker dropped the last body, and he sighed. Normally he’d go inside first, and then comb the woods for survivors. No one walked away from something like this, not if he could help it.
He’d already let the buyers go, though. Yes, he’d memorized their faces and planned to track them down at a later date, but still… Walker liked certainty, and here he was with a bucket full of question marks.
He glanced at Ella, saw how she hugged herself and shivered, and somehow he just walked away from the men, the warehouse, all of it. He walked right up to her, scooped her up, and brought her to the passenger side of his now-tattered rental car. One of the back tires was gone, and the whole sedan was riddled with bullet holes and shattered glass. Clearing the seat of debris, Walker tucked her inside before closing the door. Coming around, he slid behind the wheel and turned the keys. Mercifully, the car started right away.
“You okay?” he asked, looking over at Ella as he pulled out of the parking lot.
She shook her head slowly, lower lip trembling, but otherwise didn’t respond. No tears, no wailing. Ella was not your average female, obviously. She was made of tougher stuff, and it gave Walker a strange feeling. Pride?
No time to examine emotions, Walker floored the sedan. They reached the chopper in ten minutes, abandoning the car without a backward glance.
Walker thumped the pilot’s window, and the pilot gave him a thumbs up. If the man was curious about the faraway explosions, he didn’t say anything.
Jumping up into the passenger bay, Walker reached down for Ella. She stood below, wincing when the pilot started the engine.
Big green eyes gazed up at the chopper’s blades, fearful.
Her eyes darted to the pilot, then to Walker, and then back up to the blades.
Walker cursed. Of all the times for brave little Ella to find fear, now was not ideal.
“Ella,” he shouted, crouching down to her. Taking her hands, he met her gaze.
“You’re afraid of the helicopter?” he asked.
She gave him a strange look, then shrugged a thin shoulder.
“I’m going to make you a promise,” Walker said, squeezing her hands. “You will be more safe in this helicopter than you have been since you were kidnapped. You know that, because you’re smart. I can tell.”
Those bright emerald eyes pierced him, fixed him in place. She was curious about him, at least.
“If you are scared, you can sit with me. I won’t try anything. I won’t do anything more than hold you. That’s my promise,” he said, tugging at her hands.
Ella gazed at him, searching his face for long moments. Finally, she softened.
“Alright,” she mouthed.
“Step up,” Walker coached, lifting her up into the passenger bay before sliding the door closed behind them. Inside, it was much quieter.
Walker saw Ella’s gaze drift back to the pilot. He reached out and grasped a plastic handle, sliding it across the space between the cockpit and the passenger bay. Closing the partition, in a sense.
“He’s only worried about flying, okay?” Walker asked. He wanted to reassure her. He wanted to calm her, hold her if she’d let him.
He wanted to know why he gave a flying fuck, as well.
Sitting down, he drew Ella to the padded passenger bench. They both fastened their seat belts, sighing.
The chopper lifted off with a jolt, and Ella’s tiny hand flew into Walker’s big one.
Walker tried not to grin as they rose, sinking back into the seat.
Just like that, Ella was free.
Two
Ella looked around the helicopter’s tight quarters, biting her lip. This cramped space was really, majorly bad news. She sucked in a deep breath, but all she managed to do was drag her hero’s thick, masculine scent more fully into her lungs.
