by Susan Laine
“Get him out,” a commanding voice called from outside.
The touch burned Gabriel’s skin as his mate grabbed his bare arm below the rolled-up sleeve. Together with the other mercenary, Gabe’s mate lifted him up enough so he could move a bit even with the ankle restraints. With a combination of hopping and sliding, Gabe was brought to the edge of the truck, and he could feel the open air beneath his toes as he stood there. The two mercenaries took a hold under his arms and lowered him to the ground carefully. As his mate’s hands left him, Gabe thought he felt the man’s fingers brush against his nape in a gentle, reassuring manner.
Unsure whether he should dismiss the gesture that, for all he knew, could have been mere wishful thinking on his part, Gabe made a conscious choice not to respond to it in any way. Even if the act had been intentional, if these men knew that one of their own guys was Gabe’s mate, the man undoubtedly would become a threat requiring elimination. The thought of causing his mate’s death made Gabe’s stomach twist in painful knots.
“He’s magnificent,” a woman spoke nearby, her tone filled with awe. Gabe followed the sound and saw a young, blonde, fair-skinned woman, likely in her midtwenties, with soft girlish features and a practically smitten look on her face, her full lips rounded in an amazed O like an odd kissy-face. Then for a moment, she looked puzzled. “He looks surprisingly… tame. Is he still drugged?”
One of the men, who, judging by his distinct air of authority, was the leader of these mercenaries, shook his head. “Nah. The tranqs have worn off by now. He’s just… housebroken, I guess.” Though his crooked smile was more wry than amused, the other men—twelve of them all in all—laughed, indicating the man was definitely the top dog of the unit.
The woman shrugged as if indifferent. “Well, he will do nicely anyway. Father will be so proud of him—and me.” Gabe watched and listened intently. Was there a hint of a southern accent in the woman’s voice? Her floral scent came from an expensive perfume, indicating class and wealth, and the way she spoke suggested she was the one in charge—but only because she was one of those people who expected everyone to serve her. “Take him to the cage.”
That did not bode well, Gabe thought, but he had little choice but to comply. Needing to stay conscious to get a better sense of his surroundings, he made no effort to run or fight, and the mercenaries seemed to sense this. They may not have taken any chances with him, but they weren’t hurting him either. The woman—and her mysterious father—were obviously footing the bill for this little involuntary get-together, and they didn’t want the merchandise damaged. Of all the things that had happened to Gabe today, that was the second best. The first had been finding his mate, though that was unlikely to help him.
He was quickly blindfolded again—and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why the cover had been removed at all, except for the check-up by the lady in charge—and led down a path past the long black Bentley the woman had been standing next to. The gravel crunched beneath his bare feet, and the smell of a freshly cut lawn hung heavy in the hot, humid air. The sun was high, suggesting noon or thereabouts. Scents of cypress, dogwood, magnolia, and oak trees, along with exotic flowers, filled his nostrils. The place was definitely well maintained and high-end. Then again, poor people could not have afforded this special treatment Gabe was being given. The walk didn’t last long, and then he was taken into a house, the air dry, cool, and perfumed, again giving a definite impression of wealth and class. A heavy metal door opened with an ominous, deep clank, and he was escorted down a flight of steep metal stairs until they came to a halt on the floor. The sound of a cell door being unlocked and swung open confirmed his fears, but this was the wrong time to act, so as docilely as he could, he let the men push him in, still restrained, and close the cell door before they departed.
“I’ll take first watch,” Gabe heard his mate say, chuckling. “There’s a game on later, and I won’t miss it on account of you losers.” Laughter and receding footsteps followed the friendly statement, and next the bang of a metal door closing—and then there was only silence.
“REMOVE the blindfold.” The woman’s order was swiftly followed by Gabe’s mate’s scent closing in on him, and then the black cotton cloth was yanked off of him. Blinking in the cold, harsh light of the prison cell—from the looks of it underground, perhaps in a bunker—Gabe made a quick assessment of the situation and his surroundings.
Only three people in the room: the woman, Gabriel, and his mate. Gabe was the only one behind bars, though, and still bound by shackles.
“Look at you,” the woman cooed appreciatively as she walked closer to the bars, her blue eyes like crystal-clear mountain water, open wide like those of a startled child. “So beautiful.”
Her purring voice gave Gabe a hint of why he was here, and inwardly he shuddered at the thought. Yes, in his lifetime he had slept with both men and women, but the latter had never sat well with him. With women he had never been able to let go, and he had felt empty emotionally. He just connected more with men.
And at the moment, his mate stood on the other side of the bars, not realizing the truth of it. That was a depressing thought Gabe quickly dismissed for fear of exposure.
The woman’s slender fingers caressed the bars in a suggestive manner while she bit her pouting lower lip and batted her long eyelashes. “You may not be aware of this, Gabriel, but you and I have met before.” Gabe frowned. She didn’t seem familiar. “Of course, at the time I was just a little girl. I still had pigtails, then, and I wore a petite pink dress with cute tiny shoes with red ribbons on them.” Her giggles might have sounded endearing to someone without a brain, but Gabe felt only chills down his spine, though he showed none of it.
Pacing back and forth by the bars, she was clearly getting anxious about Gabe’s mutinous silence, and this time her lip biting wasn’t the least bit seductive. “Don’t be so despondent, Gabriel. I’m not going to hurt you.” She stopped, put both hands on the bars, and gave him what was obviously her most charming expression. “I’ve adored you from afar for years. I told my father I wanted you, or no one. And here you are.”
Her glee made Gabe’s blood run cold. Dammit, another wolfie. Most of the beings from the formerly Unseen World had accumulated fans and followers since the Great Unveiling, and his kind, the lycan breed, were no different. The King family had had run-ins with werewolf groupies before, usually with violent results. Gabe would be damned if he allowed this woman to get her way with him.
“Oh goodness, where are my manners?” she suddenly exclaimed, giggling and tossing her long tresses around in a gesture Gabe assumed was meant to be alluring, but missed its mark by miles. “My name is Victoria Adler, and my father is William Adler, a devout supporter for mythos rights. You met him when he bought a pony for me when I was just a little girl, remember?”
Gabe could not in good conscience say he did because he didn’t. The Howling Creek Ranch was renowned, but honestly, too many kids got their first horses from the ranch for Gabe to recall a specific child, let alone a parent. This probably had something to do with the fact that he raised bulls and cattle with his brother Uri, while his younger brothers Michael and Rafe handled the horses and their training.
“I knew from the moment I saw you that you’d be my mate.” Her tone spoke of pink dreams and girlish desires that had nothing to do with reality, and her blue eyes didn’t seem to see him as much as her gaze was directed inward to a fantasy of a man.
“But I am not your mate. And I never will be.”
IT WAS the first time Kieran heard Gabriel King, their captive cowboy werewolf, speak, and he fell in love instantly. That deep, rumbling voice washed over Kieran’s senses, like a velvety caress, and he had nothing to compare this strange new feeling with. He had never fallen for anyone so hard and fast, let alone a guy—until now.
Refocusing on the conversation, Kieran kept his expression blank, though he had to dig his fingernails into his palms to do so.
“Don
’t be silly, sweetheart. Of course you are mine.” Giggling, she shook her head as if truly baffled by Gabriel’s response. “You’re here, aren’t you? Oh, stop goofing around, Gabriel, my pet. We will be so happy together. You’ll see.” Letting out a long, enchanted sigh, she inspected the prisoner from head to toe, admiringly.
Now Kieran was worried. This woman who paid them to do a job, Victoria Adler, was clearly a few cards short of a full deck. It was hardly unexpected for a person who was after mythical beings, but still….
Then again, Kieran was in the dark when it came to mating anyway. All he knew was wolves mated for life, and apparently so did werewolves. And they were immortal, so that was one hell of a commitment. But how did mating work then? Was Gabriel being honest when he said she would never be his mate?
Suddenly Gabriel spoke again, startling Kieran out of his confused thoughts. “How do you feel, Victoria? Do you feel flushed and hot? Is your skin tingling? Are you out of breath? Does your heart beat itself right out of your chest? Do you want nothing more than to tear open that cell door, run in and tear my jeans off so you can take my cock down your throat and then so deep inside your pussy you’d think we were born one person?”
It was Kieran who was so hot and bothered that he barely knew which way was up and which down. Every one of Gabriel’s descriptions seemed written with him in mind, and he felt all those things, the sensations pooling in his groin like a boiling lake of molten lava. He couldn’t take his eyes off the prisoner, who didn’t look at him but whose attention for some reason echoed through every fiber of Kieran’s being.
Holy. Shit. Gabriel King is my mate.
While Kieran was busy trying to come to terms with the fact that his whole life had just turned upside down in the span of a heartbeat, Victoria didn’t seem to know what to say, and she kept opening and closing her mouth like a fish on dry land. “Do not speak to me in that lewd manner, mister. I am a lady.”
Gabriel shrugged. “Lady or not, you still understood my meaning.”
Victoria’s fair cheeks blossomed a rosy pink as she blushed vehemently. “I see that this is the wrong time and place to get through to you. After a few days in here all by your lonesome, I am confident you will see things from my point of view.” All of a sudden, she let out a happy cry of girlish glee and clapped her hands in excitement, practically bouncing on the soles of her high-heel-clad feet. “Oh, you will love being with me! I have so many wonderful things planned for us. I thought about honeymooning in Paris. France, of course, not Texas. Or maybe in Firenze. Oh, Venice is absolutely gorgeous this time of year.”
As Victoria rambled, lost in an inner world, Kieran had a bad feeling, and it pressed tight in his chest. Accustomed to working for greedy, selfish people who desired some kind of edge over mythical beings, Kieran found Victoria Adler’s obsessive madness much more worrisome. The unit leader, Deck, had not mentioned any specifics about their client (he rarely divulged that kind of superfluous information), but surely he must have noticed that this woman was missing a few marbles.
Unless… maybe this woman was not their client, but just a representative. Yet she spoke in a possessive manner, as though she were the one signing their paychecks, so to speak. Not usually uncomfortable being kept in the dark, this time Kieran was painfully aware of all that he had given up by surrendering to Deck’s authority without question. How many Gabriel Kings had he sent to people just like Victoria Adler without question and without so much as a thought of what he had done?
Kieran shuddered, and he couldn’t look at Victoria anymore, so he sought out anything else to distract himself from a wave of remorseful nausea. It was in this moment of utter weakness, when his defenses were down, that his gaze found the darkened flames of Gabriel’s chocolate-brown eyes as the man stared at him from the other end of the room—behind bars, not backing down, and showing no sign of recognition or warmth. If this man was Kieran’s mate, he was certainly playing it cool, Kieran thought glumly.
Then it hit him.
Gabriel is trying to protect me. He doesn’t know me as anything other than an enemy who abducted him and took his freedom—and yet he’s protecting me.
Kieran wished for the ground to open up and devour him right then and there as the full weight of his shame landed on his shoulders.
Shaking himself out of his reverie, he fought for calm. What was his next play?
Victoria sighed, and buried in her voice was fatigue. With all that bouncy energy, she must have depleted her resources, and she waved a hand through the air in an elegant but languid gesture. “I’ll make sure you’re fed the finest courses, Gabriel. You will not want to leave me ever.” Throwing her plentiful head of hair about, she gave a shining bright smile and left.
It wasn’t until the reinforced steel door closed that Kieran realized even now he and Gabriel were not alone. Cameras with microphones would record their interactions and their every move. He prayed silently that Gabriel would not try to speak to him yet. For a moment, unable to distinguish between relief and frustration, Kieran watched as Gabriel’s gaze dropped to the floor and stayed there, his whole position seemingly at ease—even in chains.
Moving cautiously, he stared at Gabriel, who didn’t react in any way. Kieran turned to face the camera in the corner on the outside of the cell and used military hand gestures to indicate he was leaving his post and coming up to the control room. Without waiting to hear a reply through his earcom, he went up the stairs and left the room, closing the door behind him.
The guard change would be in two hours, now less than that. Victoria’s talk with Gabriel had eaten up precious seconds that Kieran did not have. Deck led a group of twelve men, himself and Kieran included, and the Adler mansion undoubtedly had its own security forces. At the moment, though, Kieran’s main concern was his own men—who he was about to betray.
HIS mate had disappeared up the stairs five minutes ago, and Gabe had little doubt that his message about the physical responses of the mating process had fallen on deaf ears. As he discarded the possibility his mate could help him escape, Gabe was forced to conclude that he had only his own wits to fall back on since he had been left to his own devices.
Despite her apparent lunacy, Victoria was Gabe’s best bet. She was in love with her own image of a man, but perhaps with a little persuasion and charm he could convince her to—
The door opened with a metallic clank, and two pairs of feet descended. Keeping his eyes aimed at the floor, Gabe wondered if it was chow time or if they had come to mock him or even hurt him.
“See? The lock looks defective. Thank God the puppy’s still in chains, or we’d be in some serious shit.”
Barely containing his confused frown, Gabe listened to his mate’s low cadence and his words, which made no sense. But he didn’t get the chance to ponder too long because as soon as the other man stepped closer to the lock to inspect it, Gabe’s mate grabbed him from behind, one arm wound tight across the man’s chest while his other hand was busy injecting something into the man’s neck. After groaning and flailing about for a few breaths, the man slumped, his eyes closed, and he went down.
“Quickly,” Gabe’s mate ordered with a low hiss. He twisted the cell door keys off the man’s belt, unlocked the door, and dashed close to Gabe to unlock his restraints with a fast snap of his wrists. “My name’s Kieran, and I don’t have time to explain. Take that man’s clothes and put them on. Fucking hurry! It won’t take the rest of the unit long to discover the control room empty and the cameras turned off.”
Practical as always, Gabe resisted the urge to pull his mate near. Every whiff of him was like an aphrodisiac, calling out to him. But he also didn’t fail to notice that Kieran veered off and intentionally avoided touching him. I guess he did notice his instinct to mate after all.
Gabe walked closer to the unconscious guard and disrobed him. Without a word he shucked off his jeans and plaid shirt and put on the pitch-black uniform. The pants were too tight and too short, and the b
utton-down shirt looked about ready to burst at the seams. The small boots would not fit him, though, not even when he used a knife to cut open the tip of the shoes so that his toes could stick out. They were simply too cramped and uncomfortable, and he had to forgo them, praying no one would notice an absence of shoes.
“Ready?” Kieran spoke to him, and for the first time Gabe had the chance to actually look at his mate. There were gray slivers of steel within those blue eyes, and his hard-lined face had more than a few old white scars. Gabe wondered if the man ever smiled. The absence of laugh lines around his mouth and eyes suggested he never did. “Take his ball cap. Hide your face as much as you can.” Gabe put on the black baseball cap, and added to the disguise with the sunglasses from the guard’s chest pocket. “Take his gun.” Gabe complied without argument. He did not like guns in any way, shape, or form, but he was fluent in their use. “That is a semi-automatic, and you load it—”
Before Kieran could finish, Gabe had already taken a clip, inserted it into the gun, and made sure the safety was on before sliding the gun into the hip holster and strapping it on. He noted the mix of prideful awe and disconcerted suspicion in Kieran’s eyes as he took stock of what Gabe had just done. Then Kieran shook his head, as if to clear it from wayward thoughts, and went up the stairs to the door. Glancing over his shoulder, he said gruffly, “If we come across anyone, let me do the talking. Our destination is the side entrance. There’ll be vehicles there. You understand?”
Gabe nodded in response. No point in wasting time with small talk.
The outside corridor was empty, but there was a breeze, suggesting a doorway nearby. Gabe remembered they hadn’t walked far inside before he’d been led down the stairs to his underground prison. Painted light yellow, the walls around them closed in narrowly and indicated they were in the back of the mansion, far from the wide-open spaces reserved for guests.
