by RJ Blain
“The lady has spoken. Before we take you both home to Seattle, there shall be shopping, and a great deal of it.”
“Don’t I get a say in this?” my mate demanded.
“It’s in the women’s handbook. Shopping is a legitimate form of therapy,” Wendy stated, sniffling.
“If she gets to dress me up, I get to dress her up.”
“That is a fair compromise. You will dress each other up, and I will use Charles’s credit card to buy everything. It’s a deal.”
“You really killed him?” my mate asked, curling some of my hair around his finger. “Was he the one who dyed your hair?”
I nodded. How would he react when he found out he was also the man who had killed his Mary? Swallowing, I bit my lip.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, giving my hair a gentle tug. “I’m proud of you. Why are you so worried? I’m not mad at you, Sara. All I care about is that you’re safe.”
“You were afraid of losing me like you lost Mary,” I whispered.
“Damned fucking straight I was afraid. I thought you were gone, and once again, I hadn’t been able to do a single fucking thing about it.”
“He’s dead. The one who killed Mary,” I whispered. “He’s dead.”
My mate sucked in a breath. “What are you talking about?”
“It was him. He wanted you; he wanted to draw you out. He was using me to get to you. He tried to rape me, and I snapped his fucking neck with my feet. I broke him like he wanted to break you.” The words bubbled out of me in a rush, leaving me shaking in their wake.
“Oh my God,” Wendy whispered.
Sanders’s hand, still tangled in my hair, rested on my shoulder, his fingers flexing. The scent of his fury stung my nose. “You’re sure it was him?”
I wrapped my arms around him. “He told me what he had done. What he wanted to do. He made me mad. You’re mine.”
Someone knocked at the door. Wendy got up and answered it. The scent of meat teased my nose. Hunger pains cramped my stomach, and I restlessly shifted. My mate untangled his hand from my hair, worked his hands under me, and sat me upright.
Instead of letting me go like I expected, he moved me so I straddled his lap, and with a heavy sigh, he pressed his face to my shoulder and held me close. He shook, his hands clutching at my back. The sting of the silver burns drew a hiss out of me. As he had for me, I reached up and ran my fingers through his hair.
I hoped my touch soothed him as much as his soothed me.
I waited until Wendy closed the door before growling, “Mine.”
“Do I need to call Charles, Sanders?” Wendy asked.
My mate shook his head. “I’m okay. Just surprised.”
“And angry,” she stated.
“Infuriated,” he admitted in a snarl. “I want to rip him to pieces for what he did.” My stomach gurgled, and with a weak laugh, my mate nuzzled my neck. “I’ll fantasize about murdering him later.”
I matched his snarl and bit his shoulder. “Don’t you even dare. The only one you’re allowed to fantasize about is me.”
“Wrong type of fantasy, Sara,” my mate murmured, and while it was small, he did smile.
“Your lady has spoken, Sanders. Come eat, Sara. Charles will get mad at me if I let you devour your mate.”
Chapter Twelve
I spent a great deal of time sleeping. At some point, Sanders brought me back into the pack, but the memory of it was hazy. I was aware of one thing, however; instead of a joyful reunion, the smothering sense of dismay wrapped around me, and it only eased when my mate was close to me.
I woke alone; stomach-cramping dread enveloped me, warning me my mate was away. Something was amiss, but I couldn’t tell what. I fidgeted with nervous energy, tossing and turning in my effort to return to the peace of sleep.
I gave up, and with a groan, I cracked open an eye. Muttering curses at the need to face the world, I got out of bed.
The room was dark, as was the hallway beyond. A peek out the curtain revealed it was early morning. When I sniffed the air, my mate’s scent lingered, although my wolf believed he hadn’t been around recently. Bothered by the quiet and the darkness, I slinked out of bed and crept to the door.
Silence.
No one was in the bathroom or the sitting room. The other bedroom was also empty, as were the office and foyer. For the first time since I’d been snatched on the way home from class, there was no one around to bother me, to hover, or to worry. While I still ached for my mate, it was a tolerable discomfort.
I flicked on the bathroom light and was startled by my reflection in the room’s many mirrors. The red in my hair, as promised, was gone. Judging from the smell, it had been bleached, leaving it an odd orange-pink color. I had no memory of bleaching it.
At least it wasn’t red.
Tucked in a corner was a bag full of hair dye products. Giggling at the variety of blondes and blues, I selected the palest blonde and the brightest of the blues. Desmond either knew his way around hair dyes or he had asked, because there was aluminum foil in the bag, several brushes suitable for applying dye, and a package of plastic bowls. He had even bought doubles of everything in case I needed it. With my hair falling halfway down my back, I needed the extra boxes.
Folded across the edge of the bathtub was a dye-stained beach towel, victim of their efforts to restore my hair to normality. Stripping out of my pajamas, I tossed them into the hallway to spare them, wrapped up in the towel, and went to work. My wolf’s interest in what I was doing grew until I opened the box containing the blonde dye. She got one whiff of it and retreated until I could barely detect her presence.
“Wuss,” I muttered.
In addition to a huge mirror, the bathroom had a television. While I had a small one at my apartment, I couldn’t afford cable. I had an internet connection only because I couldn’t do my schoolwork without it. My work schedule had been so intense most of my research happened online.
Taking the time to go to the college library wasn’t an option.
Once I finished brushing dye into my hair, I prowled the suite, turning on all of the lights as I went. On the coffee table, I found two envelopes, both of which had my name on them. Scowling, I grabbed them.
One contained cash, and a lot of it. In the other was a phone number, an address, and a key card for the hotel room. The purse Desmond and Wendy had purchased with the dress was on the couch. Sitting down, I grabbed it and went through it. I found more cash inside along with a bank card, which had a sticky note with the pin number. My keys were inside, but the blue wallet was new. My ID and bank card were tucked inside.
At the bottom of the bag was a slim cell phone. Puzzled, I picked it up. While most girls had cells, they were a luxury I couldn’t afford. The phone I had was a cheap corded phone from a dollar store, although I had splurged on an answering machine so I wouldn’t miss any calls from work.
I took my time rinsing my hair out, relaxing in the warm water. My arms and shoulders ached, but the heat worked out most of the stiffness by the time I got the excess dye out. Long after the water ran clear, I stood in the spray, staring at the wall without really seeing it.
Kent had dyed my hair in the basement shower, pawing at me while I was cuffed and unable to fight him. I flexed my hands at the memory, growling at how close I’d come to being forced to mate with him.
I understood Brandy and why she hadn’t killed me right away; breaking Kent’s sorcerous neck didn’t satisfy me. Maybe he was dead, but death was an easy, fast way out for what he had done to me and Sanders, Mary, and his other victims.
I wanted to end Brandy’s life for helping Kent, for watching, laughing, and helping him torment the males, for using me, for waking my need for Sanders and leaving me unsatisfied, and for hurting my mate. I wanted to break Brandy in my hands, and when she stood on the brink of death, I wanted to give her to my wolf so she could kill her.
I held my breath until my lungs burned before exhaling.
I h
ad no idea what to do about the witch or how to find her. My wolf, recognizing the hunt as futile, turned her attention back to more important matters. Finding Sanders and making certain he was safe topped the list, although she paused to contemplate what I had done to my hair.
While the dye remover had stripped out the red, the blond and blue weren’t quite as bright as I wanted. Muttering curses, I toweled off and headed into the bedroom in search of clothing. Several bags waited, where I found a selection of dresses, lingerie, and heels. “What the hell? Dresses?” I sighed and changed.
My first order of business would be to buy comfortable clothes. A few pairs of jeans and some tank tops and I’d be ready to go, although I considered wearing the sundresses over some jeans. The one I picked, a blue matching my hair, had a certain charm to it. I’d also have to get a new purse.
I had no idea how much work I had missed, but going to the club and quitting was my second order of business. When Sanders returned to Seattle, I’d follow him. Surely Seattle had an underground just like Las Vegas. I would find some way to integrate into the city and build a new life.
Once and for all, I’d lay Sara Watson to rest.
After grabbing a matching pair of heels to go with the dress, I headed into the sitting room to retrieve the pair of envelopes on the coffee table and the purse. I decided if they hadn’t meant for me to leave the room, they wouldn’t have left a key.
I opened one of the suite’s doors to discover a pair of men wearing suits standing guard. I sucked in a breath, my eyes widening as they turned to face me.
The cinnamon scent of Fenerec teased my nose.
“Good morning, Miss Madison.” The man on my right had pale hair and a thin, almost gaunt face; his voice was startlingly deep. “Will you require a car?”
I blinked and opened my mouth to reply, but I failed to make a single sound. It was like my life back in New York, where nameless guards showed up at my parents’ convenience. Swallowing, I tried again and whispered, “I’m going to the shops. I don’t need a car.”
I also didn’t need or want bodyguards, especially strange males I didn’t know. My wolf wanted me to growl and drive them away, but I kept quiet.
With the exceptions of Desmond and Sanders, my experiences with men hadn’t been pleasant. Would the males of my kind view my dancing as an all-access pass? Some human men did. I considered retreating into the room and slamming the door. Instead, I closed the door behind me, squeezed by them careful to avoid touching either one of them, and headed for the elevator.
They followed me. My wolf fidgeted under the feeling of their gazes on my back.
By the time we reached the main level of the Venetian, I shook with worry. My wolf’s anxiety spiked; determined to get some distance between me and the two males, I marched through the crowds, following the signs for the Canal Shoppes.
If they were going to stalk me around the stores, I had no intention of making it easy for them.
With the memory of my fellow captives’ lustful howls ringing in my ears, I stretched my stride, walking as fast as I could without breaking into a jog. I had been hunted enough.
Like every other hotel I had been to on the Strip, the Venetian’s stores formed a maze spanning several levels with pathways crisscrossing the canal. Cafes, stores, and restaurants with terraces offered many places to evade my unwanted shadows.
It took two circuits of the entire area and a quick slide into the casino to shake off the pair of Fenerec. Determined to secure my victory and keep them off my tail, I left the Venetian and crossed the street to Caesar’s Palace. Instead of the shopping I had intended to do, I bought a purse to match my dress, and stuffed my other bag inside of it.
So early in the day, the clubs wouldn’t be too busy. It was the perfect time to quit my job and truly put Vegas behind me once and for all.
I caught a cab and headed to the club. George was working as the front door bouncer, and I stared at him while gathering my courage.
“Sara,” he greeted.
“Tell the boss he can go fuck himself. I quit,” I announced. The words came out easier than I expected.
“Told me to show you in if you came around,” George replied.
“He’s about to get the memo I learned a new trick. The answer’s no, George.” I turned to leave, and he grabbed my wrist to stop me. Clenching my teeth, I considered putting my wolf’s strength to the test.
“He’ll ruin you.”
“I can live with that.”
“Can you?” George tugged me in the direction of the doors. “Don’t be like this, Sara. I’m sure you two can work things out.”
It took every bit of my will to resist growling. “What makes you think I want to work things out?”
“You’re worth too much to him now. He’ll ruin you in this entire city.”
“If I cared, George, that’d be a good threat. I don’t.”
“He said all he needed was five minutes to convince you.”
“Is that so? Five minutes?” I couldn’t mask the disbelief in my tone. “After what that dick did? I have somewhere to be, and it’s not here. Let me go.”
George didn’t let me go; instead, he pulled me into the club. “Five minutes, Sara. Don’t catch us all up in your fall.”
Swallowing back my growl, I huffed, “Fine. Five minutes.”
In five minutes, I would make it perfectly clear I didn’t care what happened to my reputation in Las Vegas.
The boss was in his upstairs suite overlooking the stage. I didn’t see him often, but as always, he was dressed in a black suit, white shirt, and black tie. He slid from the leather, curved bench and circled around the table he used as his desk. I stood in the doorway, tightening my grip on my bag while calculating how good of a weapon it would make.
“Since George seems to be hard of hearing today, I’ll just tell you to your face. I quit. Find some other girl to dance for you on the main shift. I’m done.” I met his pale eyes.
My wolf wanted to tear him to pieces for having us drugged and selling us, even though we had found our mate through his treachery.
“You’re making a very big mistake, Miss Madison. You could be a very rich woman. Your clients weren’t the first willing to pay so much for your time. You’re a luxury item. Once news of your availability spreads, you’ll be the most sought after lady in this city.”
“I’m not an item for sale. I quit. Go ahead and try to ruin me. I don’t mind in the slightest.”
“I’ll ruin you here and in every city with a club, Miss Madison. You’ll never dance again.”
“I’m pretty sure I don’t care, sir.”
“Why don’t you have a seat so we can discuss this like adults,” the boss replied, sitting and sliding to the middle of the curved bench. “George, please bring the lady a chair, as I assume she won’t feel comfortable getting cozy with me this morning.”
“Damn straight I don’t feel like getting cozy with you,” I muttered.
“Can I offer you a drink?”
“So you can drug me again? I pass.”
“There’s no need to be so bitter, Miss Madison. It was for your own good. You’re twenty thousand richer as a result, and all you had to do was one evening of real work. I’ve had several other offers for you, some even more lucrative for both of us. You are in high demand.”
George brought out a chair and placed it in front of the table. When I hesitated, the bouncer rested his hand on my shoulder and pushed down. I sank onto the chair. “The answer is still no. I don’t give a shit about your profits.”
“I’m afraid I’m not willing to take no for an answer, Miss Madison. I’ve been offered a substantial amount for you to escort a gentleman for an evening, and I intend to collect, without your cooperation if necessary.”
Slamming my hands against the table, I rose and leaned forward. “Not happening. Absolutely not. I’m not going to be kidnapped and raped so you can make a quick dollar.”
He narrowed his eyes, and the
re was nothing pleasant about his smile. “What makes you think you have a choice?”
I spun to leave. George blocked my path.
In one hand, he held a syringe.
“No fucking way,” I blurted. My wolf’s temper frayed and snapped. I tensed, balanced all of my weight on one heel, and stabbed my stiletto at George’s feet. He dodged my jab, and the kind, quiet George I knew vanished. Far faster than I thought his bulk would have allowed, he cracked the back of his hand across my face.
“Try not to bruise her too much,” the boss cautioned.
I was stunned for only a moment, but that was all George needed. While I didn’t feel the prick of the needle, a chill spread up my arm. When it reached my neck, my legs wobbled and gave out under me. George tossed the syringe onto the table.
I recognized the dizzying buzz of the drugs I had been given when I had been sold to the Desmonds, although the effects were far, far stronger than I remembered. My wolf’s panic lasted only a few moments before her presence faded away in the drugged haze clouding my head.
“You bastard,” I choked out.
“You have a date with a gentlemen in New York in a week. Imagine it: you, a stupid little broad who doesn’t even deserve it, getting a chance to go to one of New York’s exclusive galas. You will remain as my guest in the interim, Miss Madison. You will enjoy this lovely cocktail of medication once a day, which I’ve been told will keep you nice, docile, and obedient until it wears off. It was custom made by your new client. He was quite annoyed you had already been hired before he could enjoy you that night I sent you off with that couple. He has learned his lesson that only the highest bidder gets to take you home. At least I am generous. You will be paid a sum by your client at the conclusion of the evening depending on your performance. Do you understand?”
Tears of frustration and anger burned my eyes, and as the drugs had done before, I was forced to reply, “Yes, sir.”
“I work with whores like you all of the time, Miss Madison. No one will miss you. You’re just another stupid slut in a city full of them. Never forget it.”
