by Kali Argent
Falling face first onto the ground, she twisted and groaned, fighting against the scream building in her throat—but not before she watched the guard cartwheel down into her cell and heard his scream of pain. When the buzzing finally stopped, she remained on the ground, her face buried in the grass while she panted for breath. Her muscles continued to spasm, and even her bones felt like they were vibrating, but she refused to give her captors the satisfaction of seeing her so weak.
With an enormous amount of effort, she clenched her teeth together, grunting as she shoved herself into a sitting position, then carefully, rose to her full height on trembling legs. The taste of metal saturated her tongue again, and the scent of burnt hair—likely her own—permeated her skin. Thea didn’t know if her heart could withstand another shock like the last one, but she’d rather be killed for defiance than die begging for her life.
“Well, shit.” Another werewolf stared at the hole where his brethren had fallen with a mixture of disgust and annoyance while he fingered a small, black button that hung from a lanyard around his neck. “This was his last week of training.”
No one else approached her, maybe because they didn’t need to, not with the collar around her neck that assured her cooperation. More likely, they kept their distance because she still had the blood of their comrade drying under her fingernails. Since she hadn’t heard a sound from the guy since she’d gained her feet, she assumed he’d either bled out of broken his neck in the fall.
Somehow, she couldn’t be bothered to care either way, but clearly, he hadn’t been ready for the big leagues.
A half dozen feet from her, Cade caught her eye and nodded. His hands had been bound in the same type of metal as her collar, but his neck was curiously bare. “You good?”
“I’m good,” she answered, grateful he’d had the presences of mind not to use her name. “The others?”
The question had barely left her lips when a massive werewolf with a shorn head and gleaming golden eyes shoved Abby toward their little group with unnecessary roughness. The pixie-like female stumbled several steps before gravity finally won, dragging her to the ground where she sprawled across the grass with a quiet whimper. Cade tensed, his expression turning murderous, but he didn’t move, didn’t say anything. To an outsider, he might appear cold and uncaring, maybe even selfish, but Thea understood perfectly.
Cade didn’t make a move to defend Abby for the same reason she hadn’t. The more their guards knew about them, the worse their penalties would be. If the pack thought either of them cared about Abby enough to risk their own lives in her defense, the ways in which they’d use the petite blonde would be creative and relentless. They’d do more than hurt her.
They’d break her in every way possible.
While Cade remained fully dressed in a ripped black T-shirt and matching cargo pants—only his shoes had been removed—Abby stood in a similar state of undress as Thea. Instead of a tank top, she wore only a black sports bra and a pink pair of boy shorts with a purple waistband. On her feet again, she shivered violently against the cold, her lips colorless, and her eyes wide, but surprisingly, she didn’t look quite as afraid as Thea had expected.
Zerrik came next, also fully dressed sans boots, being led along by another big, ugly werewolf with more testosterone than brains. Of course, Zerrik sported the same neckwear, his collar possibly even thicker than hers with a padlock the size of her damn fist. They’d expected him to be the bigger threat. Wiping the blood from her hands on the hem of her tank top, Thea snorted.
She and her friends stood in a loose circle, each of them shadowed by a werewolf enforcer, and they seemed to be waiting on something. Every few seconds, the guard closest to her would look over his shoulder toward the tree line, his scowl deepening. The sun had almost finished its descent in the west, and only the barest hint of day still clung to the horizon below the cloud cover. Thea couldn’t detect even a single star, and she spotted only the ghostly outline of the moon through the ominous clouds.
The scent of rain drifted on the wind—the breeze colder without the warmth from the sun. Normally, Thea liked the rain, but this time, the pleasant fragrance that brought back fond memories was marred by the same foul odor she’d detected back at the truck stop. Death. More than death, though, colder somehow. Savage and brutal. If evil had a scent, she felt sure it would smell like this.
Still, they waited. The world plunged into darkness, the night oppressive in its stillness. Growing restless, Thea turned to the enforcer closest to her, sucking in a breath to demand to know why the hell they were just standing there, but he spoke first.
“You’re late.”
He didn’t speak loudly, his volume within the range of polite conversation, and for an odd moment, Thea thought he’d spoken to her. Then, through the towering trees that stood sentinel to the east, a shadowy figure stepped into the clearing and strode toward them.
In the darkness, she couldn’t make out any distinguishable features, just vague impressions. Tall, broad shoulders, lean waist, narrow hips, muscular arms. Even from the distance, she could scent him, smell the combination of earth, musk, and a hint of something more, something she couldn’t name, but that all werewolves exuded. Not cold and bitter like the guards, but still…dark.
Lifting his head as he approached, the newcomer stepped into the silvery rays that shone through a part in the clouds. Moonlight glinted off the metal shackle around his neck, and Thea gasped when she noticed the thin, white scars that littered his chest, shoulders, and arms. Beneath the scars, his skin appeared ashen, and as she watched him, she idly wondered when he’d last seen the sun.
If her captors could do that to one of their own, she didn’t want to imagine what they’d be capable of doing to her or the rest of her group.
“Alpha Chase would like them bathed and dressed,” the new guy said, his voice deep and masculine, smooth like flowing water down a stream. “I’m to escort them to the cabin.”
As he spoke, he turned his gaze on her, his eyes wide and his nostrils flared. His shoulders tensed, his body vibrated, and a low, rumbling growl rolled through his chest. The enforcer closest to Thea laughed.
“I think he likes you, kitten.”
“Stupid pup,” the ugly bald one added, shaking his head with a derisive snort. “You don’t learn, do you, Rhys?”
The one he’d called Rhys relaxed his stiff posture, and his stunned expression melted into a look of indifference. “She’s nice to look at,” he said, his tone devoid of inflection. “Been a while since we’ve had any new females around here.”
“I can’t argue with you there.” The wolf beside her reached out, skimming the back of his hand over her bare arm. “Maybe the alpha will let us have a little fun with her before the Gallows.”
“Be a waste not to,” the enforcer standing behind Zerrik agreed. “She’s a fighter.”
“True.” Her personal guard grew bolder, his knuckles brushing over the swell of her breast through her tank top. “I like the fighters.”
“Then you’ll love this,” Thea muttered, grabbing the hand currently traveling toward her waist and giving it a sharp twist. The satisfying sound of bones snapping echoed like a gunshot through the darkness. “I wouldn’t do that,” she warned the enforcer when he yelled and reached for the button around his neck. “You push that button, and I seize up, I might just snap your whole fucking hand off by accident. We wouldn’t want that, would we?”
Maybe none of their victims had ever fought back, because several tense seconds passed where none of the wolves seemed quite sure of how to proceed. Unfortunately, maiming and threating one guard didn’t prevent the others from eventually acting. One by one, Cade, Zerrik, and Abby fell to the ground, their bodies convulsing. The shackles—Zerrik’s collar and the humans’ handcuffs—buzzed with electricity, emitting blue sparks that crackled and popped.
Neither male made a noise other than involuntary grunts, but Abby screamed, the sound agonizing. Her eyes rolled ba
ck, her head thrashing in the grass, her elbows locked as her fists pounded rhythmically against her bare thigh.
“Fuck,” Thea spat, reluctantly releasing the wolf. “Enough,” she said louder, her voice carrying. “I’ll play nice. Just stop.”
The enforcers released the buttons around their necks with arrogant smirks. Cade and Zerrik immediately pushed to their hands and knees, both males panting as they struggled to regain their breath. Abby, however, didn’t move.
“She’ll be okay,” the one named Rhys assured her. Without hesitation, he marched through the gathered wolves and bent to scoop Abby’s small, limp body into his arms. “She’s just unconscious, probably from the pain. Her heartbeat is steady.”
Unwilling to take him at his word, Thea tilted her head to the side, blocking out everything else as she strained to hear what Rhys heard. The quick but steady thumping of Abby’s heart threaded through the sounds of the surrounding forest and the competing thrum of the other pulses. Thea sighed inwardly with relief.
“Come,” Rhys beckoned, jerking his head toward the tree line. “The Gathering will be starting soon. You need to be ready.” He met her gaze, his eyes narrowed and intense, communicating to her without words not to cause any more trouble. “This way.”
Without waiting to see if they’d follow, Rhys started back toward the forest, Abby cradled in his massive arms. Cade followed immediately, his steps faltering as his legs continued to visibly shake from his recent torture. With a wary glance at Thea, Zerrik nodded once, then fell into step behind Cade.
Thea didn’t like it, but when one of the enforcers grabbed her by the elbow and shoved her roughly toward the rest of the group, she had no choice. Instead of trailing behind, however, she marched purposely past Cade and Zerrik, slowing only when she reached Rhys’ side.
“Where are we going?”
“To the cabin,” the wolf answered simply.
“Great. What the fuck is the cabin?”
“You won’t be hurt,” he assured her.
Yet.
The word lingered unspoken between them. Thea didn’t miss that fact that he hadn’t answered her question, but she’d find out soon enough. Instead, she asked another.
“How long have you been here?”
“A while.”
Moonbeams illuminated his skin, casting shadows in the dips and curves of his hard body. His muscles bunched and flexed with every step, his shoulders rigid, and his back tense. She had the strangest urge to touch him, to feel his bare skin beneath her fingertips, and trace the faint scars. She wanted to offer even a small measure of comfort or reassurance.
Of course, she did none of those things. Rhys might be a prisoner, but he was still a werewolf. Clearly, her electroshock therapy had fried her brain.
Sighing, she tilted her head back, staring up toward the moon in an attempt to calm her racing pulse and dispel unwanted thoughts. Only, she couldn’t find the moon through the dark, heavy clouds. A frown tugged at the corners of her lips, her gaze inexplicably drawn back to Rhys. His skin still glowed, bathed in moonlight. She stared up again.
By the third time she’d looked between the sky and the wolf’s back, panic constricted her chest, her stomach twisted into knots, and though she shook her head, she couldn’t deny the facts. Rhys didn’t glow, not in the traditional sense, and his skin didn’t reflect the light of the moon. Instead, she could only describe it as a radiance, an aura of sorts, one that burned from the inside out, and one that only she could see.
“Fuck.”
Rhys grinned, but he didn’t feel much humor at the situation. “I wondered when you were going to get there.”
He’d picked up the female’s scent before he’d even cleared the trees. Warm and rich, with just a hint of bite, like spiced vanilla on a brisk autumn day. At first, he’d hurried his steps, eager to find the source of the inviting fragrance, but it hadn’t taken him long to realize he rushed towards tragedy.
Stepping into the clearing to find the new prisoners surrounded by guards, he’d hoped he’d been wrong. He’d hoped the scent appealed to him because of some lost memory he couldn’t recall. Then he’d seen her. Long legs, lean muscles, caramel skin, her expression defiant and resolute, she’d called to him on a primal level, awakening instincts he’d long ago forgotten.
When she’d snapped the enforcer’s wrist, cowing him without breaking a sweat, Rhys hadn’t been able to stop the growl of approval that rumbled up from his diaphragm. When she’d threatened him further, glib yet unrelenting, he’d been captivated. When she’d put her friends before herself, promising her cooperation for their safety, he’d fallen a little bit in love.
And he didn’t even know her name.
“I’m sorry.”
He was sorry because she deserved better than a broken werewolf for a mate, and because he’d give anything for her not to be there. He was sorry they wouldn’t get a chance to know each other. He’d never see her smile. She’d have a beautiful smile. He could almost picture it, but the pack never gave their playthings any cause for joy. He’d never hear her laugh, or see her dance, or watch her eyes glaze with desire for him.
Mostly, he was sorry for what awaited her on the full moon. No one ever survived the Gallows. No one, except him.
“I know.” A small sigh escaped her full, parted lips. “I guess I’m sorry, too.”
“You have no reason to apologize.” She hadn’t asked to be kidnapped, assaulted, held prisoner, or forced into the Gallows for the sheer entertainment of the alpha.
Softly, like the light fluttering of butterfly wings, her fingertips brushed over his back, her touch lingering between his shoulder blades. “They look like claw marks,” she commented, tracing a few of his numerous scars. She sounded appalled. “What the hell happened to you, Rhys?”
He didn’t answer, but reveled in her touch, losing himself in the quiet cadence of her voice. He liked the way she said his name, how natural it sounded on her lips.
“No more questions.” He wanted to know her, to spend hours listening to her talk, but he couldn’t risk the suspicion of the enforcers. “We’re almost there.”
Of course, she didn’t listen, and Rhys found her stubbornness both frustrating and oddly endearing.
“You never answered me. What’s this cabin? What’s going to happen there?”
“You’ll be able to shower, and they’ll give you clothes for the Gathering.”
“What gathering?”
Thankfully, the female in his arms chose that moment to stir, her small body trembling when she realized who held her. “Easy,” he soothed. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He couldn’t make the same promise for the pack. “How are you feeling?”
Thea walked quietly at Rhys’ side, watching the interaction between him and Abby. It amazed her that someone so big could be so gentle. He spoke quietly, reassuring the female, calming her fears. Carefully, he repositioned her in his arms, cradling her small body to surround her with his warmth and shield her partial nudity from the other wolves.
There was nothing sexual in the gesture, only protectiveness. She’d never met another werewolf like Rhys. Not even Gabriel had been blessed with so much patience and kindness. It might have been an act, a façade to win her trust, but she doubted it. Rhys was too damn broken to attempt to manipulate anyone.
“Where are we going?” Abby asked, lifting her head to look over at Thea. “What happened?”
Avoiding her question, Rhys stopped so abruptly, Cade walked right into his back. Without a word, he turned and deposited Abby into the male’s arms where she immediately curled against Cade’s chest. Both men nodded at each other, then Rhys continued leading them on their march through the woods.
“What was all that about?” Thea questioned.
Rhys shrugged. “She was scared. I thought she might be more comfortable with someone she knew…someone human.”
“Instead of some big, scary Gemini?”
She said it flippantly, but in her hea
rt, she knew most humans saw them that way, even the ones who pretended to be their friends and allies. The Gemini—beasts with two faces, two natures—were never to be fully trusted. Considering how the Coalition treated humans, like property or favored pets, she couldn’t say she blamed them.
After the Purge, when the world had gone to shit, prominent vampire and shifter families had put aside centuries of conflict to come together, deciding they’d be best suited to rule what was left of the planet. They’d formed the Allied Races Coalition, and ruled over the rest of them—other paranormals included—like supreme gods in their hilltop mansions.
“Yes,” Rhys answered, interrupting her downward spiral. “Instead of a monster like me.”
So much sadness and self-hatred laced his voice, Thea couldn’t breathe for a moment. He twisted his hands together, rubbing at his knuckles and wrists, as if trying to scrub away some filth she couldn’t see. He didn’t even seem to realize he was doing it, but after a few seconds had passed, and his movements became more agitated, Thea couldn’t watch anymore.
Placing her hand atop his, she squeezed, holding on until he stopped fidgeting and looked at her. “What have they done to you?”
He turned his gaze toward the sky, his shoulders rounded, but he didn’t pull away from her. “Nothing more than I deserve.”
CHAPTER THREE
“I’m sorry,” Rhys muttered for the third time in twenty minutes. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”
The cabin he’d spoken of turned out to be exactly that. A log structure with glowing amber lights, rustic furniture, and a warm, inviting fireplace Thea wanted to curl up in front of and sleep for a week. Instead, she’d been ushered down a narrow hallway to the modified prison-style showers where an enforcer had removed her collar and shoved her into the bathroom.
The ugliest blue and yellow tiles covered the entire room, all the way up the walls to the open beams of the ceiling. Six chrome-plated shower heads ran in a straight row across the longest wall, each directly above a matching drain in the floor. Thea half expected the wolves to douse her in lye, but they just laughed and jeered before retreating to the front of the cabin, leaving Rhys to stand watch.
