Assembly: The Feral Souls Trilogy - Book 2

by Woods, Erica

  “How did you come to know Ash?” she asked with a wide smile, twirling her finger in a gesture for me to turn around so she could adjust the back straps.

  “Oh, I . . . It’s a long story.” I held still while her nimble fingers ran under the shoulder straps and gave the vest a good tug.

  “They’re a good pack. Decent,” she said. “Okay, you can turn back now.”

  “You know them?”

  “I’ve spoken to Ash a few times. Jason, too. That one is a charmer!”

  My shoulders stiffened as I pictured my guys talking and laughing with this cheery lycan female. No matter what they said, they’d be so much better off with—

  My monster suddenly stretched its shadowy body, cracking its jaw wide in a big yawn. In my mind’s eye, I caught a glimpse of sharp, glittering fangs, and I understood that the deceptive act was just that. An act. Because when the woman smiled at me, I could have sworn a silent snarl escaped those yawning maws.

  Clear, green eyes widened, and the woman’s mouth parted on a harsh breath.

  “Forgive me,” she said and bowed her head. “I did not mean to offend.”

  “No . . . no, you didn’t.” I drew air into lungs that felt starved for oxygen, and offered her a shaky smile. “It’s my fault.” I rubbed over my chest, willing my monster to go to sleep once more. “I’ve been on edge since we got here. A human among lycans . . .”

  She followed my gaze as I looked over the mostly-male crowd. Hard bodies towered over us both, muscles flexed and bunched, teeth flashed, and the sound of raucous laughter mixed with aggressive taunts and quiet promises of violence.

  “I see what you mean,” she said in a soft tone. “Even being one of them, I sometimes struggle. Though my gender is termed more vicious, I’ve always felt it was the opposite. But then, I’ve never quite fit in.”

  Me neither.

  “What’s your name?” I asked, embarrassed neither of us had thought to do so earlier.

  “Jane.” Her cheeks blushed a rosy pink. “And yours?”

  “Hope.”

  “Welcome to the world of lycans, Hope. May the White Wolf bless you and your mates.”

  My eyes shot to hers. Mates? “T-thank you. And, erm, likewise.”

  With a shy smile, she ducked her head and waved me along.

  After a short hesitation, I trudged over to join Gideon and was promptly swallowed by the huge crowd waiting for the game to start. For once, no one cared about the lone human, too focused on their own goals and strategies to pay me any mind.

  I craned my neck to look for my guys, but I was surrounded on all sides by towering males, eager youngsters, and a few sharp-eyed females. The lycans filled every inch of the gathering circle; those on the opposite end so far away they were only blobs of various colors in the distance.

  Panic threatened, but then Slade found me, herding me to the outer edge of the teeming mass.

  So many voices, some loud and some soft, all blended together to create a roar so deafening, I didn’t heart a word Slade said. He pointed into the forest, and I gave a nod back, guessing that was the direction we were meant to run.

  A strange excitement fluttered in my belly. Everything was sharp. In focus. And when a dozen howls rang out, signaling the start of the game, I was among the many thousand lycans that shot out in a mad dash through woods, exhilaration the only sensation whipping through my blood.

  Let the game begin.

  50

  Hope

  We ran as a wide-spread group for all of thirty seconds before lycans fell away by the dozens, diverting through the trees, over rocks and boulders, jumping over bushes and fallen logs and disappearing from sight.

  And then I was alone.

  One minute passed. Then two. Then three. I counted as I made my way deeper into the forest, knowing I only had ten minutes before the seekers would be set loose.

  I halted at a trickling stream, as wide as I was tall, transfixed by the clear, gurgling liquid. Sunlight trickled through the canopy above, heating the parts of me that stood in its path, sweeping away excitement in favor of tranquility. There was no wind to rustle leaves and grass, no stomping feet or howling lycans, the only sounds that of birds singing and squirrels playing in the trees.

  My breathing slowed, my eyes drifted closed, and for a quiet, quiet moment, I did nothing but feel.

  A howl in the distance.

  My eyes snapped open, taking in the stream ahead. Did water distill scent?

  Does it matter?

  Getting cold and wet wouldn’t be worth the few points I might be able to earn. Not only because I would be found early—I was no lycan and couldn’t use my nose to change position based on the non-existent wind or the locations of the seekers—but because I had a feeling my guys would consider it an unnecessary risk.

  They were always terrified I’d get sick—as if catching a cold would be the death of me.

  Not wanting them to worry, I dismissed the idea of a dunk. A few well-placed rocks made for an easy crossing, and when I landed on the other side of the stream, I stumbled to the side to avoid stepping on a beautiful, yellow flower. Alone against the bristling grass, it stood tall and proud, its center angled up toward the sun, almost like it was stretching to catch every single ray before night fell.

  The flower reminded me of myself. Not its beauty, but its thirst for light and its aching solitude. It was all by itself without any of its kind to keep it company.

  Just like I’d been.

  Deep in my soul, I felt a familiar ache.

  I might not be alone any longer, but chances were, by the end of the day, all the loneliness I’d ever felt would come crashing back—only a thousand times worse because of the loss I would suffer.

  Grief hollowed my stomach and pushed a choked sound up through my nose. I squeezed my eyes shut, concentrated on my breathing.

  With every fiber of my being, I knew today was the day I’d lose them. I couldn’t put it off any longer, couldn’t contain the secrets pushing at my skin, trying to find a weakness, a way out, sharper and more cutting than any knife that had ever carved its pain into my flesh.

  Today was the day.

  It had to be.

  Nails dug into my palms, and I winced. My eyes opened, and I forced myself to leave this spot, to leave the flower and the terrible dread behind.

  The ground was uneven and mostly bare, but dead vegetation and fallen pinecones were easier to step over than the random, half buried rocks that kept trying to trip me. A few dense bushes caught my attention as possible hiding spots but were quickly dismissed. Most had thorns, and those that didn’t looked impossible to penetrate.

  Where to hide?

  Ducking behind a tree would do no good—the seekers would not all come from the same direction—and squeezing into bushes would leave an obvious trail—especially if prickly thorns drew blood. But for a human among wolves, what options were left?

  Maybe I should keep walking. If I go far enough I’ll probably not be found first.

  It made sense that those closer would be found sooner, but a part of me wanted to do more than simply avoid being last. I wanted to do well. At least semi-well. Despite what the guys had said last night, I still wanted to make them proud. I wanted to show them that I could be more than just a burden. More than a fragile piece of glass that needed protecting and coddling.

  I wanted to be strong. Fierce.

  Stupid, I silently scolded myself. All my life I’d been weak. Helpless. Trapped and unable to escape. Why would I think I could ever be anything more?

  Just like my indecision had caused me nothing but grief, my uncertainty and lack of confidence had me arguing in my head when I should have been paying attention.

  Birds stopped chirping. Not all at once, but minute by minute, fewer and fewer added their voices to the song playing in the background. Sunlight still wound between the dense branches overhead, yet my skin had cooled. A flash of movement out of the corner of my eye was dismissed as the wi
nd moving a branch, and the prickling at the back of my neck was brushed off as nerves.

  Not knowing why, I found myself moving faster. A chill bit at my bare arms, and I gave them a brisk rub. Was it normal for such a cold breeze during spring or—

  The air is still.

  Breath caught by the sudden fear lodged in my throat, I spun around, gaze flying from tree to tree, bush to bush. But there was no one there. The forest was . . . quiet.

  I kept walking, a weird feeling in my belly, like it was filled with rodents gnawing at the lining; trying to get out. The disturbing thought refused to leave and the hairs on my arms rose.

  My feet moved faster.

  What was I scared of? Monsters? Hunters?

  I scoffed, but it lacked confidence, lacked power.

  This was the Assembly, an event filled with lycans. No Hunter would ever get close. And even if one did, the human hating lycans would—

  Human hating . . .

  I swallowed hard, my heart trying and failing to flee my chest, the only sounds I could hear its weak, fluttery rhythm. It wasn’t racing; it was tiptoeing. Scared, and stumbling.

  Like me.

  The unnatural silence blanketing the forest finally penetrated my thick skull.

  Where was the life?

  The few times I’d been in a forest before, it had been teeming with life. The rustle of bushes, the skittering of little legs, the hordes of insects marching across the ground on their eternal quest to clean up the world left in dirty shambles by all other species.

  Now it was quiet. Too quiet.

  As though they were all hiding.

  A horrible buzz at the back of my neck, like tiny bees stinging the sensitive skin in a warning so primal I knew I was being hunted.

  “What do we have here?”

  My heart stopped beating. Stopped, then started, then stopped again, tripping over itself to catch up, jumping up my throat and leaving my mouth coated with the metallic taste of blood and terror.

  “I can smell your fear, human.”

  The voice was low, but clear. Mildly excited, yet restrained. It suspended every muscle in my body, turned my feet to slabs of rock, my spine to useless jelly.

  I couldn’t take another step. Couldn’t move a muscle.

  “Don’t be shy,” another voice chimed in. Darker. Crueler. “Turn around and give us a look at the human who dared attend the Assembly.”

  Every cell in my body screamed for me to run, but a deeper, wiser instinct told me that running would initiate a chase. A chase would lead to a hunt. And a hunt would end with me dead on the ground, or worse; alive and aware while they fulfilled every ugly promise pulsing beneath their words.

  An unexpected, brief toss of wind teased the few strands of hair that had escaped my tight ponytail and brought an unfamiliar scent. Before I turned, I knew there were three lycans behind me. Three males.

  Instinctively, I knew these males were dangerous, and I imagined their hatred of me and all that was human clung to their bodies; had clung for so long that wherever they went, the bitter scent would always follow.

  Breath rasping down my dry throat, I forced my feet to turn.

  Whatever traces of hope I’d clung to fled when I came face to face with the three males who’d stalked me. These males would not follow the rules of the game. They would not hesitate to touch me, to hurt me. They would do what they wanted; Samuel’s threats be damned.

  They were predators, and I was their prey.

  “Hello there,” the closest one said when our eyes locked. His were mean. Dark and utterly devoid of compassion, a cruel contrast to his otherwise attractive features. Coppery hair glinted in the few rays of sun able to penetrate the thick canopy above. A proud chin. Full lips. And a body that both looked strong and well taken care of.

  When I didn’t reply, didn’t move, didn’t breathe, he threw his head back and laughed.

  “What’re you laughing at, Hank?” the one to Hank’s right said. Short blond hair, blue eyes, and a sadistic twist to his lips that grew more pronounced with every second his greedy eyes dragged over my body, spitting loathing and screaming want with each pass.

  “The irony of finding Ash’s little lost lamb so far away from her protectors.” Hank flashed a smile that was all teeth. “She’s been surrounded by his allies and pack every second of every day. Until now.”

  The last of the three lycans lifted two dark eyebrows and looked from Hank to me. “This is Ash’s female?” He moved closer and his nose wrinkled. “Not what I expected.”

  “What did you expect, Sal?” Hank asked.

  “Someone stronger. I mean, look at her . . .” He waved a hand in my direction and I flinched. “She’s scrawny. Weak. He could have his pick of females, why this one?”

  I shrank back, not because of the truth in those wounding words, but because the three strangers moved closer. For every unhurried step they took, I stumbled back, but it didn’t take them long to herd me against a tree and form a loose half circle around me.

  Hank and Blondie both wore hungry grins, but Sal’s hands were fisted at his sides and his lips were peeled back in a look of disgust. For a brief moment I wondered if maybe I could talk him into helping me, that maybe he would stop whatever hell the other two had planned, but then he spoke and I realized his disgust was reserved for me.

  “Humans shouldn’t be under any pack’s protection,” he said and edged closer. One of his hands lifted and grabbed a few loose strands of my hair. When I jerked away, he narrowed his eyes, moving so fast I had no chance of escaping. “You should be honored by any lycan’s touch,” he snapped and used my ponytail to yank my head back.

  “Let me go!” I wrapped my hands around his wrist, trying to lessen the ruthless pull on my scalp.

  God, why had I thought I could join a lycan game? Why had I ever thought I would be strong enough, smart enough, resourceful enough to be anything but a burden? Anything but a victim?

  While Sal kept me still, Blondie laughed and grabbed the vest Jane had helped me into. When he pulled, the straps bit into my flesh, then ripped.

  A horrible tearing sound rent the air, and I froze. Even knowing it was only the velcro, the violence of it stomped like a boot over my ribs.

  Sal pulled on my hair, forcing my head back at an unnatural angle, and then . . . And then the world tilted as Blondie touched me.

  Intimately.

  His disgusting hand shot between my legs, grabbed, and when a sob burst from my lips and my foot shot out to kick him, he squeezed so hard I knew I would bruise. “This pussy is lycan property. I’d think, being human and all, one wolf cock would feel the same as the next.”

  “F-fuck off!” I tried to imitate Ruarc’s threatening growl but my voice was weak and wobbly.

  They all laughed, and I felt myself diminishing. Felt my worth dwindling, my sense of self shrinking. In their eyes, I wasn’t a person. I wasn’t a woman. I wasn’t even a female.

  I was a toy. A toy they wanted to break.

  “I’ll fuck off, alright,” Blondie said. “I’ll fuck off right into you.”

  Nausea bubbled in my gut, and to my shame, I whimpered.

  “That sound . . . like bitch in heat,” Sal said. Still with a tight grip on my ponytail, he maneuvered me away from the tree and pulled me against his front. The scrape of his palm running down my back was so disgusting, so wrong, that even through my clothes my skin shriveled in its wake.

  My shirt tightened around my ribs just as the sound of tearing fabric ripped through the air for the second time in as many minutes. Cool air caressed my exposed back before the rough fabric of Sal’s shirt took its place.

  He held me close; a mocking, unwanted embrace, one hand gripping my ponytail, the other tugging on the shirt that had torn open from just below my shoulder blades down to the bottom. And while Hank watched, Blondie and Sal kept me prisoner between them.

  I choked on a scream as another revolting touch found its way to my lower stomach. Sal’s han
d underneath the fabric felt like one of the worst kinds of offenses. Had my skin been bared it would have been less intimate, but to feel him lift my shirt, feel his hand glide beneath it, putting his hand across my stomach like he had the right . . .

  The back of my throat burned like I was going to vomit.

  I wanted to weep. I wanted to whimper and hide and retreat to the place in my mind I knew I would offer escape. I could wait there, hope the pain wouldn’t be too bad and that I would live through their cruelty. Or I could fight. And be aware. And feel everything they did to me while I struggled, fought, survived.

  The choice was made for me when a fire ignited in the depths of my being and all that I was shrieked in denial. I exploded into motion, headbutted Blondie in the nose so hard I saw stars while my scalp burned from wrenching free of Sal’s hold.

  A low furious curse hissed between Blondies teeth, and I ducked beneath his outstretched arms and aimed a kick to the shin of the last lycan blocking my escape. Hank’s harsh grunt was not enough. I wanted him to scream. I wanted him to howl. I wanted him curled in a ball on the ground while he bled!

  But they were stronger than me, so I fled.

  I staggered into an uneven run, my legs rubber that refused to hold firm. It felt like a dream; I pushed with all my might, pumped my legs, yet I barely moved.

  My eyes burned, my pulse roared, my heart smashed against the cage of my chest.

  I was too slow.

  Crashing behind me; no attempt at stealth this time.

  One, two, three, four beats of my heart and then my arm was wrenched back. A fiery pain throbbed in my shoulder, but I kept the scream locked inside; used it to feed the firestorm of rage burning a hole in my belly and nudging my monster awake.

  I’d been abused my whole life. I’d given in to the pain and let despair take me away, but no more. I would not be made a victim.

  Not again.

  I would fight, and if I died, then at least I’d die while making my guys proud. I’d die fighting for the right to survive.