Savage Satisfaction

by Lila Dubois

  “Beautiful,” William said. The light caught the patterns of her wings, the subtle colorings of cream and brown. One large black eye regarded him. It—no, she, for this was Mirela, his falcon—spread her wings.

  “Ah, can I say something?” Christoffer had a white-knuckled grip on the bars of his cell.

  “No.” William didn’t need any more biting comments from the wolf. His pride was smarting from the way the boy had laughed at his speech.

  “Mirela, don’t be stupid,” Christoffer said. He paced down his cell to be closer to the bird. She was opening and closing her wings softly. “Mirela, be calm.”

  “Stop talking to her,” William said, frowning. Was Christoffer taunting her?

  Christoffer was crouched, whispering to the falcon, who’d taken a few awkward steps closer to him.

  “I said stop.” William walked toward them.

  Mirela spread her wings, beak opening. She made a strange hissing noise.

  He took another step and his foot hit the collar she’d kicked away. He picked it up. “Mirela, change back, now.”

  The falcon opened her beak again, and this time let out a piercing cry. She spread her wings and took off. She flew in tight circles around the limited space.

  “I command you to change back,” William said, struggling to keep his voice calm.

  “Look out!” Christoffer shouted.

  The falcon streaked toward him, razor-sharp claws spread.

  Chapter Four

  Christoffer’s warning came too late.

  Mirela’s back claw caught William’s right cheek, opening a deep gash. He roared in pain and dropped to his knees, hands pressed to his face. For one horrible moment he couldn’t see out of his right eye. He blinked hard and his vision returned. He could see the blood dripping from between his fingers to fall to the stone floor.

  “Mirela, calm down, stop! You can’t get out!” It was Christoffer’s voice. Holding his face, William looked up to see the falcon darting across the ceiling. She hit the roof, dropped a few feet, caught herself and went careening into a wall.

  Christoffer ran to him. William had dropped to the ground close enough to the bars that the boy was able to reach through them and touch his shoulder.

  “Did she get your eye?” he asked, voice grim. “She’s panicked.”

  As Christoffer spoke, Mirela streaked between two of the bars, on a collision course with the wall. Christoffer leapt to his feet with inhuman quickness and snatched the falcon from the air. Her claws caught him once across the chest before he got her under control. Folding her wings, he wrapped his arms around her, turning her so she faced out and couldn’t get him with her beak. The falcon screamed.

  William grabbed her collar and staggered to his feet, one hand still on his face. He reached between the bars and slid the collar over the falcon’s head. It snapped closed, and for a moment lay heavy around the falcon’s upper body.

  The falcon’s scream turned into that of a woman as Mirela took human form once more.

  She thrashed in Christoffer’s hold, her hair flying around her face, sticking to her sweaty skin. She continued to scream, though now it was words, most of which he didn’t understand, though he did hear her call him an ass.

  She was wild, insane. Inhuman.

  Pain swept over him as his shock faded, and he gritted his teeth and groaned. It felt as though the right side of his face were on fire.

  As the pain ebbed, William was overwhelmed by anger.

  He pushed away from the bars, wobbling. “How…dare you,” he growled. He barely recognized his own voice. Christoffer released Mirela, who backed away. Christoffer wore the same expression as the day before when William had forced him to his knees—as if he were a soldier at attention. He seemed to be waiting, waiting for William’s command.

  Grandfather was right, they are savages, animals. Don’t be fooled because they look human.

  “Christoffer,” William said, “bring her to me.”

  Christoffer’s face crumpled briefly in sadness, but then his shoulders firmed and he turned to Mirela. She was pressed against the far wall, horror writ upon her features as she looked at William.

  “Make this easy on me, will you?” Christoffer asked as he reached her side.

  She babbled in Romani until Christoffer shook his head and reminded her to speak English.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You cannot keep me from the sky,” she said, head swiveling from Christoffer to William.

  William’s heart softened. She was panicked, acting on instinct.

  But that was what he feared most.

  A new rush of pain brought a new rush of anger—anger combined with old grief and fear. He had to gain control over them, he would not let the past repeat itself. He would not be his father.

  Christoffer grasped her upper arm and led her to the door of his cell, but she jerked away.

  “You would give me to him? Traitor.” She spat in Christoffer’s face.

  For the first time William thought more kindly of the wolf than of the falcon. He’d been a fool blinded by her beauty.

  “Bring her to me,” he repeated.

  Christoffer, who had looked pained at her words—that is, before she spat in his face—grabbed her arm and hauled her to the cell door. William reached through the bars and took her arm. Mirela shrank back from him.

  He needed his other hand to unlock the door. He lifted his palm from his face. A fresh wave of pain overtook him, nearly bringing him to his knees. His fingers tightened their hold on her arm.

  Fumbling in his pocket for the key, he extracted it and then unlocked the door. He released her to push it open. She tried to run but Christoffer caught her.

  “You’ll let him take me?” she demanded.

  “Look what you did. I told you to stay calm,” Christoffer said.

  “I can’t, not with this.” She ripped at the collar. “Didn’t you hear him? He is controlling my falcon, your wolf. Why would you obey him? You are angry as I.”

  “I have to obey him,” Christoffer hissed through gritted teeth, “he’s my Alpha.”

  William lost the thread of their conversation at that interesting point. The throbbing of his damaged face stole his attention. He didn’t realize he was falling until strong hands caught him.

  “William,” Christoffer said, warm breath puffing against his hair, “you need to go to the doctor. You’re hurt. You need stitches.”

  “You smell good,” he muttered, not even really knowing what he was saying.

  “And I’d be happy to let you smell me, among other things, but that has to be after you go to the doctor.”

  “I will deal with her first. I must. I will suffer—” He stopped, panting, then swallowed. “I will suffer no disobedience or violence toward me. I won’t let her be like that bitch. That bitch who almost killed, almost killed…” William lost his thought, leaning heavily on the wolf.

  “She didn’t mean to hurt you. She’s scared.”

  Christoffer’s defense of her reignited William’s anger. He pushed himself upright and met the wolf’s gaze. Christoffer bent his head. William grabbed Mirela’s arm and dragged her from the cage. He pulled the door closed and, after a pause, locked it.

  Despite Christoffer’s obedience, William didn’t yet fully trust the wolf.

  Half dragging, half leaning on her, William took Mirela to her cell. “I will not have disobedience from you,” he said. “I am your master. You acknowledge this?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Then you will understand why I must do this. I cannot have you, either of you, thinking it is acceptable to be violent toward myself or any other member of my household.”

  He pushed her into the cell and pulled the door closed. “I had not planned to keep you in these cages for more than a night. They were meant only to show you how serious I was and to protect us while you grew used to your collars. But now…now you will remain in this cage until I say otherwise.”

  *

/>   Mirela screamed and cursed in Romani.

  Christoffer was not used to this kind of stress. He lived his life for pleasure, in all its various legal and illegal forms. Even when he’d been sent here, it had been nothing more than another adventure. Life was fun. Life was sex and Class-A drugs.

  The night in the forest, planning his quick escape from this place, seemed months ago instead of only days. William was Alpha, his Alpha, and Christoffer could not walk away or disobey. When William had ordered Christoffer to bring Mirela to him, Christoffer had felt an overwhelming need to obey.

  Christoffer had grown up in a strong pack and obedience to his Alpha came as naturally to him as breathing. His life of carefree indulgence was possible only because he knew how to obey an Alpha. His Alpha, his father, had borne the burden of life’s troubles for all the members of his pack. Like any father he’d huffed and puffed about Christoffer getting a job, making his own money, but in the end the Alpha had to support each member of his pack.

  No matter where Christoffer was in the world, he always knew that whatever problem he encountered he could pass it on to his Alpha and continue his carefree life until the Alpha told him what the solution was to be.

  But now that security was crumbling. He had found a new Alpha, but this man was not a wolf and he had no paternal lenience.

  And now that Christoffer had acknowledged William as an Alpha there would be no escape.

  “I have to be harsh with you. I-I have to.” William staggered, shook his head, winced, then went on. His voice was barely audible due to Mirela’s tortured screams. “If I am not you… You will hurt her. No, you will.” He pointed at Christoffer.

  “Who will I hurt?” Christoffer asked. William wasn’t making sense. They were in trouble if he passed out.

  “My mother,” William whispered.

  “If you take my falcon,” Mirela said in English, “I have no reason to live. I would rather you kill me than make me live without the sky.”

  “I will let you fly when I wish it.”

  “It is my only pleasure,” she ranted. Her hair hung in wild tangles around her face. She looked like a gypsy witch. “It is all I love. Without it I am lost. You want me to follow you around day and night, begging to be allowed to fly? I would rather be dead.”

  William staggered back, his strength finally gone. Christoffer reached through the bars and caught him by the shoulders. Electricity raced through his fingertips where they touched William.

  With his assistance, William dropped to sit on the floor. Christoffer knelt behind him, drawn instinctively into protection mode.

  Protect the Alpha. Protect the Alpha.

  “Perhaps I can offer you something. A gift,” William said faintly.

  “You will remove the collar?”

  “Do not push me.” William slapped his hand on the floor. The action was too vigorous and he had to pause to catch his breath. Christoffer rubbed his shoulders. No Englishman should be this muscled. Focus, Christoffer, you’re in the middle of a crisis. “I will, if I am satisfied with your obedience after a few days, take your collar off during the day, though you will remain locked in here.”

  Mirela looked as though she would protest. Christoffer glared at her. The girl had a one-track mind and didn’t know to quit when she was ahead. What did she expect? She’d just ripped open the man’s face.

  William tried to stand. Christoffer crouched, hooked his hands under William’s arms and pulled him up.

  “You need a doctor,” Christoffer reminded him.

  “Doctor, yes…” William looked at Christoffer, who bit back a yelp. William’s face was laid open to the bone. There was blood on his neck and all down the right side of his chest. William nodded shakily and left, locking the door behind himself.

  “I can’t stay locked in here.”

  “Would you please shut up about it?” Christoffer groaned.

  “This is prison.”

  “Yeah, it is. Guess what? You deserve it. You just attacked him. If he went to human police about this they’d send you to prison. What did you think you were doing? All he wanted was for you to be obedient. Change, change back. That’s all he asked.”

  She fell silent over that. But—unfortunately—the silence didn’t last.

  “I’m obedient,” she said.

  If she really believed that she was deluded. “No, you’re not. You think you’re obedient but you want your own way more than you want to obey. You may have been a good daughter, or whatever it was that made you think you’re obedient, but you’re selfish.”

  “I’m not.”

  Christoffer rolled to face the wall, though the whole building was dark so it didn’t make a difference what way he faced. He was trapped, truly trapped, for the first time in his life. Before, he’d always been able to call his father if serious matters intruded on his pleasure. His father always found him a way out of whatever situation he was in.

  But his father would not find him a way out of this; it was his father who had sent him here.

  “I am not obedient?”

  He gritted his teeth. He’d tried being nice to her, but after what she’d done all he wanted was for her to shut up and not make the situation any worse. She was selfish and annoying. “Glad you finally understand.”

  “If I am not obedient what’s going to happen to me?”

  “You’ll have to learn.”

  “What if I can’t?”

  “Then you’ll live in this fucking little prison forever.”

  She didn’t speak again. Christoffer lay awake in the dark for a long time.

  *

  Mirela lay on her belly, arms tucked against her chest.

  The life she’d imagined under the rule of the lord was a far cry from the life she now led. She hadn’t expected anything grand—a simple room, chores and a few days each month spent flying for the lord’s pleasure. She’d expected to, for the most part, find herself alone while at the lord’s house.

  She’d been an obedient daughter, doing chores, helping her mother, never sneaking out the way her sisters did.

  Lying in the dark with her face streaked with tears, she could admit that her status as “tribute” had afforded her some leniency. Her sisters had not been able to fly as often as she. There was always something they should be learning—cooking, sewing, jewelry making—and so they did not get to take to wing as often as she had.

  It was the same for her brothers—there was always something to do as humans that prevented them from taking to wing.

  The wolf was right, she was selfish. She wanted her pleasure—flying—more than she wanted to please Lord William.

  The next time Lord William came for her she would do exactly as he asked. She winced at the memory of what she’d done to his face. Christoffer had been right—she’d aimed for his eye. The confined space had thrown her off and she hadn’t had the power to aim properly, which was a stroke of luck. What would have happened if she’d blinded him?

  Despite the self-lecture and her remorse over the injury she’d caused, Mirela wanted nothing more than to be free.

  *

  It took nine stitches to close up his face.

  William had gone to his personal physician—a woman he paid privately rather than deal with the National Health Service. He suspected the doctor did not believe his story of falling from his horse in the woods but she said nothing. He was given lovely pain pills and it wasn’t until the first one took effect that he realized how much pain he’d been in.

  He drove back to the house, in total disregard for the warnings on the pill bottle, arriving well after midnight.

  He staggered up the stairs only to stop halfway.

  It had been ten hours since he fed Mirela and Christoffer.

  His bed cried out to him, his legs were weary and his head started to spin from the drugs. They would be fine until morning. He could ignore them and go to bed.

  He turned to the kitchen.

  His grandfather would no doubt have
left them as they were, but William couldn’t bring himself to do so.

  He threw storage containers of sliced meats and cheese into a bag along with bread and a few bottles of water.

  The walk to the pen seemed endless. He tripped several times, though even in the dark he knew every inch of this land. He pulled the exterior door key from his pocket and let himself in.

  “Close your eyes.”

  Despite the warning Christoffer opened his eyes at the exact moment William turned the lights on. He hissed and snapped his eyes closed, rubbing them.

  “Sorry,” William murmured. There was rustle, then a crash. “Damn.”

  Christoffer sat up, blinking. William was standing just inside the door, leaning against the wall. A bag had fallen from his hand, bottles of water and plastic containers spilling from it. Christoffer took a deep whiff and caught the scent of ham—sugar glazed and roasted to be precise. His stomach rumbled.

  “Food.” William’s legs gave out and the Lord of Eahrington collapsed to the floor. Christoffer ran to him, but he was too far away from the bars for him to help.

  “Throw me the key,” he said. William’s face was nearly as white as the gauze pad that covered his cheek. He hadn’t showered. Christoffer could see and smell the blood dried on his neck.

  “I don’t trust you,” William said.

  “You’re a fucking idiot.” Christoffer’s heart was racing. His Alpha was in trouble, in pain—weak and in need of protection. He had to help him. “Give me the key. You need help.”

  “I’m a fool,” William said, but his hand disappeared into his pocket and he tossed a key toward Christoffer.

  Christoffer let himself out and ran to William’s side. The man whom only yesterday had seemed cold and fearsome now looked like a pale medieval knight, wasting away from a mortal blow.

  “Did you see a doctor?”

  “Yes. I’m fine, it’s the pills that are making me, making me… Whatever.”

  Christoffer barked out a laugh. It was the first time the prim Lord Eahrington hadn’t sounded like a poster-boy for British public school. Christoffer helped him to sit up with his back against the wall. William closed his eyes.