by Shea Balik
He’d lost count of how many times he’d passed out in the three days since Abdiel’s death. All Harper knew was the excruciating pain that existed as Roscoe and the other guards raped him repeatedly.
“Take a shower slave,” Roscoe sneered as he threw Harper into the shower. “You stink.”
The icy water hit Harper but cringing wasn’t an option. Hell, moving at that point wasn’t an option. Harper was pretty sure his left ankle was broken, as well as his right knee. His left shoulder was dislocated and uselessly hung at his side. There was also the hand Roscoe had stomped on that first day. Harper still couldn’t move his fingers and he was starting to worry he’d never have use of it again.
Then again, what did he need with his hand when death would be coming soon? Roscoe was too sadistic for there to be any other result from Harper’s treatment. Each day ended with a new broken bone. If that weren’t bad enough, Harper was sure he’d felt something tear when Roscoe had fucked him the night before.
The blood that had leaked from his ass in the night had confirmed it. Harper might be a shifter with quick healing but the sheer amount of injuries didn’t allow his body the time to heal properly. If Roscoe planned on another gangbang, Harper was pretty sure he wouldn’t survive it.
It was Harper’s one prayer. To escape this nightmare in the only way left - death.
“You’re useless,” Roscoe said as he pushed Harper with his foot, forcing him to turn over so the icy water cleaned his other side.
White hot pain radiated throughout his body. Those black spots that appeared in his vision from the sheer agony he endured were back. At least Harper knew he was about to get a small reprieve from the searing pain that spread from head to toe.
“I said get clean, maggot,” Roscoe yelled before swinging his foot and connecting solidly with Harper’s abdomen.
The crack of a rib breaking was the last thing he heard before darkness enveloped him in its warm embrace. Maybe, just maybe, this time he wouldn’t have to wake up.
****
“Damn it.” Roscoe stared down at the limp body of his new toy. Disgusted with how weak Harper was, Roscoe turned off the water and strode back into the bedroom and opened the door to the hallway where two of his guards were waiting.
His guards.
Unbidden, a smile formed on his lips at the thought. He was now Alpha. That narcissistic asshole, Abdiel was dead, leaving Roscoe to run this colony properly.
“Larry, Zed, get your asses in here and carry Harper to the table in the living room. Once you’ve tied him down, wake him up. It’s hard to have fun if he’s unconscious.” Roscoe watched the pair jump to do his bidding.
The irritation of Harper once more passed out lifted when he thought about how this colony was finally his to do with as he pleased. Abdiel had always been weak when it came to running things. The man didn’t care about anything but being under the radar of the council and running the drugs for the cartel.
Roscoe had been telling the man they should be the ones in charge, not the idiot weasels that made the drugs. Anyone can manufacture the substance they called la pequeña muerte, the little death. La pequeña muerte was a designer drug made specifically for a shifter’s high metabolism.
If a human took the drug, death was usually instantaneous. But for shifters, the high was something they couldn’t get any other way. Alcohol and other drugs, at most, would give them a light buzz. With la pequeña muerte they not only got high, users swore they reached heaven, which was how the drug got its name.
The drug was surprisingly easy to make, which was why Roscoe had pushed Abdiel to start making it themselves and cut the weasels out completely. But Abdiel was weak. Too worried the weasel cartel would come after them. With the power their colony would have, no one, not even the cartel, would be able to touch them.
Thankfully those pesky cats took care of Roscoe’s problem for him, leaving the position of Alpha open for him to take. He should send them a fruit basket for getting rid of Abdiel.
A roar echoed off the walls from downstairs, causing the hairs along his arms to rise. Roscoe headed to the window and cursed at the small group of shifters that were invading his home. The same shifters who attacked them a few days ago, killing Abdiel and most of the guards.
Not about to allow the same to happen to him, Roscoe headed to the bathroom and pushed on a tile along the far wall. A secret passage opened to a narrow set of stairs. Only a few knew of this opening. In fact, after Abdiel and his personal guards’ deaths, Roscoe was the only one left who knew of its existence.
Entering the small, cramped space, Roscoe made sure the secret door shut completely before heading down to the passage that would lead him away from town. He hated that he was being forced to flee, but Roscoe knew the only way he’d come out on top was if he was still alive.
Being adaptable was the reason Roscoe managed to survive all those years under Abdiel’s reign. It might take longer, but Roscoe would claw his way to the top once more. But first, he needed to build his own army, one that would be made of more than just mice. This one would have mercenaries who knew how to fight.
He would need money, and lots of it, to accomplish that. With that in mind, Roscoe headed for weasel territory. He had a cartel to take over.
CHAPTER 3
The closer Kirill and his men got to Mauston, the more his polar bear had tried to break free of his leash. Kirill did his best to keep the beast from doing just that, but he had to admit it was a battle he was losing.
His canines had slipped free, hanging down over his lower lip and the long, sharp claws on his hands were out and ready to tear into whoever got in his way. Thankfully he’d managed to control the rest of his body, but if they happened upon any humans there would be no hiding he was a shifter.
“Are you sure you should be going with us?” Mannix asked through the earpiece in Kirill’s helmet as they drove to the area in the woods they had burned just days before.
Going in as a small force wasn’t going to be easy, but they hoped with the stench of burning wood still in the area it would help to hide their scents. Going in with the same force they had used to get Jari also wasn’t an option. A mate had been taken then, giving them the excuse they needed to use deadly force.
Harper wasn’t a mate, so, their only recourse was to go in silently and kidnap the man. Kirill hoped they could do so before anyone was the wiser, but something inside of him told him that wasn’t going to happen.
“For the last time, Mannix, I’m fine.” Kirill was getting tired of the question and made sure his tone let his friend know it.
“I only ask because you passed the turnoff and are heading right for the town.” The sarcasm came through loud and clear. He knew his friend, Mannix, probably wore a smirk and was laughing at Kirill.
Pissed at himself for making a mistake before they’d even got there, Kirill made a U-turn and headed back to the dirt road that would lead them further into the forest the town of Mauston butted up against. Finally, he turned off the engine and swung his leg over the bike, standing as the five others with him did the same.
Mannix, Crash, Tevin, Arjun, and Zayden had been with Kirill for more than twenty years as they moved from place to place, running from those who hunted them. Not many humans knew about shifters, but those that did, tend to hunt them. It made settling in a human town impossible.
But it wasn’t humans they had run from the most. It was other shifters who hated them for being gay. Why? Kirill couldn’t say. As a shifter, the Gods gifted each of them with a mate, the other half of their soul. Many times their mates were of the same sex, so why other shifters felt it a sin, Kirill never understood.
Forced to run or be executed for his crime of being gay, Kirill had met several other shifters in the same boat as him. Together they had banded together over the years, protecting each other but never staying in one spot too long and risking the chance of being found by those hunting them.
All that changed when Kirill r
eceived a phone call from Nole, Edrick’s mate, inviting them to live in Miracle. It was a risk, but Kirill was tired of always having to move around. He was ready to settle down, even if that meant having to fight to keep his new home safe from those wanting them dead.
“Any questions?” Kirill asked of the five men he trusted most to have his back and get the task assigned them done.
Just as he thought, no one spoke.
Kirill turned on his heel and headed toward Mauston. Ten minutes later, they were sneaking through the streets, keeping as low a profile as possible while winding around various buildings. It wasn’t as hard as he’d thought it would be considering this town had just been attacked.
There were less than a handful of guards, all who looked dead on their feet. The citizens appeared frightened and tended to keep their gazes to the ground as if they refused to get involved by looking around. It was odd, still, if Kirill didn’t know better, he would swear these people were even more terrified now that Abdiel was dead.
His polar bear growled deep in his chest at the thought of someone worse than Abdiel in charge. His steps sped up as he thought of Harper in the hands of someone like that. Why he cared, Kirill still couldn’t explain, but he was desperate to get to Harper and make sure he was safe.
Minutes later he was in front of Abdiel’s mansion. Several soldiers even more dead on their feet than the ones in town stood guard at the door. A glance at his own men told Kirill everyone was in position and ready for his signal.
Something gut wrenching tore through him, seizing his heart in a vise-like grip. Kirill had to get inside – now.
Closing his fist, he ordered his men to make their way inside. They wouldn’t kill unless they were given no choice. Fortunately, these guards didn’t put up a fight as they were just too tired to even notice the enemy coming their way.
Entering the house, Kirill’s heart stopped beating completely. There, being tied to the table, was a man beaten so badly, he was hardly alive if the sound of his sluggish heartbeat was anything to go by. Bruised and battered, Kirill wanted to cry out that anyone had to suffer as this man obviously had.
One man, in a soldier’s uniform, finished tying the man’s right arm to the side of the table and stepped back grabbing the abused man’s ass in the process. “Think Roscoe would mind if I sampled Harper’s ass before the party begins?”
It took every bit of strength within Kirill not to tear both men apart when the second soldier snorted in derision. “He’d cut off your balls and feed them to you while we watched. You know the rules. Roscoe gets first dibs, then we can have our fun.” When he finished tying Harper’s left arm, the second man slapped Harper’s naked ass that now stuck up in the air for anyone to see.
Enraged, Kirill only saw red. He didn’t know or care who these men were. All Kirill knew was the need to rip them to shreds, piece by piece. For no one had the right to treat anyone like that, especially when that someone was Kirill’s mate.
“Oh, fuck,” Mannix whispered nearby. “He’s your mate, isn’t he?”
Kirill didn’t answer because right then one of the soldiers tying Harper up inserted his finger into his Harper’s ass. Death was all Kirill knew at that moment. Nothing else mattered but saving his mate from being touched and violated by another living soul.
The house shook as a roar that sounded as if it came from the depths of hell itself exploded from Kirill as he attacked the two men who dared to touch Harper. He slashed through flesh as if it were paper, demolishing anyone in his path to his mate.
“Kirill,” Mannix shouted. “They’re dead. You need to get Harper so we can get out of here before reinforcements show up.”
Just then a shot rang out. The bullet ricocheted off the stone fireplace behind them. Kirill turned. What the enemy saw, he wasn’t sure, but the three soldiers that now faced him turned white as a sheet. When it came to battle, being seven feet tall and three hundred and fifty pounds of muscle worked in his favor. But this time, Kirill knew it wasn’t just his size that scared the shit out of the guard. It was the promise of death in his eyes that had them running from the house.
“Fucking pansies,” Arjun mumbled as he walked toward them. When he glanced at Kirill’s face, he crossed himself. “I think I owe them an apology for calling them names.” Then Arjun saw the blood and body parts that were now strewn across the room. “Uh, Mannix.” Arjun’s gaze went from Kirill to Mannix and back again a split second later as if he realized the mistake he’d made taking his eyes off Kirill. “Should I be worried that Kirill has been possessed by a demon?”
“Just don’t touch his mate and you should be fine,” Mannix said, reminding Kirill that Harper was still tied naked to the table.
“Mate? Who?” Arjun turned to where Kirill was cutting the ropes off Harper. “Nice ass.”
Kirill didn’t think, he just reacted. He swiped his clawed hand toward Arjun, just missing him when Mannix had grabbed ahold of Arjun and pulled him out of arms’ reach. It didn’t matter that Arjun was his friend, it only mattered that someone else had looked at his very nude mate.
“Are you insane?” Mannix asked Arjun. “Don’t fucking look at Harper. Sure as shit, don’t comment on his looks or next time I’m not going to save your ass when Kirill tries to kill you.”
“You know, you really are an idiot,” Tevin said from his post at the doorway.
“Am not,” Arjun argued back. “How was I supposed to know Kirill would go all exorcist with a touch of psycho?”
“Uh, because that’s his mate, moron,” Crash said before smacking Arjun on the back of the head. “Now go watch the door with Tevin so we can get out of here.”
“Actually, after Kirill scared the crap out of those three guards, the streets have completely emptied.” Tevin shrugged. “It could be a trap, but I think the mice are too afraid to face Kirill to come out of hiding.”
With as much care as possible, Kirill untied Harper and picked his mate up in his arms. He hated that his mate was still naked but Kirill had no way of covering him. He only had a shirt and putting it on Harper would only cause his mate more pain, something he was unwilling to allow happen.
When he turned to carry his mate to the door he found Mannix standing next to him with a blanket in his arms. “I found this.”
“Thank you,” Kirill choked out as he struggled to keep his tears at bay when his mate whimpered as the blanket was laid on top of him. Once he got Harper home and on the mend, Kirill would find every person responsible for hurting his mate and rip them apart until there was nothing left.
He just prayed Harper would find a way to deal with the atrocities that he’d endured or Kirill wasn’t sure either of them would ever be okay again.
CHAPTER 4
Fear gripped Harper tightly in its talons as he felt the tendrils of consciousness slither into his mind. He wanted to rail against the Gods for not granting his fervent wish to die. How long was he to suffer before they would listen to his pleas?
Had he committed some grave sin the Gods were punishing him for? Harper couldn’t come up with anything that would merit being beaten and raped repeatedly. Then again, hadn’t he learned in his miserable existence, life was never fair.
“Please, my petal, please wake up.”
Harper held himself as still as possible, hoping against hope whoever was there didn’t know he was waking up. He cursed silently when a hand brushed against his arm and he jerked, letting whoever was there know he was indeed awake.
“It’s okay, my petal. You’re safe. I promise I’ll never let anyone ever hurt you again.” The deep timbre of the voice sank into Harper, easing some of the anxiety he felt.
A finger touched his hand and suddenly Harper was back in that mansion with dozens of men jeering and catcalling as one man shoved his cock in Harper’s mouth while another fucked his ass.
Shouting surrounded him as he fought like a demon possessed to get free. It might have been his lot in life for far too long, but never once did
Harper just take it. Death would have been preferable to being used like an object that didn’t have a say in what happened to him. So he fought, using claws, teeth and anything else he could get his hands on.
This was his life, his body and he wasn’t above fighting as dirty as necessary to gain his freedom. Once he’d managed to grab someone’s balls and yank hard enough to tear them. They didn’t come all the way off, but the guy never once tried to fuck Harper again. Then again, it was possible the guy never had the ability to fuck another living soul. It would have served him right if that was the case.
There was a prick in his arm as the shouting intensified. Growls of warning rocked the room but seconds later the blessed reprieve of darkness once more enveloped him. Maybe this time the Gods would listen to him and let him die. Please.
****
“Please, let me die,” Harper whispered seconds before the drug Nole gave him took effect and he passed out.
Kirill’s soul cried out when he heard his mate’s plea. A sob Kirill hadn’t even known he was holding in broke free. How was he supposed to help his mate when Harper recoiled at his touch?
They were mates. His touch should have helped. At the very least it should have put Harper more at ease.
Torn between wanting to shift and run for hours while he figured out what he was supposed to do and not able to leave his mate unprotected, Kirill stood there staring at Harper. Every fiber in his body wished like hell he could have protected Harper from what had happened to him.
It was his fault this happened. If he would have searched for his mate instead of constantly running from whatever threat was chasing them, he could have kept Harper safe.
“I know what you’re thinking and it’s not true,” Lucca said from next to Kirill. “You didn’t even know Harper existed. There was no way you could have known he was in danger.”
