by R. J. Blain
“Don’t worry, if he tries something stupid, I’ll rearrange his face for him,” I promised, relaxing in my seat, though I did angle myself so I could keep an eye on my side mirror to watch him. “If he makes you uncomfortable, just find a good place to pull over so he can pass you. All you need to worry about is keeping the car on the road.”
“Okay.” Nicolina took another long look at the mirror. “I just don’t like when people do that.”
“I don’t like it either,” I confessed. “It’s a problem with driving a Porsche. People want to find out if their shitty SUV has more under the hood.”
For a Fenerec like me, it was a game. I liked it, and I played it well. Sometimes, I’d even rise to the challenge, if I thought the other car might provide me with some sport. Normally, I just annoyed them into passing me, which was far more satisfying.
“This is stupid,” my mate complained, and once again, her gaze fixed on the rear view mirror. “Fucking asshole.”
“Want me to drive for a bit?” I asked, checking the time. Nicolina had made it three hours, which was two and a half hours longer than I thought she would last when she had first gotten behind the wheel of my car.
Drawing several deep breaths, my mate clenched her teeth, exhaled gustily, and nodded. “Okay. Yeah. Please.”
That Nicolina was saying please to me was enough to upset both me and my wolf. I frowned, giving the SUV behind us another long look. Like its tinted windows, it was dark. The lack of a front license plate annoyed me, since I couldn’t reference its tags.
“I’d say pull over, but wait until we have a real shoulder,” I directed, making certain to keep my tone good-humored as I got a view of the ravine to my right. At least we were heading down the hills instead of up; we’d either hit a valley, a town, or a rest area soon, any of which would serve our purpose.
Nicolina breathed a sigh of relief when we reached the bottom and the guardrail made way for a gentle slope leading into the trees.
When the SUV bumped my Porsche in the rear on the driver’s side, the slick roads conspired with the soft gravel to spin the car. Unlike the SUV, which was designed for heavier work, my car was built for speed and agility. While I had indulged in extra safety features, including custom reinforcement of the car’s frame, it didn’t add the weight necessary to withstand a larger, heavier vehicle.
Nicolina did the absolute worst thing she could have. She reflexively stomped on the brake, and before I could stop her, she turned the wheel.
Instead of slowing or turning aside, the SUV rammed my Porsche again and shunted us off the road. My head cracked into the window.
With help from the SUV, my car rolled. The last thing I heard was my mate’s scream.
My mate was cursed.
In a stunned daze, I latched onto the thought of Nicolina and her affinity with trouble. My wolf was as disoriented as I was, which wasn’t helping me escape the haze of semi-consciousness. It took me several long moments to realize that my head was pounding. It took longer still to remember why.
The SUV that had so worried Nicolina had rammed us off the road.
But why? While the driver had been tailgating us, he’d kept enough distance to be an annoyance, not a threat. Maybe if I had been driving, I could have prevented my Porsche from flipping.
As my memories fell into place, my worry for my mate intensified. I was a Fenerec; we were tough. It’d take a lot more than a car crash to kill me.
Normal human women were fragile. I’d equipped my Porsche for the worst-case scenario for my brother’s sake, but he was a lot bigger than my Nicolina. She’d also been in the driver’s seat, which had been customized for me, not for her slimmer, lighter build.
Somewhere nearby, my mate squeaked.
She had two levels of fright. The first, which never failed to frighten me in turn, was her shrill scream. Her second was her mouse-like squeak, a sound she made when startled. The scent of her fear was the first thing I registered; it was potent and did a far better job of anchoring me to consciousness than the drumming in my skull.
My mate needed me, and I couldn’t move. My body, still stunned from the impact, refused to obey me or my wolf.
“Out of the car,” a male’s voice demanded, low and gravelly. I heard a click.
The sound chilled me. Every gun made a different noise when fired, but older pistols, including the iconic Colt, were distinctive in the way they cocked. Even my wolf-sensitive ears couldn’t tell the type of gun.
It didn’t matter. Someone had a weapon near my mate, and that was all I needed to know. It didn’t matter if it was packing regular rounds or silver; either could kill her.
“That’s right. Easy does it, sweetheart. Just stand there like a good girl and keep quiet.” There was something familiar about the man’s voice, but I couldn’t find the association. He wasn’t part of my pack.
My phone rang. I meant to growl at the sound, but it was hard enough to breathe, let alone voice my anger.
“Here’s how this is going to work, little lady. You’re going to answer it. You’re going to tell whoever it is that Richard’s checking a tire. You’re going to tell them everything is fine. An animal ran out in front of his Porsche, he bumped something, and is changing out a flat. Understood?”
The scent of my mate’s fear faded to rage, sharp in my nose. She didn’t speak. I felt someone dig into my pocket for my phone.
“I could shoot him instead,” the man offered.
“Fine,” she hissed.
“Act natural, and neither one of you will get hurt.”
My mate drew in a breath, muttered a curse, and answered my phone right before it went to voice mail. “Hey, Dad.”
While I heard Desmond speaking, I couldn’t make out the words through the ringing in my ears.
“No, Dad. It’s fine. Richard was driving and an animal jumped out in front of the car. He thinks he got a flat avoiding the stupid thing. He’s checking it.”
Once again, Desmond spoke, and when Nicolina laughed, the sound was forced. “Better not, Dad. He’s pretty pissed. That’s why I’m in the car and he isn’t.”
The stench of her lies infuriated me, as did her distress.
“Sure. Love you, Daddy.”
While I could believe Nicolina talking to her father like that when drunk, as she had last night, if Desmond didn’t figure out something was wrong from her speaking such an affectionate phrase when sober, nothing would.
My mate was frightened, and there was nothing I could do about it.
“Good girl. You’re smart.”
“What do you want?”
“Not you, that’s for certain, sweetheart. You’re just an added bonus. Away from the car, nice and easy.”
Nicolina squeaked again. “Let go!”
Someone else spoke, too soft for me to understand. The crack of a blow silenced my mate’s protests.
My wolf wanted blood and so did I, but while I was aware of what was going on around me, I was somehow disconnected from my body. A pair of hands patted me down before grabbing me under the arms and pulling. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t force my eyes open.
While I wasn’t all that tall or broad, I was heavier than most men my size. It was part of being a Fenerec; I had more muscle and denser bones. I caught a hint of cinnamon scent as I was picked up. The motion triggered waves of vertigo and nausea as agony rippled from my neck to my extremities.
I was dumped on a hard surface, my head bouncing as I sprawled on my back.
“In you go, sweetheart,” the man said.
My mate landed on me, her small hands slapping my shoulders. Her knee dug into my stomach.
The warmth of her breath washed over my ear. “Richard?”
“Don’t you worry about him. He’ll heal fast enough. That’s more than I can say for you. Normal girls have no business running with our kind. Your parents should have gotten rid of you at birth or made you one of us.”
The condescending arrogance of the m
an’s words stoked my anger. My rage dissolved into breathless fear as I recognized who was speaking. A single inhale confirmed my suspicions.
Where my father was, my mother wasn’t far behind.
“You’re that bitch Richard bit at my house!” Nicolina blurted.
“I’m his mother. Shut your mouth, or I’ll shut it for you,” my mother snarled, and at a bang against the side of the SUV, my mate squeaked. “You’re only alive because you’re worth good money. Don’t make me change my mind. The car’s totaled. I got his wallet. The rest’ll burn. It’s time to go.”
By the time I finally managed to exert enough control over my body to open my eyes, my mate had crammed herself in the gap between the SUV’s back door and the seat. My head was nestled on her lap, and she had one arm over my chest, her fingers clutching at my shirt.
Our eyes met. Hers widened, and she tightened her grip on me. “Richard?”
I grunted an affirmative.
My father was in the front passenger seat, and he twisted around to stare at me. As I had when I was little, I immediately lowered my gaze and tensed, shivering in the expectation of his wrath—or worse, my mother’s attention.
“Keep his head still, bitch,” my father ordered. “Good afternoon, Richard. It’s good of you to join us. It’s been a while.”
There were a lot of things I wanted to say, but I couldn’t force a single word out. I went cold from the fear of them turning on my mate and doing something to her before I had a chance to develop a mating bond between us.
Until she was tied to me, safe and secure, my parents would view her as they viewed all Normals, Alex included. She’d be prey, something to use and discard when they bored of her.
My father’s gaze didn’t shift from me, demanding an answer.
I bared my teeth, and while I couldn’t bring myself to look up at him, I hissed, “Hasn’t been long enough.”
“Good,” my father replied, sounding pleased. “You have some fight in you after all. Not quite the mewling pup you were when you stole what was ours and made your escape. Don’t think you’re going to get lucky and get away from us a second time, little one, not if you want your bitch there to go home in one piece. Maybe if you behave we’ll let you keep her.”
My father picked up something from his lap, and I went cold at the sight of the pistol. Like the one Nicolina had shot Luke with, it was a relic from the days of the Wild West, when gun duels and riding the range had been a way of life.
Those days had been long before I was born, but my parents had lived through them—and desired them. It reflected in the way my father carried himself and the denim button-up shirt with a cord tie he wore. I bet he was wearing cowboy boots to match.
Nicolina was trembling, but it wasn’t from fear. The sharpness of her scent and blaze in her eyes made my wolf proud, but it worried me.
If she defied my parents, she’d be hurt, if they didn’t kill her outright.
“Nicolina,” I whispered.
“Don’t reward him for his behavior,” my mother snapped. “He dared to bite me?”
“It’s the mating season,” my father said, his tone soothing. “There were at least two unmated bitches near him. I bet those mated males thought themselves superior, containing and controlling him instead of encouraging him to take one of them for his own. Of course he was ready to bite someone. They were denying his right to take what he is owed as a True-born and our puppy.”
“He bit me.”
While my recollection of having sank my teeth into my mother’s arm was dim, I regretted not having bitten her harder.
“It’s already healed, love, without even a scar to show for it. Have you taken a good look at this little bitch he was taking for a ride? He must have been planning to mate her, if he was enticing her by permitting her to drive what is his. She’ll make beautiful puppies for him. Her pedigree is superior, you must admit. It could be our welcome home gift for him. She’s young, looks healthy.” My father shifted his gaze from me to admire my mate. “Her sire’s a True-born.”
I growled, low and in warning.
“I’ll consider it once we’ve had a chance to sever him from that pack that stole him from us,” my mother announced.
“You wouldn’t,” my mate gasped.
“Oh, you better believe I will, little bitch. He’s ours. They stole him from us, and we’ll take back what rightfully belongs to us. You’ll cooperate, or my mate will shoot you and throw you into a ravine to rot. Think it through,” my mother replied. The SUV’s engine rumbled as she increased her speed. “We don’t need your sire’s money. We’re old. We’ve hunted well. We still hunt well. We’ve been waiting for this chance too long to have it ruined by some little bitch my puppy fancies. Make yourself useful, or be discarded.”
My wolf wanted to curl in a corner and whimper, but the thought of my parents touching my mate riled me, stirred my ire, and forced a snarl out of me. “If you hurt her, I’ll rip you both to pieces.”
“That’s entirely up to you, Richard. You don’t move faster than a bullet. You know it, I know it. If you want her alive and well, then you’ll do as you’re told.” My father thumbed the pistol’s hammer, though he didn’t cock it. “Until your neck heals, little puppy, you’re incapable of protecting yourself, let alone her. Give up, Richard. You’ve lost. It’s time for you to accept it. I’m being generous. You’ll be my Second, and once again be one with the pack you belong to—have belonged to since you were a puppy.”
I wasn’t anyone’s Second. I’d never be his, and I trembled at the one bit of truth he had hurt me with. He was right. Until my neck healed, until I could move without agony rippling through me, I couldn’t guard my mate.
Unless I did something and quick, it was entirely possible they could, working together, sever my ties with my pack. Blood called to blood, and no matter how much I wanted to deny it, I was their son. I had been born into their pack.
It was entirely possible when they broke the ties binding me to my wolves, I’d go mad and wild from the pain, even if they did manage to subjugate me. I still hurt from Luke’s death; his loss was a bone-deep ache.
If I lost all of my wolves at once, my mate would be among the first I killed.
Of all the injuries Fenerec could survive, ones to the neck were the worst. Broken bones healed, and even damaged organs mended with time. It hurt, but they were a tolerable pain.
As the bones in my neck knit, the nerves in my throat woke and tormented me. Most of it was scorching heat blazing down my spine and clawing away at the inside of my skull. I didn’t scream because my wolf remembered too well what happened if I made noise in my parents' presence. His fear smothered me and kept me quiet.
He wanted to submit to them, but I couldn’t let him. If I surrendered, it’d make it easier for my parents to do as they threatened. My mate was horrified enough; her crisp lilac and cinnamon scent soured to a stomach-churning, rank odor. Beneath her fear was the acrid bite of her anger.
If I made it easy for them to sever me from my wolves, my pack, and my brother, my mate would learn firsthand what sort of monster I could become—the monster I had become in my efforts to save my brother from Yellowknife’s rutting, wild wolves. I shivered.
My mate brushed my sweat-soaked hair away from my brow, pressing the back of her hand to my skin. She was cool, and her touch soothed a little of my pain. “He’s so fevered,” she whispered.
Her caress and the softness of her tone tormented me in other ways. Winter’s sneaking influence stoked my desire for her touch.
“To be expected, little bitch,” my father replied. As though sensing he had won the battle, his tone gentled. “His neck was broken. It’ll heal, so don’t you worry yourself, sweetheart. He’ll be in his prime soon enough for you. Give him a few days. When we den this evening, we’ll force the change on him a few times. It will help. You will help, and touch him as only his mate can.”
Nicolina stiffened beneath me, but she kept quiet. The acr
id scent of her fury turned bitter. Whether it was from her resentment or from how infuriated she was, I wasn’t certain. Moving hurt, but I forced myself to reach up and touch her arm, which rested across my chest. The effort left me panting. She was soft and smooth, and despite my wariness of my parents' presence, my attention focused entirely on her.
So long as I kept between her and my parents, I could guard what was mine.
Then my worries crept back in, smothering my enjoyment of being so close to my mate.
I’d only be able to protect her for so long.
Once my mother exerted her influence over me and forced me to assume the shape of my wolf, I’d be forced to submit to her will. It was her favorite punishment. At her command, I would change, helpless to defy her. In the few times I had tried, my father had been eager to offer his aid. They had always watched, savoring when I had cried out from the pain of it.
That was how they had taught me to be silent like a proper wolf. Over and over they forced the change, until I had learned to swallow back my screams, no matter how much the shifting and breaking of my bones hurt as I transitioned from human to wolf and back again.
My wolf wanted to retreat and hide. He feared our past, when we had been a puppy under their rule. I couldn’t spare him from it.
I remembered it too well myself.
My mate leaned over me, and before I realized what she was doing, she pressed her lips to my forehead. “Shh, Richard.”
It was then I realized I was whining, echoing my wolf’s fear.
“That’s good, little bitch,” my mother cooed. “Keep him quiet.”
With her so close and breathing against my skin, my mate’s rage filled my nose. She trailed her fingers down my throat to my shoulder, and I shivered at her touch. Her fingers massaged my neck, and when she found a sensitive part, I arched, sucking in a breath.
Persistent and unfazed by my reaction, she briskly rubbed the spot she had discovered. I exposed my throat to her, my every muscle going limp as a pleasant tingling crept down my spine to my fingers and toes. My heart raced, but the rest of me relaxed, my pained gasps settling to slower, deeper breaths.
