by R. J. Blain
The flick of his nail on my throat spread heat through me. “Richard,” I gasped, reaching for him. He captured both of my wrists in one of his hands.
“Oh, no you don’t. You tricked me this morning, but not this time.” He tortured me with the tip of his finger, caressing my throat with a featherlight touch. “I think I should get a turn to do whatever I please with you. I should make you wait so I can court you properly. Maybe I’ll take you to my desk, sit you on my lap while I work, and tease you until you beg.”
I flushed, straining to pull my hands free, but he held on tighter. It didn’t hurt, but he squeezed, the pressure of his fingers warning me he wouldn’t let go, not without a fight. “Richard!”
Working his free arm under me, he lifted me up until he could nibble on my throat, kissing his way to my jaw. “I gave you a chance to run,” he murmured before nipping my neck hard enough I gasped.
Pleasuring warmth and tingles spread from his teeth, stealing my breath.
“I wanted the jacuzzi,” I complained, kicking my feet in protest.
In truth, all I really wanted was for him to keep doing what he was doing.
“The jacuzzi, eh? I could use a nice soak. My neck being so terribly injured as it is.” Richard nipped me again, and I went limp in his hold, gasping as the tingling sensation intensified. “You like that, don’t you? And you called me shameless. If you want the jacuzzi, then I suppose I shall have to give in to your demands. When I’m finished with you, you’ll never look at anyone else ever again. You’re mine, Miss Desmond, and I don’t intend on sharing you with anyone.”
~~*~~
With Richard around, I’d never need to take another dose of sleeping medication ever again. I wiggled my toes, savoring the texture of the plush blanket. It would be the first thing I stole when I was forced back to Seattle. Richard would be the second, and only because I planned to use the blanket when I kidnapped him. I’d come back for the pool, the hot tub, and the television another time.
Maybe there was something to Richard’s worries about our scents, because something about the cinnamon spice of the blanket reminded me of him. I snuggled into it, breathing deeply.
I had no idea when he had become so precious to me. If I had to, I would invent reasons for him to come to Stanford, and I would ensure my business courses required his help whenever possible. I’d find ways we’d be forced together.
When my family was around, I’d show them how much I loved hating him. When they weren’t, I’d find plenty of other ways to fill the time, keeping his attention fully fixated on me.
Emerging from my nest of blankets and pillows, I grumbled at the lack of light, fumbling for the nightstand. The lamp thwarted me for several minutes while I figured out how to turn the damned thing on. When Richard had worked his magic on me, we had been in his bedroom.
I recognized the guest room as the one closest to Richard’s bedroom. Stifling a yawn, I untangled myself from the blanket. A note waited for me with a set of four codes and what they were for, which I memorized before slipping it under the lamp for later reference.
Richard had left his bathrobe draped over the room’s armchair. While I had no memory of putting anything on, I was wearing one of his flannel shirts, which had fallen victim to my rampage with his cologne. Snagging the robe, I wrapped up in it and staggered in the direction of the kitchen. According to the clock, it was six, but I couldn’t tell if it was in the morning or evening.
Searching through the cabinets, I found a box of tea, plunked it on the counter, and went on a scavenger hunt for a kettle. I found it hidden away behind his pots and pans gathering dust. “Coffee drinkers,” I muttered, hoping the tea wasn’t stale.
So much dust caked the kettle I gave up on it, hunting down a clean pot instead. The phone rang while I was busy watching for bubbles.
“Desmond,” I answered.
“Finally decided to get up?” Alex asked. “I’ve called four times and no one answered.”
“I haven’t had tea yet, and your kettle’s a piece of shit,” I complained.
“You’re as bad as Richard. I was going to come up if I couldn’t get a hold of you. Anyway, do you want to have dinner with us? Should be around eight.”
“I guess. I’ll go for a swim in my pool first. I have time.”
“Still determined to take the pool with you, eh? You have a code to get to it?”
“I have one for the third level, one for the second level, and two emergency codes,” I replied. “He didn’t tell me what to do with the emergency codes, though. I assume someone is going to let me out of this house eventually, right?”
Alex laughed. “I’m sure Richard will release you when the full moon is over. Don’t feel too bad; I’m not even allowed to have a code to the ground floor for a few days. We’re both hostages. If we want out of the house, we have to use the emergency code. The emergency codes will open any door you need, but if you use it, the entire pack will come, and if you use the wrong code, some police friends will arrive as well. Unless something is really wrong, Richard’ll blow his top if they’re used. If there isn’t a body or about to be one, don’t use it.”
“Understood.”
“I’ll come swimming with you to keep you company if you don’t mind. It’ll give me a chance to escape the shrill screaming of the kids. I’m going to be deaf before this is over, just you wait and see.”
“Sure,” I replied, wondering what information I could get out of Alex regarding his brother. At the very least, I could find out new and interesting ways to yank Richard’s tail. “I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
“Okay, I’ll meet you there. Bring a change of clothes. I’ll let you down to the second floor from the third since you don’t have a code for that staircase.”
I hung up, abandoned my efforts to make tea and checked the fridge. Grabbing a can of soda, I popped it open and searched for my bikini. It took me several minutes to locate it in Richard’s bedroom, tangled in his blankets. Smirking, I draped it over my shoulder and considered his room.
The smell of his cologne still lingered, but if I wanted to make my prank authentic, I had to take it to the next level. Raiding his stash, I reaped a second apocalypse on his clothes with a second scent I liked. To add to the scent-based chaos, I fetched my perfume and repeated the process until Richard’s bedroom reeked like a perfume factory.
I hoped it smelled a lot like him and a little like me, teasing him whenever I wasn’t with him.
After changing into my bikini, I grabbed Richard’s bathrobe, stole one of his plain black t-shirts, and dug through my clothes for a pair of jeans. I aimed to startle Alex by wearing a bikini and a gun. I double checked Richard’s Beretta, chambered a round, and engaged the safety.
With the house locked down, it was unlikely I would need it, but Richard had worried enough to give me the weapon. For that reason alone, I’d keep it close, even while swimming. If Richard was worried, he had a reason for it. If I didn’t want him touching me, he’d be a threat, but I did, so he wasn’t. Other Fenerec were a different story, especially ones like Simon. The thought of Richard’s Third annoyed me into triple checking the gun.
Punching in the code for the pool level, I opened the door and headed down the stairs, making sure it shut behind me before entering the code again at the bottom. Splashing in the main pool room warned me Alex was waiting. I dumped Richard’s bathrobe and my clothes in the girls’ section of the changing and shower room.
Humming to myself, I headed down the hall towards the pool.
Splashing I expected, but the thunks beyond puzzled me. “Alex?” I called.
No answer.
I shoved open the door and batted away the fronds hanging over the walkway. “Alex?”
The splashing continued, and suspecting Alex was a chip off Richard’s block, I crept forward, twisting my holster so the Beretta was behind me so I wouldn’t draw it in reflex. “So help me, Alex, if you jump out at me…”
Instead of
jumping out at me, Alex crashed through the foliage, rolling across the tiles with a dark-clad shape, face obscured with a ski mask. My breath caught in my throat and I hopped back several steps. Gloved hands wrapped around Alex’s throat. Both of them were dripping water and blood all over the floor.
I yanked at the holster, twisting around to get a grip on it so I could pull the Beretta. Without knowing who was attacking Alex or why, all I could do was shoot and hope I wasn’t going to regret it.
I knew if I let Richard’s precious brother die, he would never forgive me. Extending the Beretta, I aimed, all of my attention on the hoodie-covered form. When they rolled away from me and Alex jammed his knee into his assailant’s groin, I fired.
The figure jerked, but kept grappling with Alex. Blood splashed to the floor, and when they flailed, it splattered onto me. My ears rang. Spitting curses I couldn’t hear, I once again took aim. Alex jammed his elbow into the other man’s throat and up against his chin.
I didn’t know who I was about to kill. Steadying my hands, I took the chance Alex gave me, picked my target, and fired again. The dark clothing hid whether or not I hit my mark. I screamed my frustration and took another shot at point blank range.
Like my father had taught me, I kept shooting until my target ceased moving.
I eased my shaking finger away from the trigger. A pool of black and red blood spilled onto the tiles, staining my feet as it flowed towards the drain. Alex lay still beneath the person I had killed. I trembled. Had I hit him?
Had I been too late?
I kept retreating until I hit the wall, my legs collapsing out from under me. “Alex?”
The ringing in my ears from the gunfire deafened me to my own voice.
Alex remained motionless. My panic surged. In order to hear myself at all, I had to scream his name at the top of my lungs. When Alex moved, shoving the body away, I slumped in relief. My eyes burned and tears streaked down my cheeks, my chest throbbing in rhythm with my frantic heartbeat.
He made it to his hands and knees, reaching over to pull off the ski mask.
Simon stared at me with unseeing eyes glazing from death. A whimper burst out of my throat. I had done it again. In my effort to protect someone, I had killed one of Richard’s precious pack. Luke’s body, lying dead and cold in my living room because of me, had been disconcerting enough, but he had been a wolf. Something about having killed an animal to protect my father and Richard had made it easier to accept.
Everything about Simon was human, from his agonized expression to his wide blue eyes. Blood, too dark to be red, had bubbled on his lips to stream down his chin.
Through the ringing in my head, I heard Alex shout something. I shifted my gaze to him. Blood, red like it was supposed to be, oozed from his nose and from a cut across his forehead. While his mouth moved, I couldn’t understand what he was trying to tell me.
What could I say to undo what I had done? There was nothing I could say.
To save Richard’s brother, I had murdered his Third. Calm settled over me, drying my eyes and soothing the ache in my throat. My hands stilled, and I firmed my grip on the Beretta.
For Richard, I had killed once, and I had killed again.
Who would I have to kill next for his sake?
Shattered
Richard’s worst nightmare has come true. No longer able to feel his brother in the pack bonds and fearing for his mate’s life, he relinquishes control of Yellowknife’s pack to Desmond, hoping he’s not too late to save what little of his family he has left.
In order to save his brother, Nicolina has killed once again. This time, however, she has shattered under the strain of taking another’s life. Should Richard make a single mistake, he may be left as the lone survivor—or fall victim to her silver bullets.
~~*~~
Simon was dead and where my brother should have been was a cold, empty void.
My pack howled, and the weight of their anguish and grief drove me to the snow. I hit the ground hard and rolled to a halt, the breath knocked out of me. Frank stood over me, hackles raised and growling, his yellow eyes tracking Desmond and Wendy.
The two wolves waited, still and quiet.
Shaking my head, I lurched up to my paws, shuddering from the turmoil in the pack bonds. Frank stayed at my side, sliding his muzzle under mine in a show of submission, though I felt him bumping my head higher so I displayed dominance to the visiting wolves.
Wolves couldn’t speak, not as humans could, but I drew a deep breath, threw my head back, and howled to call my pack in. My wolf, stunned by the grief and anguish in the pack bonds, lost control to me, and I buffered him—and the rest of my wolves—from the hole where my brother should have been.
If they felt him die—if he wasn’t dead already—I wouldn’t be the only one to run wild. I would bring them down with me. I shuddered. Frank whined, bumping my neck with his muzzle. Twisting out from above him, I rammed my shoulder into his, snapping my teeth. He flattened his ears and snapped back.
As a wolf, I could travel far faster than I could as a human. As a human, however, I could talk to my pack—and to Desmond. My house was only a couple of kilometers away, a distance I could run on two feet as easily as on four. The cold would numb my human skin, and I’d thaw once I was there.
If I didn’t make it, Frank could drag me the rest of the distance or force me to change.
I waited until the cries of my pack drew closer before fighting the moon’s call so I could shift to human form, shuddering at the bitter cold. A Normal human would die in no time standing out in the snow while naked. I leaned on Frank, stealing his warmth. Desmond approached a step, and I waved him in.
Two wolves keeping me from dying of hypothermia was better than one. Wendy watched me, her eyes wide. She trembled. I forced a smile for her, and because I knew her nose was extra sensitive as a wolf in thrall to the moon, I drew long and steadying breaths until I could control my scent, masking my anguish and worry.
If I stayed calm, if I made myself pretend nothing was wrong and my brother’s presence was still with me, I could convince the rest of my pack the worst-case scenario hadn’t happened.
When I ran home, it would be to find corpses. My brother was tough for a Normal, but Simon was a Fenerec.
Alex couldn’t win, not unless he had fired the first—and only—shot. I clenched my hands into fists. Like wolves, they had likely killed each other, and with my pack held by the full moon, I would face it alone—mostly.
Frank I could force to transform despite the power of the moon singing in the clear night sky. With my wolf in shock, I ruled.
My house—my den—should have been a safe haven for my brother and my mate. A shudder rippled through me. I couldn’t sense anything about my mate. How would I feel my mate in the future? Some felt their beloved early, within months. Nicolina and I hadn’t had time to develop a strong bond.
I had been Alpha long enough to know if anything had happened to my mate, if she had been in true danger, I would know. If she died, I would know—my wolf would know. My mate lived.
My brother likely didn’t.
My breath caught in my throat, silencing my whine before I could voice it. I hid my face in Desmond’s fur, the only wolf I could lean on without shame in front of my pack.
Desmond existed for Alphas.
I would leave my pack to their hunt while I tracked down Simon’s corpse and ripped him to pieces for defying me and hurting my brother. I would howl my grief, and when my wolf ran wild, my pack would be safe in Desmond’s care.
But first, I had to transfer Yellowknife’s pack to Desmond and bind Frank to me. My Second would remain mine.
Together, we would face what waited in my house, and with luck, he would keep the wildness at bay.
My wolves gathered, circling me, Desmond, and Wendy.
“Simon attacked Alex,” I announced, letting my dread give my voice the weight of truth and certainty. “I am handing the pack bonds to Desmond. Frank will
remain with me. We will be returning to my house. You will continue the hunt.”
Desmond growled, seizing my wrist in his teeth.
“Do your duty, Desmond. Frank’ll be with me. You will return my pack to me at the conclusion of the full moon.”
While my old friend still growled, he sighed, let me go, and nodded once.
“Please let me lean on Wendy for this,” I requested.
Wendy would let me unravel the bonds from Frank without hurting him, binding him so closely to me he would be held as my thrall, and in turn, I would be his. Wendy would let me transfer the rest of the pack bonds to her mate without the shock or pain of subjugation.
With her help, Desmond and I would meld together, sharing ties with my wolves until we were a drop of water rippling the surface of a still pond. When the waters stilled, I would be gone, leaving them in his care.
Once again, Desmond sighed and nodded his agreement.
“Wendy,” I called, allowing my affection for Desmond’s mate to come out in my voice. She perked her ears, approaching me until the white bursts of her breath washed over my face.
More than her mate did, Wendy smelled of her daughter, and I breathed in the sweetness of her cinnamon. I stroked my hands along her muzzle, digging my aching fingers into the thick fur of her neck. I pressed my lips to her nose, closed my eyes, and focused on the feel of her.
I would never know what it was like to be truly submissive. That had been stolen from me, but she felt like an ocean, a vast depth capable of absorbing anything I threw at her, welcoming me without regret or hesitancy. She didn’t need to prove herself to me or anyone, instead confident in our ability to guard and protect her while she accepted all that we were as wolves forced to live as humans and humans forced to live as wolves. She submitted because she had no desire to stand above anyone.
She wanted to be among them, and I could feel her need for pack as I reached for my bonds. Through her, I felt Desmond, the suffocating force of his wolf already pressuring me despite my submitting to him.
