Siofra's Song: Book 1 The Broadus Supernatural Society Series

by Hewitt, Theresa Marguerite

  Her left eye won’t open, so she peers around her into an unfamiliar room with her right. Siofra is lying on a bare mattress, which is sitting on a hay covered floor. In front of her is a loft, half-filled with old, decaying furniture. Trying to roll over again, clanging and jingling meets her ears. Holding her arms up to her face she sees that her wrists are manacled together, and bloody. The ring that Conall had given her is missing from her left hand.

  “Oh God…,” she slurs, trying to stand. She starts to panic as she wobbles. Taking a few steps, she hears the unmistakable sound of metal dragging on wood. The pain in her head is almost blinding as she leans her head to the side; seeing that her left foot it chained to a stabilizing beam about twenty feet from her. “Oh God,” she repeats, desperation filling her cry.

  Defeat. Failure. Hopelessness.

  All of those fill her to the point of overflowing, and she collapses to the wooden planks. Her heartbeat is in her ears as she releases a moan, and then a scream. “Help!” She lets the word draw out, dragging the ‘p’ till her throat is hoarse and she’s out of breath.

  Dragging herself back to the mattress, she grips the side, pulling herself back on top of it. Tears are flowing down her cheeks and all she can think about is Conall and Roan. ‘Please let them be okay, please, please.’

  Her tears turn into wracking sobs and she can’t help but scream again. “Help me! Please someone! Help!” She lets the words roll from her throat, giving her the feeling that there is acid being forced down it; there is a burning and throbbing radiating throughout her chest as well.

  “No one can hear you, Bitch,” the husky voice snaps her out of her crying. Through the tears she can see a figure holding a gas lantern off to her left, at the top of some stairs. Moving slowly, it approaches and slowly comes into focus.

  “Kevin?” she chokes. “What? How?” Struggling to sit up, she wipes her face with her chained palms, feeling the ache from her raw skin where the metal has worn at her tender flesh. Wincing as she passes over her left eye, she thinks, ‘Should’ve healed by now.’

  “Ah yes, in the flesh, Fry,” the voice growls as the figure crouches near the side of the mattress, holding the lantern in front of his face towards her, so she can see his face.

  A jagged white scar graces his left cheekbone; where she had witnessed him take a vicious slash that fateful day in Buffalo. His grey eyes are beginning to rim with red, bringing his wolf to the surface.

  ‘Not good,’ she thinks, ‘I’m no match for him like this.’ His normally well kept, dark auburn hair, is shaggy and he has a week old beard straggling along his jaw and neck.

  Sitting down on the edge of the mattress, grasping the chain in between her wrists, Kevin pulls her towards him. “You’re prolly wondering why you haven’t healed yet? Well, blame it on the silver, my dear.”

  Smirking, he chuckles to himself. Like many wolves, Siofra is allergic to silver, and when ingested, it can be fatal. ‘Liquefied silver,’ she thinks to herself, ‘prolly Silver Nitrate, that’s what I smelled on the towel he gagged me with, that fucker!’

  Yanking on the chain, and then grabbing her by the back of her neck, he pulls her nose to nose with him. She tries to hit him, but he has a vice grip on the chain. Every yank Siofra attempts only digs the cuffs further into her wrists, causing a burning pain in her hands. She can’t get her feet under her to move away because of her chained leg. As her last resort, she opens her mouth and latches down on his bottom lip; biting hard enough to taste blood.

  Kevin shoves her away, swearing. “You fucking bitch!” He shouts, setting the lantern down on the floor beside the mattress. He pulls her towards him again, slamming her on her back and straddling her torso. “You’ll pay for that.”

  Forcing her hands above her head with one of his, he latches his mouth onto hers. Clamping her lips tight, she fights his tongue, moving her head side to side. Releasing her mouth, he grins down at her, his eyes glowing red. Using his free hand he pulls at her shirt, popping all the buttons off and exposing her tank top underneath. Running his rough, cold hands underneath the tank, Siofra screams, struggling to move from under his weight.

  Kevin’s hand clasps tight around her right breast making Siofra scream, the sound echoing off the cold, faded walls. His fingers dig into her flesh and he leans down, whispering, “Now I’ll see what made my brother so crazy about you.”

  Sitting up, his hand still keeping both of hers above her head, he retrieves a knife from his pocket. Flicking it open he starts to cut away her tank and bra. She never stops screaming, calling out for help.

  The cold steel bites at her bare flesh and Siofra screams louder, hoping someone, anyone, will come to her aid. “Please, someone help me!!!” The knife nicks her skin all the way up her torso, and she bites her lip to keep from crying out in pain again. Void of her tank and bra, Kevin tosses the knife aside and she hears it clank against the wooden floor boards.

  “No,” she screams at him, thrashing her hips trying to throw him off of her and he leans back, bringing his fist across her left cheek. Crunching of bone on bone resounds in her head and a gush of blood fills Siofra’s mouth, as stars fill her sight. Another punch, this one to her ribs, takes the breath from her lungs and she can’t help but choke air back in, tears streaming down onto her cheeks.

  “Shut up bitch,” he bites her bottom lip and she slurs out a cry; but all that comes out is a trickle of blood, running down her chin. Laughing, he begins biting down her neck and chest to her left breast, latching his teeth around it. Bringing her right knee up with all her strength, she plants it in his upper thigh just below his groin, making him grunt and bite down a little harder.

  Releasing his hold on her breast, he slaps her across the right side of her face, making more blood spill from her mouth. Grasping her chin in his hand and squeezing, he stares right into her eyes. “I’m gonna sit up. You be a good girl now and don’t move, or you’ll regret it.”

  Letting go of her chained hand and standing just at the end of the mattress, Kevin starts to undo his belt; his grey eyes never leaving her forcibly bared chest. She watches him and he licks his lips, making her stomach turn. Siofra brings her hands down to cover her nakedness, scooting as far as her chained leg will let her until her back meets the cold, wooden wall.

  “Kevin….please, stop,” she gets out over the tears. “Please. Don’t do this.” Wrapping her arms tighter around herself, she dares to look back into his eyes.

  “You deserve this bitch. After how you made Kyle feel, whoring around this Pack like you are,” he growls, pushing his pants and boxers down and freeing his feet of them. Siofra tries to avert her eyes away from his engorged cock, and she closes her eyes tight, trying not to think of the immediate danger. She can feel the mattress bow as he crawls towards her.

  “You’ll lay there and take it, ‘cuz you deserve it. You slutty little cunt,” he says, grasping her ankle and pulling her to him as she tries to kick him. His hand grasps the chain holding her arms and yanks it above her head once more as his other tugs at her jeans.

  “Kevin, stop!” Siofra spins her head toward the same stairway where her attacker originated from and sees Kyle, standing in the shadow of his own lantern with blankets over his arm; his eyes glowing the same red as his brother’s. “Get. Away. From. Her.”

  The vibrating growl is followed by a blur of movement, bodies flying to the floor along with curses and punches being thrown. The mass of flesh pauses only for a second, long enough for her to see Kyle on-top of his brother, holding Kevin’s arms to his sides. Growling and jaws snapping replace the words. Standing, Kyle kicks his brother in the ribs.

  “Get downstairs before I kill you,” he issues the order pointing to the stairs. Kevin follows the command, picking up his discarded clothing and winking at Siofra.

  “This ain’t over, bitch,” he grins, lopping down the stairs.

  Returning to the top of the stairs, Kyle gathers his dropped supplies and comes to kneel next to Siofra o
n the mattress. He reaches his hand out to her, but she shies away. She’s shivering, both from fear and the cold, and she doesn’t want this lying piece of shit to touch her.

  “Please, don’t do that,” he says softly, running his fingers along her forearm with a tender touch. “Here take these,” he hands her a new shirt, a flannel button down, and smiles at her like he always used to when they were teens. “You’ll feel better when you’re covered.”

  “I’ll feel better when you let me go and leave me alone,” Siofra shouts right in his face, her nose only a whisper away from his but he doesn’t flinch. Shedding the last of the remnants of her shirt, she pushes her chained hand towards him. “You have to unlock me so I can put this on.”

  Raising his eyebrow, Kyle states, “As long as you don’t run.” Reaching in his pocket, he pulls out a key, dangling it in front of her face. She lifts her left leg, letting the chain jangle, and flips him off. “Cute, real cute.”

  Unlocking one of the manacles at a time, she can feel him watching her intently. She slips the flannel shirt on, buttoning it all the way up to her collar bone. He slips the second cuff back around her wrist, and then slips his hand to her neck, running his fingers over the four white marks left there by Conall’s bite. She leans away from him, shooting daggers at him as her wolf growls.

  “He marked you?” he whispers; all of the red gone from his eyes.

  Siofra stares into those familiar grey pools, searching them for the man she thought she knew. His auburn hair is identical to Roan’s, and that scar above his left eye; left there by Siofra swinging a softball bat willy-nilly one summer, almost makes a smile cross her lips.

  “What does it matter to you?” she scoffs, turning her eyes away from him. “You have me chained up in a cold barn. While our son is out there, missing his mother.” She can feel her eyes glowing with anger just at the mention of Roan. She needs to get back to her son, to make sure these bastards haven’t done anything to him.

  “It matters, ‘cuz I love you, Fry,” he grasps her chin, turning her face towards him, “I came back to take you both with us. We can live on our own, be a family.” Kyle runs his palms and fingers across her cheeks, down her jaw, and around her neck; interlacing his fingers in the back of her hair. Placing his lips on her forehead, he mumbles, “I just want us to be a happy family, together.”

  Releasing a long sigh, Kyle continues, “I know you were upset by the way I left you, but I just had to get out. I’m not made to be under someone’s thumb. I need to be the one in control.”

  Using her telepathy after keeping it under check for the last couple of weeks, Siofra sends out “Are you delusional? How do you think I’ll ever be happy with you? I would never let you around my son. What happened to you?” Pulling her head back away from him, she glares at him.

  A growl rips through his chest, his eyes returning to red and he digs his fingers into the flesh on the back of her neck. Siofra tries to pry him away from her, but these damn chains. “You will be happy with me. We will be a family. We are meant for each other, Fry. Until you realize that, you’ll stay up here, in the dark.”

  Pressing his mouth to hers, crushing her lips while running his tongue along them, he growls once more and then releases his hold, turning back towards the stairs. Taking his lantern, he starts down the flight, pausing three from the top and locking his eyes on hers.

  “It’s either you be happy, or,” he pauses dropping his gaze, “you die.” His footsteps echo and fall away and Siofra is left to the darkness. Pulling her knees to her chest, she rests her chin on top trying to keep herself warm in spite of the chill running through her veins.

  Sending her powers out, hoping they’ll find their mark, she concentrates on a vision of Conall standing before her. “Conall, I’m in an old barn. Please hurry. I’ll hold on as long as I can. I love you.” Praying he hears, Siofra succumbs to her tears and falls on her side in the fetal position.

  As long as Roan is safe, I’m okay with my fate. Just keep him safe, please God; keep my baby safe.

  ~~~~~~~~

  “Conall? Hey, are you okay man?” Jace vigorously shakes his friend’s arm. Surrounded by Pack members, Siofra’s brother, Marcus, and his team, and Were-mountain lion Leon Sullivan; Conall had abruptly fallen silent in the middle of saying something, moving his eyes to stare out into the empty yard beyond the glass sliding door.

  “Wha…What?” Conall shakes his head, focusing on his friend’s concerned face. It has been two days since her kidnapping, and his nerves are fraying. He hasn’t slept much, he hasn’t eaten much. Most of the night he sits in Roan’s room, watching him sleep and praying that she’ll come walking out of the wood line in back of the trailer; a big smile on her beautiful lips. “What did you say?”

  “You zoned out there, bro. You didn’t finish what you were saying.” Jason comes to his brother’s side, kneeling next to Conall’s chair.

  “I heard her,” he says, looking around the room into the faces of his family and closest friends. “She said she’s in a barn. I could feel that she’s cold…. hurt……scared. ” Conall looks back out to the wood line. Reaching in his pocket, he pulls out the ring that only a few weeks before, he had put on Siofra’s finger. It was retrieved from the dressing room she had been taken from.

  “That means she’s still alive, that’s good news.” Marcus looks around the group and then comes to stand next to Conall’s chair facing the glass door. “Siofra has a gift, Connie, but she’s awful careful of letting people know about it.” He puts his hand on Conall’s shoulder, peering down at him. “She can read and project thoughts.”

  Furrowing his brow, Conall takes in his future brother-in-law’s sincere composure, he isn’t trying to lighten the mood with jokes. “She’s telepathic?” he questions, turning to look at him.

  “Yeah, but only when she concentrates. She can turn it on and off pretty good now. When she was younger she had no control.” Squatting down to be more eye level with the seated Conall, Marcus says, “She reached out to you. That’s good. It’s even more evidence leaning towards them being at the old McLeod place.”

  “Than we ne’ ta gaw after the cher too-night, bon zanmi!” Leon Sullivan chimes in, his Cajun drawl thick and hovering in the room like a cloud. It takes a minute for some of them to get what he’s saying, but as he looks around the room, seeing a few of them nod, the mountain lion continues. “Az we say in taa bayou, Si ou vle goumen, se kont ou ap pran! If itz a fight tay wantin, theyz get one.”

  Agreeing growls and yips come out in chorus through the kitchen of the Alpha house. Conall stands from his chair, looking over his shoulder to the living room, where he can hear the faint laughter and squeals from the children. Looking to his father, who’s sitting at the table, Conall seeks approval.

  “Take twenty of the men, my son.” Clyde Johnson stands, gliding over to his second youngest and placing a hand on his shoulder. “I will stay here, with the rest of the men, and protect the children.” Smiling, trying to reassure his son, he jokes, “Plus your mother is here, and she’ll never let anything happen to anyone.”

  Nodding to his father and then to Marcus, who whips out his cell to contact his men scouting the woods, he calls his Pack to action. “Listen up, men! We’re gonna find that barn and rip those bastards limb from limb! ARE YOU WITH ME?”

  “YES!” The answer is shouted back, followed by howls. Swinging the glass door open, Conall leads his group out into the yard, towards the woods. His blood is pounding through his veins, his heartbeat loud in his ears, almost drowning out everything.

  He needs his mate back. He needs his Siofra, his love. His bones start to shift, pulsing with his wolf’s magic as the anger rolls through him.

  “Fan out!” Marcus snaps. “Sebastian, go ahead of the group, they won’t be able to scent you.” The New Orleans vampire nods, and flies, yes, flies ahead of the Pack, disappearing into the darkness. The wonder of the sight catches Conall’s wolf’s attention for a split second, then th
e hurt sets in again and he howls to the moon.

  “Let’s go get your woman back, friend,” Jace slaps Conall on the back and they take off into the night. Please let us get there in time, Conall thinks, please let her be alive.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN:

  “If I die young, bury me in satin

  Lay me down on a, bed of roses

  Sink me in the river, at dawn

  Send me away with the words of love song

  Uh oh, Uh oh”

  Siofra sings the lyrics to The Band Perry’s song, while pacing the floor of her prison. It seems like it has been weeks since she was brought here, and all she knows right now is that it is night, and she has the ratty blankets wrapped around her shoulders as she paces. Scuffing her worn and wet boots into the chipping floor boards, she kicks an old, half flat basketball across the floor, causing it to bounce off the far wall and come back to her.

  Her left eye is more swollen and bruised, due to the Bokan brothers Pack mate, Ollie; commonly referred to as “Skinner”. How he got that nickname, she never wants to know. The broad, bulky, skin-head wolf stomped his way up the stairs and introduced his fists to Siofra’s face and body more than once. She had kicked and screamed with all her power each time, but he is a towering hulk of a man, overpowering her even as her wolf tries to spring to life.

  After what seems like hours, Skinner is beckoned away from his punching bag by the voice of a woman, calling to him from down the stairs. Fry screamed after him, taunting him to come and finish the job, but all she hears is silence. Siofra recognized that female voice, but laid on the mattress where Skinner had left her bleeding, trying to place the voice to a name. When she matches it, she shivers, feeling as if her brain is rattling.

  Since the moment she had pinned Jinnie Harris as the voice from below, she has been pacing and singing, purposely trying to annoy her captors. See, figuring out that a member of her Pack is in on her kidnapping and the potential kidnapping of her infant son, doesn’t sit well with Siofra.