Draeger Legacy 8

by Jaden Sinclair

  The heat was over. The pain was gone the animal inside back where it belonged. All there was left was just him and Natasha.

  “You okay?” Drake asked, rolling over to his side, touching her back and moving up and down massaging her.

  Natasha turned her head, facing him, eyes closed. “Tired and sore.”

  He smiled. “I’m sorry. Should’ve been gentler with you.”

  She smiled back. “I wasn’t complaining.”

  He learned closer, kissing her on the cheek, “Don’t move an inch.

  I’ll be right back.”

  With a loud groan, Drake got up off the bed and walked into the bathroom. He cleaned up quickly then brought back a cloth for Natasha.

  Not letting her get up he washed her also, and when he was threw, he 87

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  tossed the cloth into the bathroom.

  “Now my next decision is with or without the panties tonight?” He tapped a finger on his lips. Natasha laughed.

  “How about just come to bed.” She yawned. “I’m very tired.”

  “Deal.”

  Drake pulled her into his arms with a sigh. It felt good having her by his side. He had no trouble relaxing or letting his body pull him into a deep peaceful sleep.

  * * * *

  It happened so fast, Drake didn’t have the chance to prepare for it, or defend himself from it. Natasha screamed. Drake opened his eyes, saw arms yanking her from the bed, from his arms, and tossed to the other side of the room. He lunged from the bed and ended up colliding with another shifter in full form. Together they went right through the window and Drake was the one to land on the ground hard. Air was knocked out of his lungs, slowing him down.

  He caught sight of Natasha from the corner of his eyes. She was yelling, legs kicking out, a sheet wrapped around her. Someone carried her away, tossing her into a car. The sight helped to give him the energy he needed to stand up and fight the motherfucker who dared to come into his home and take his mate.

  Drake looked up at the wolf before him. He stood close, breathing hard, snarling down at Drake with drool coming out of the large mouth.

  Pushing back the pain in his side from the fall, Drake slowly stood up, facing the one that challenged him.

  “Let me guess,” Drake said. “Millard sent you.”

  The answer he got was the shifter lunging at him, pushing both huge paw hands right in the middle of his chest. Drake went flying backwards, hitting the ground hard once more.

  The other came for him, and by the time he reached where Drake landed, Drake was transformed and ready. He gave his own snarl, own warning growl, just before lunging after the one who came to kill him.

  Their bodies collided and unfortunately, Drake didn’t get the upper hand. Once more, he was on his back, the other over him. A hard blow landed on his side, knocking the air from him, sending shards of raw pain through his body. Another hit to the same side, and something cracked.

  Drake howled in pain, turned to that side and swung as hard as he could, backhanding the male right off of him. This time standing up was 88

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  a bit difficult, but Drake managed to before the male attacked again. His side felt on fire. Pain he never could’ve imagined gripped him in an iron fist, but he breathed through it, fought to get the upper hand, fought to get free.

  The male was all-animal. Drake never in his life had to fight so hard or block as many hits as he did now. He caught himself several times protecting his side. He knew without a doubt that he had a cracked rib and if he took any more hard hits to the side it was going to turn into a broken one that could puncture his lung.

  Drake managed to land a kick in the male’s gut, giving him enough time to get back up on his feet. He snarled at the male before advancing, swinging a large fist at his face when he was close enough.

  “Drake!”

  The yell from another seemed to distract the male. Drake moved behind him, wrapped one arm around his neck, and the other on top of his head. With a ferocious growl, Drake twisted both arm and hand in opposite directions, snapping the male’s neck.

  James Laswell came running around the corner skidded to a halt at the sight of Drake holding the male by his throat. Standing up, Drake bent over, took hold of the windpipe, and ripped it out.

  “Son of a bitch,” James gasped.

  Breathing hard, Drake slowly changed back into his human form.

  He was bruised; a few cuts on his sides, one deep cut on his leg, and his ribs were killing him. The flesh he still had in his hand dropped to the ground, as did he from exhaustion.

  “Jesus, Drake, what the hell is going on?” James caught him before he slumped to the ground completely.

  “Millard,” Drake managed to get out. He swallowed a few times, took a couple deep breaths. “Millard sent him to kill him. He took Natasha.”

  “Yeah, well I’ve got even worse news for you.” James stood up, pulling Drake with him. “Let’s get you inside. Think that cut on your leg is going to need a few stitches.”

  * * * *

  Natasha was taken back to her father’s home, wrapped in nothing more than the bed sheet she grabbed a hold of when her abductor had yanked her from her bed. She sat in the back of the car between two males, silently, tears falling down her face and her hand gripping the sheet for life. The last place she wanted to be or go to was back there—back to the house. 89

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  They drove fast, cutting the time in half. The sun was coming up by the time they reached the house.

  Day after the full moon all males were resting from exhaustion. In the past, after she came home from being taken to the safe house she was expected to be quiet until her father woke up and came down for lunch or supper.

  The car stopped in front of the house, back door opened and Natasha was forced outside. She held onto the sheet tightly as strong arms pulled her up the stone steps and into the house. She didn’t even get to look around. Her escorts took her right into her father’s office where they shoved her inside and closed the door.

  Philip Millard sat behind his oak desk, a drink in hand, feet up on the top with ankles crossed over. Nothing was said; he just sat there, drinking. Natasha could feel his eyes upon her, but she didn’t have the courage to look up at him.

  “I should be happy to have you back,” he finally said. “But from the looks of you, I’m not.”

  Natasha looked up at him then. Feet went back to the floor, glass hit the top of the desk loudly, and he stood up, his large body towering intimidating. Her mouth dried up. Fear overcame her and it took a lot to stand in place, to not back down or back away from him.

  He came around the desk slowly, almost as if he was stalking her.

  “Have you nothing to say?”

  “He acted according to the laws,” she said to him.

  Philip moved fast. He came at her, the back of his hand connecting hard with her cheek, knocking her down to the floor. She cried out, holding her face, crying.

  “I had great plans for you.” His anger came through in his voice.

  Raw, low, deadly. “You could’ve become the lady of a great house.”

  Natasha looked over her shoulder at him and lost her breath. He pulled his belt from the loops of his slacks, eyes full of anger and hate.

  “Instead you become some damn animal’s whore!” He yelled the words before taking the first swing.

  The sheet did little to protect her from the blows her father delivered with the belt. Natasha cried out with each hit. Screamed with how hard they became. He hit her so many times that she lost count and prayed, sprawled on the floor for it to end. It had been years since her father beat her so. The room echoed with the snapping sound of the belt.

  When it was over she could barely breathe from the crying, screaming in pain. Natasha lay on her stomach, the sheet barely covering 90

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r />   her rears. Over head, her father panted.

  “Get up and clean yourself off.” Phillip was still breathing hard.

  “Wash that damn scent off of her and have her dressed.”

  Another glance over her shoulder and Elli stood next to the closed door. She nodded at her father, who walked past her, out of the office.

  With shaking legs, and arms, Natasha managed to push herself up.

  She pulled the sheet up and whimpered loudly at the pain in her back.

  Elli reached out for her when she made it to the door and Natasha jumped back as much as she could.

  “Don’t touch me,” she told Elli.

  Natasha wasn’t sure if her legs would carry her up the stairs to her room, but they did. By the time she reached the bedroom she felt as if she was going to pass out. With Elli right behind her, the door closed and she slumped to the floor, crying softly.

  “Self pity will get you nowhere,” Elli stated, going into the bathroom, starting the water. “Your father has high expectations for you and you just pissed them all away.”

  “Elli, go away,” Natasha groaned. “I don’t want you here.”

  “Well that’s just too bad.”

  “Get out!” Natasha screamed, picked up a lamp, and threw it at the old woman as hard as she could. It smashed right next to her head, causing Elli to jump and stare at Natasha as if she didn’t know her.

  Surprisingly Elli did leave the room. Natasha waited a few minutes before getting back up on her feet. She dropped the sheet, headed into the bathroom, and turned to look at her backside.

  The belt didn’t cut her skin, but it sure as hell bruised her flesh. Red stripe marks across her ass, some on her legs and a couple on the lower part of her back. A few of those stripes were turning blue, black, and purple. Covering her mouth from the sick feeling that came over her, she turned and saw her face. The cheek her father had slapped was also turning into a bruise.

  “What am I going to do?” she whispered to herself in the mirror.”

  * * * *

  “Yep, you have one cracked,” James stated to Drake after looking over his ribs. “Maybe even broken. You need to go to the damn hospital.” Drake shook his head, holding back the groan that threatened to slip from his lips every time he took a breath.

  “I agree.” Nelly walked into the kitchen, first aid kit in hand. She sat down across from him, opened up the box, and brought out some 91

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  alcohol. She also had a sewing kit in hand.

  “I can’t,” Drake panted out. “I have to get Natasha back before Millard ships her off where I can’t find her.”

  “I can do that,” James said.

  Again, Drake shook his head, “My fight. My mate. Stitch it up Nelly.”

  Nelly glanced up at James before pouring the alcohol right on the deep cut on his leg. First contact and Drake was howling in pain While Nelly worked on his leg, James helped to wrap a bandage around his chest. The only thing that kept Drake from passing out was the thought that he would kill the motherfucker if he hurt Natasha.

  Millard did enough harm to her over the years; starving her in order to keep her figure slim and dainty. Beating her so she would be obedient. It all pissed him off!

  “You never said what the bad news was,” Drake said once James was finished.

  “Yeah, well it’s not good. In fact, it’s a bit worse than Natasha being taken back by her father.” James said.

  “What?” Drake couldn’t keep the irritation or anger from his voice.

  What should’ve been a very enjoyable night and morning was turning into a damn nightmare.

  He saw James nod Nelly away. She finished wrapping a bandage around the stitches, stood and left the kitchen. James took her seat. He appeared nervous, as though he didn’t know how to say whatever it was he needed to say.

  “I was coming over here because I just heard some bad news.”

  “I’m listening.” Drake hissed when he moved his leg. Already it began to hurt like a bitch.

  “Your dad, man,” James sighed. “He’s dead.”

  Drake stilled, looked up quickly at James, and frowned. “What’d you say?”

  “He’s dead Drake.” James licked his lips rubbed the back of his neck and met Drake in the eye. “There’s this guy wholes been causing a lot of trouble. Martin I think the name is and he’s been killing a few of us off; wants to prove to the world that there are werewolves out there.”

  Drake growled and stood up. Pain from his leg and side hit, but it only numbed his senses. “My father went out to see that fucker alone?”

  he frowned. “Why would he do that?”

  “I don’t know,” James shook his head. “But I do know that there has been a few from the Cabinet who’s gone missing and all trails are 92

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  pointing to this Martin guy.”

  Drake turned to the window over the sink. He leaned forward, staring out at the daylight, watching the sun rise. Tears formed behind his eyes, but they didn’t fall. Drake wasn’t the kind of male to cry, but damn if he didn’t want to right now for his father.

  A human killed him. A fucking, no good, low life human killed his father.

  Drake couldn’t still the yell that came forth. He swiped everything off the counters of the sinks and sunk down to the floor, crying for the first time in more years he could recount. He lost his control and sobbed like a baby.

  It felt like a lifetime that he spent on the floor, crying, screaming, and yelling. When he had it all out of his system, he pulled himself back up to his feet, turned on the water, and washed his face.

  “I’m okay,” he said to James.

  “Then get your ass changed and let’s go get your mate.”

  * * * *

  Natasha walked down the stairs, bathed, dressed, legs still shaking and feeling weak. She dressed in a pair of tan slacks, a loose fitting cream colors sweater that hung from one shoulder, pumps on her feet and her long hair brushed down her back, parted in the middle. To hide the bruise on her face she put on some make-up to conceal it. Breakfast was being served in the dining room and her father was already seated at the head of the table reading his paper acting like nothing changed. Natasha took her place in the middle, keeping her mouth shut as usual.

  The moment she was seated servants came from the kitchen with the plates. Her father ate eggs, bacon, toast, and some fruit and drank his coffee and a glass of orange juice every morning. Natasha was allowed only a bowl of fruit and a small glass of juice.

  “You’ve gained some weight I see,” Philip stated, snapping his paper closed, placing it on the table next to him. “You need to lose them before you’re presented to the males that wish to mate with you.”

  Natasha looked up at him. He forked some eggs and held it up to his mouth when she spoke, causing him to stop. “I’m already mated.”

  His fork dropped and he slammed his hand hard on the table, knocking over one of the shakers. “That little bastard who took you is not your mate. I forbid it!”

  “He claimed by your laws.”

  Her father flew out of the chair so fast it fell over backwards.

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  Natasha was also out of her seat, backing away before he could touch her or hit her again. She kept the long table between them, facing off with her father for the first time in her life.

  “You cannot follow the laws that you created.” She pointed a finger at him. “It isn’t right.”

  He got a hold of her, jerked her to the end of the table and his hand went up. Natasha prepared herself for the slap, but it didn’t come, thanks to the doorbell ringing. Instead, she got a push away from him.

  Natasha watched him fix his clothes straighten his hair and turn away from her. She followed him out to the front door, hanging back as he opened it.

  Charles Addison walked into the house. He is the head member of t
he Cabinet with the power to kick out any shifter. He could change all the laws, disband the Cabinet, or have the shifters that were breaking the laws punished. Charles Addison is a powerful shifter, one you wanted on your side. He always had a cane in his hand, even though he didn’t need one and dressed in suits with his black hair slicked back from his eyes.

  “Charles, what’re you doing here?” Philip asked, standing back as Charles walked into the house.

  Natasha stayed put as the man walked inside. He looked around, his eyes landing on her. The way his eyes narrowed on her had her shivering.

  “So it’s true then,” Charles said. “You have her back.”

  “Yes, she’s home, now what are you doing here?” Philip asked again.

  Charles shook his head, which he’d lowered. “You’ve broken the law Philip.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Philip took hold of Charles’ arm and led him away from Natasha.

  They went into his office, the door closing on her. Natasha pressed her ear against the door, listening as best as she could to the conversation inside.

  “Drake Draeger staked his claim to your daughter a week ago,”

  Charles said. “He wants her back.”

  “To damn bad,” Philip remarked. “She’s my daughter and he kidnapped her for Christ sakes.”

  “According to the law, the one that you signed, that is allowed.

  Males may take their mates any way they chose.”

  “Not my daughter!”

  “Philip, my hands are tied here. He has a claim. She belongs to 94

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  him.”

  “Forget it.”

  “Listening at closed doors will only get you into more trouble.”

  Natasha swung around to see Elli standing behind her, the stern expression on her face. “It isn’t proper to listen to things that are closed to your ears.”

  “You know, Elli, I’m getting really tired of you always being there to tell me what’s proper and what isn’t.” Natasha crossed her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes on the woman. “Was it proper or right for my father to beat me just because a male did what his law stated he could? Take and mate me? I belong to another and nothing my father can say or do is going to change that.”