Today had been one such day. Erik usually left the den for only a few hours at a time, but yesterday, he and Sten had gone off in search of the scouts that had yet to return. He’d left Sabine in charge of Astrid, offhandedly remarking “I don’t know when I’ll be back” as he walked away. The tension in the room had been palpable, and in that moment, even she had resented Erik. Sabine was the closest thing Astrid had to a friend in the pack, and by turning Astrid into a burden on the other woman, Erik was inadvertently sabotaging their relationship.
After a long and uncomfortable day, Astrid had suggested that they hang out with some of Sabine’s friends, in hopes that it would lift her spirits. Apparently it had been the right move, because the moment she sat down with the guys, Sabine was all coy smiles and wisecracks.
Astrid took a seat on the floor beside her. She drew her knees up to her chest, unintentionally making herself look smaller than she already was. When she was younger, her mother had always dismissed Astrid’s reticence to speak up in a group as shyness. But Astrid was far from shy. Rather, she had a bad habit of being overly talkative, and when she got started, she often rambled and lost track of what her point was. In a group setting, this social flaw bordered on unbearable.
The wolves didn’t speak in turn, and instead constantly spoke over one another, loudly proclaiming their points. Astrid tried to follow the conversations, but they spoke in rapid mash up of French and English that reminded her of the Spanglish she’d grown accustomed to hearing in Miami.
After only a few minutes, she began to miss Erik. She wondered how long it would be until he returned, and on a morbid train of thought, what would happen to her if he never came back. Would another male become alpha? Would he let her go, or keep her for himself?
Movement to her left drew Astrid’s attention. She turned in time to see Sylvestre at the end of his shift. He sat down beside her, one leg stretched out, the other arched with his arm resting atop it.
“Hello, Astrid.”
Sylvestre had always been polite towards her during the trek to Siluit territory. Astrid had found his politeness to be off-putting, because he’d treated her like a being to manage and not like flesh and blood person. He had never quite looked at her, but rather, he had seemed to look through her, as though she were made of glass.
That was why the mischievous glint in his eyes and the wry slant of his mouth was so surprising to Astrid. If he hadn’t addressed her by name, she would have assumed he was talking to someone behind her.
“Hi,” she said lamely. She tried to think of something clever to say, but only one thing popped into her mind. “Aren’t you cold?”
He was completely nude and making no effort to cover himself. Over the past few weeks, Astrid had grown accustomed to seeing naked men. A secret part of her actually enjoyed it, though she tried not to enjoy it too much, otherwise her scent would give her away. She would have thought that being with Erik, a male so sexy that she couldn’t have even conjured him up in a fantasy, would make all other men seem bland by comparison. That was partially the case. Astrid had no interest in sleeping with anyone but him—not like she could if she wanted to. But her curiosity always got the better of her, and she couldn’t help but scope out the other males from time to time.
Sylvestre had an impressive body. Unlike many of the other men, who seemed to be built for speed and maneuverability, he was sheer muscle power. He wore his long silver hair tied back at the nape of his neck. The light shade clashed with his dark bronze skin, and the effect was appealing in its uniqueness. Astrid could see no other hair on his body, not even below his waist, where his soft penis was draped over his thick thigh.
In a voice that positively sultry, he said, “On the contrary. I am quite hot.”
Her mind stuttered. She hadn’t realized the others were listening until she heard them chuckling. Even Sabine had her hand up over her mouth.
Winking, Sylvestre said, “They’re laughing at me, not you. Or rather, they’re laughing because they know that if Erik saw me right now, he would gut me.”
“I highly doubt that,” Astrid said, finding her voice. It had only been a few weeks since Erik had laughed in her face at the notion that he would kill for her.
Sylvestre scratched his nonexistent beard. “I am not so sure. You seem to be his favorite these days, though I do not know why.” He leaned in, expression devious. “You must do some very kinky things.”
A week ago, Astrid might have slapped him for such an offensive comment. But while their sex could be extremely rough and often ended with Erik licking up blood from the bites and scratches he’d inflicted, it was a far cry from kinky. Astrid couldn’t help but grin as she wondered what Sylvestre would think if he knew that she’d had to coax his alpha into letting her give him head.
Astrid leaned in as well, and before she could think better of it, she trailed a finger down the line between his pectoral muscles.
In her own sultry voice, she whispered, “You have no idea.”
The group exploded with laughter. Sylvestre’s face turned several colors, and then he was laughing as well. He patted her on the back a little too hard and assured Astrid that she was going to fit in nicely with them.
Sabine added, “But for Syl’s sake, don’t you ever let Erik see you doing that.”
The rest of the day passed in a blur, mostly because Astrid was genuinely enjoying herself. The wolves seemed to make an effort to speak mostly in English, though Astrid did pick up a rich array of French profanity. She did her best to keep her errant mouth in check, and Sylvestre rescued her whenever she slipped up, cutting her off to crack a joke.
Astrid lost track of time and didn’t realize she’d missed lunch until her stomach began growling. Sylvestre tried to excuse himself to get Astrid some salted meat from storage. Sabine stopped him.
“Don’t bother. I’m hungry as well. Let’s hunt.”
Her eyes were alight, much in the same way Noona’s did when Astrid picked up her tennis ball. Sylvestre quickly shut her down.
“We can hunt, but you have to stay with Astrid.”
Sabine glowered at him. “Not you, too. Astrid is an adult. She can take care of herself for a few hours.”
Astrid distinctly remembered her first night in the den, when Sabine had warned her not to leave her room, unless of course she wanted to be raped by a lust-crazed werewolf. But she kept this to herself, as she sort of agreed with Sabine. She was getting used to the layout of the den and had no trouble navigating her way from the main room to her chamber. There, she had plenty of fresh water, blankets to keep herself warm, and Ila’s dress to keep her busy.
“Allez!” The amber-eyed wolf barked as he stood. “Just bring her with us.”
“Good idea,” Sabine said, her smile returning. “Do you want to ride me, Astrid? Or would you prefer Sylvestre?”
Her grin was infectious, and Astrid found herself a little amped up at the prospect of going on a hunt. She wasn’t keen on seeing an animal get killed, but it had been days since she’d been outside to get fresh air.
“You’ll both ride me,” Sylvestre said. And in a stern glare at Sabine, he added, “And you’re to stay with her once we give chase.”
“Fine, fine,” Sabine sighed. “You heard Beau, allez.”
***
Astrid regretted leaving the den almost instantly. She clung to Sylvestre’s fur, wincing against the blast of icy wind that stung her face. It was snowing out, and she had trouble seeing more than a few feet in front of her.
Sabine, on the other hand, seemed thrilled. She sat behind Astrid, goading Sylvestre to speed up and barking at the other wolves.
While she had no interest in watching them hunt, it did fascinate Astrid that they could not only track prey, but also communicate in such harsh weather.
They traveled for a while before fanning out. Sabine quieted down then, though she occasionally made comments to Astrid, explaining what Sylvestre was doing. He climbed up a steep hill in hopes of g
etting a better vantage point, but from high up the region was still shrouded by falling snow. As the fresh snow muted sound, he had to rely solely on his nose to guide him.
The evening wore on without any sign of prey. After about an hour, Astrid would not have mind seeing a muskox get disemboweled if it meant she could go back to the den and crawl under her warm furs.
There was a howl in the distance, and Sylvestre stopped, his ears perking up to listen. As soon as it ended, Sabine howled back in response, seeming to forget that her mouth was right near Astrid’s ears. Astrid was still cringing as Sabine helped her down off Sylvestre’s back.
“They found something,” Sabine said as Sylvestre headed out after the others.
“What do you think it is? Muskox?” To Astrid’s shame, her mouth began to water at the thought.
Sabine shook her head, her light brows drawn together. “No. Something else.” She sounded distracted. “Wait here.”
Astrid immediately shook her head. “No way, are you crazy? I’ll die out here.”
“Don’t be melodramatic.” She removed her pelt and wrapped it around Astrid’s shoulders. “This will keep you warm while I’m gone.”
“Why don’t you just take me with you?”
Sabine clicked her tongue. “I’m not as big as the others. You’re too heavy for me. Now stay here. I’ll be right back.”
She shifted and took off after Sylvestre. Astrid stomped her foot and yelled after her. “Thanks a lot.”
Unlike the last time she’d been left alone on the tundra, Astrid didn’t dare move, not even to pace. She crouched down, huddling into a ball as she patiently waited for Sabine to return.
And waited.
And waited.
Without the aid of a time-telling device, she could only guess how long she’d been there, and her perception was heavily skewed by how miserable she felt. With nothing better to do, she began counting the seconds. She gave up once she hit twenty-eight minutes.
Up until that point, she’d been more aggravated than frightened. After all, it wasn’t as though Sabine and the others were going to leave her out there. But she began to worry that they might have gotten sidetracked. And did any of them know how quickly a human could get frostbite, or die of exposure?
Sabine and Sylvestre’s tracks were being slowly buried beneath the snowfall. Astrid waited another ten minutes, until her feet began to tingle with numbness, and then she went after the others. She reasoned that it wasn’t as though she were wandering off, or even trying to backtrack to the den. She had a clear path to them and all she had to do was follow it.
She walked in their footsteps, her anxiety waning. She felt proud to have come up with a plan on her own, rather than waiting around for the others to remember to come back for her. At least, that was until the ground slipped from beneath her feet. The snow had obscured everything around her, to the point that she wasn’t aware of what was happening at first. Then, she felt a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as she lost her equilibrium and began to fall.
CHAPTER FIVE
Astrid didn’t pass out when she finally hit the ground, though she almost wished that she had. Pain lanced her skull. She ignored the pain and pushed herself up with her hands. When her vision stopped swimming, she saw that her head had hit a rock. Droplets of blood marred the fresh snow. The sight of it made her feel queasy, but not as much as her current predicament did.
She staggered to her feet, wobbling a little, but managing to hold her ground. Sabine’s pelt had fallen off and her clothes were covered in snow. She was able to find the pelt a few feet away, but by the time she wrapped it around herself, her clothes felt heavy and her skin was growing damp.
When backtracking proved impossible, she began to call out for the others, yelling at the top of her voice. The air was so cold that it burned her lungs and her voice quickly became small and hoarse.
If time had felt slow before, it had now petered into a crawl. Lost in a never-ending sea of white, she thought that this must be what purgatory felt like. Or the ninth circle of hell.
She fell several times. Each time, it was harder to get up and eventually she gave up trying to walk against the storm. She covered in Sabine’s pelt, pulling it over her head to use it as a makeshift tent.
Underneath the pelt, she was spared from the brunt of the storm, but her body still trembled uncontrollably. She remained like that for a while, her thoughts scattered. For once, she tried not to think of what might happen to her, and instead focused on getting through each moment. Anything else would have been too terrifying.
The wind beat fiercely against her. A particularly strong gust slammed against the pelt, seizing it from the grip of her numb fingers. Astrid watched as the pelt was tossed into the air and then carried away. She tried running after it, but her legs quickly grew tired.
She bent, putting her hands on her knees and trying to catch her breath. Her lungs were burning, and she couldn’t think of what to do next. She wondered if Sabine had come back for her already, or if she’d still be in the same position if she had stayed put.
A large shadow appeared up ahead, then several more behind it. Astrid’s heart leapt and renewed energy rushed through her tired limbs. She stumbled forward, weakly calling out to the wolves. They didn’t seem to hear her small voice over the wind and she could only hope that they would catch her scent.
Suddenly, hands seized her from behind. One pinned her at the waist, pulling her back against a hard body. The other covered her mouth. She tried screaming and even bit down on the offending hand, but they only held her more tightly.
Her struggling stopped abruptly as the figures came into focus. The shadows she had seen were just that—but not of wolves. No less than two-dozen bears trudged through the snow. Their heads were bowed and they didn’t seemed to notice Astrid. Even so, she broke out into a cold sweat.
Long after the bears disappeared into the storm, Astrid remained still. When her captor loosened his grip, she slumped against him. He removed his hand.
“Keep your voice down. They’re still close.”
She recognized his scent a few seconds before he spoke, and she was already turning to fling her arms around Erik’s chest. He pulled her close, and the hand that had been silencing her now cradled the back of her head.
“Where are the others?” she whispered.
“When I find them,” he said in a low voice, “they’ll be dead.”
***
So far as he knew, none of his wolves were dead by the time Erik reached his den. He had not wasted time trying to find them and at present, he didn’t particularly care if the whole worthless lot of them was mauled by bear shifters.
In the face of an impending storm, he and Sten had decided to return to the den after only a day of searching. Erik’s logic had been that the pack would need his guidance if the storm did not quickly abate, though his wolf had wanted to return for an entirely different reason.
Half a day out, he had realized that he could be gone a while. He had known this before he left, but after hours away from his den, reality had crashed into him. He could be away for days, or even weeks, all the while leaving the human’s wellbeing in the hands of Sabine. And what if another male was bold enough to try and claim her for himself while Erik was away?
While his wolf thrashed within him, Erik had pressed on, if only to prove that he wasn’t prioritizing his need to mate over his pack. But the moment Sten had suggested they turn back, Erik had readily agreed. Now, he could see that his concerns were not at all unfounded.
Several wolves tried to approach him as he passed through the main room. He warned them back with a growl and headed for his chamber.
Cloistered in the small, familiar room, he removed her wet clothes and did a quick visual sweep of her body. Her extremities were reddened, but while they appeared painful, it was not a color that was cause for concern. The wound on her head bothered him more. It was obscured beneath her hair and although the bleeding had m
ostly stopped, he knew that head wounds could be deceptive.
“I’m really not in the mood right now,” she said, pushing a hand against his chest. It took him a minute to figure out what she was talking about.
“You think I’m trying to mate with you?” He asked, his lips twitching.
“Well, you did just take my clothes off.”
Her voice was hoarse and she didn’t open her eyes as she spoke. Erik pulled her into his lap and threw a stitched muskox pelt around them both, encasing her in his warmth.
“I thought I was going to die out there,” she said, nuzzling her cheek against his chest.
He combed through her hair with his fingers. “You always think you are going to die, yet here you are.”
The female had nine lives, to be sure.
“How did you find me? I couldn’t see anything out there.”
Happenstance. Pure happenstance.
On the way back to the den, Erik had caught the scent of another roaming bear tribe, this one headed even closer to the den than the last. He and Sten had split up, with Erik tracking the bears and his brother heading back to the den to alert the others. Upwind of her, he had not even smelled the human until he was nearly upon her, and even then, he’d barely reached her before she’d exposed herself to the bears. They might not have killed her, but they would have killed Erik had he tried to reclaim her.
In that instance, as he’d held her tightly against him and watched the herd of bears pass, Erik had rediscovered what it meant to be afraid. It had been something he’d thought that he had left behind in his tumultuous youth.
“It doesn’t matter. What I want to know is how you ended up out there.”
He’d been so absorbed with getting her to safety that he’d overlooked the obvious question.
“I went out on a hunt with the betas.”
What. The. Fuck.
“In a snowstorm?” he asked, each syllable dripping with contempt.
She looked up at him through bleary eyes. “It wasn’t snowing that badly when we left.”
Enslaved by the Alpha: Part Four Page 3
