Caleb growled from the shadows, ready to rip out the human’s throat, but Sylvie had already accepted Ron’s invitation. It almost killed him that she left him without a backward glance.
Bloody independent fairy! Doesn’t she know she’s mine?
He watched the car turn out of the hotel’s drive. He constantly got things wrong around her. She needed soft touches and gentle loving, not some wild beast plunging inside her. Like a fool, he’d insulted and belittled her; then he’d expected her to hang around until he apologized—seduced her more like—but her abrupt departure scuttled his carefully considered plans. He ran his fingers through his blond hair and tried to ignore the sick feeling in his gut. What if he lost her? Elves’ blood, he needed to track her down and court her, but apart from their mind-blowing sex, he’d behaved like a dumbed-down version of his brother.
The urge to transform into his primal beast tore through him, but the top-hatted concierge was too damn close. Too many humans had learned about the Lykae today, and he refused to make that mess any worse. Instead, Caleb stuck his hands in his pockets to hide his claws and sauntered off down the road. Once clear of human eyes, eight feet of werewolf shimmered into being—all flat-out fury, fangs, fur, and claws—and with an impossibly deep growl, Caleb raced off into the woods.
He’d judged Sylvie on Giles’s lies, and twice he’d turned her away from the wedding without giving her a chance to explain. His true-mate was beautiful, brave, and determined. Rather than give up she’d hidden her vehicle in the woods, fronted up at the hotel, and slipped inside with the caterers. Now she was letting another man drive her back to her car.
Caleb’s two-legged primal beast blended powerful wolf and arrogant warrior—a fearsome mix of instinct, wisdom, and superhuman strength. His blood boiled, and pressure built inside him. The full moon filled him with mating heat. His woman was out there—without him. He sped through the trees, moving faster than the human eye could follow, but a new sense of purpose drove him. He was the hunter, and Sylvie was his prey.
He was born to do this—to track her and claim her—and the chase filled him with joy. The taxi pulled up alongside Sylvie’s ancient sedan, and once Ron had paid it off, he rubbed his fingers down Sylvie’s arm in a possessive gesture that made Caleb’s primal wolf howl with rage. Elves’ blood, does the fool human really want to lose a limb? Caleb’s primal beast demanded to bathe in Ron’s blood. With a growl that came from his boots, Caleb launched himself into the clearing and yanked Sylvie against his chest. “Mine. Touch her again, and die.”
He cradled Sylvie into his side, and he liked how she didn’t faint or pass out at his primal beast form. Okay, she looked kind of shell-shocked, but he’d deal with that after he got rid of Ron.
“I knew you liked her.” Ron smirked. “But bring it on, wolf-man.”
Sylvie elbowed her way between them. “Behave, both of you. And just for the record, King Caleb the Cold, I don’t belong to anyone—least of all a liar and deceiver like you.”
Strong, courageous mate. One I’ll be proud to claim as my queen.
“Seems the lady has more sense than my cousin.” Ron stood behind Sylvie as he fumbled around inside his pocket. “And she wants nothing to do with a dog.”
“Back away, human.” Caleb towered over him. “And bugger off.”
Ron finally found what he’d been searching for, stepped out to face Caleb, and Tasered him in the chest.
Chapter Seven
Caleb dropped like he’d been poleaxed, and his body flickered between primal beast, human, and true wolf forms.
“Told you he’d get what he deserves.” Ron pulled out his cell phone. “And I knew he’d come after you.”
Sylvie stepped back and leaned against the car. “What have you done?”
“Saved you, you silly cow, or did you want to fuck with that? Now stand still and be quiet while I talk to my friends.” Even drunk, Rom seemed dangerous. He keyed a preprogrammed number. “Subject acquired, but he’s tougher than I expected.”
“And,” Sylvie whispered, “he’ll kill you when the Taser charge wears off.”
Ron backhanded her. “I told you to keep quiet, or do we have to kill you too?”
Caleb saw tears mist her eyes, but she blinked them away and backed off. Gods, he needed to kiss her tears from her cheeks—right after he handed her Ron’s head on a plate.
A white van skidded to a halt beside them. Two human males jumped out, chained Caleb’s arms behind him, twisted the chain around his ankles, and pulled it tight.
Elves’ blood, the damn thing’s silver.
It locked him in primal form and burned red brands into his flesh. Pain crescendoed through him and drove his primal beast insane. His roars grew more animalistic as his humanity sank deeper inside him. He needed to kill, destroy, and maim. But whatever his form, he’d protect Sylvie.
He grasped the links, burning deep welts in his hands as he tugged at the chain, but silver was every Lykae’s Achilles’ heel. Pain spasmed through his limbs, building, burning, branding. He needed his freedom. He needed his true-mate safe, and he needed Ron and his cronies dead. Hog-tied and helpless, all he could do was flop like an out-of-water goldfish at Sylvie’s feet.
“Ron,” she groaned and rubbed her cheek, “please listen. He’s every bit the dog you call him, and you’ve no idea how much I despise him for the way he treated me earlier, but how can your chains hold a fully transformed werewolf?”
Caleb groaned. She despised him? No surprises there then, but once he got free, Ron would die a long, painful death for hurting his true-mate.
Ron helped his accomplices manhandle Caleb into the van. “They’re silver coated. According to the Internet, they lock a werewolf in his primal form, but that’s an improvement if you ask me.”
The chain burned his flesh like a branding iron, but he’d survive whatever Ron and his thugs planned. Then he’d teach them to respect his true-mate.
He needed Sylvie safe and well—naked and in his arms would be good too, but he’d already blown that. Was this pain in his chest the same one that made his discarded lovers weep and try to crawl back into his bed? Gods, he’d been such a louse.
“What happens now?” Sylvie asked. “What are you going to do with him?”
Ron brandished a solid silver butcher knife. “Maybe a little vivisection, or maybe we’ll have him stuffed and sell him to a freak show. The thing is, we can’t have any conscience-stricken little girls running back to the party and telling his friends.”
“Tell them?” Sylvie backed toward her sedan. “No way. Not after what the bastard did to me. I’m more likely to kick in his ribs.”
Ron’s mates snickered at her reaction, but Ron grabbed her chin and studied her face. “Tough talk, little one. So tell me just what he did.”
“He didn’t want more humans at the wedding than necessary, and he had his security men throw me out. I outsmarted him, and he hated it, so His Wolfishness over there kidnapped me. I had to climb out a second-floor window, balance along a narrow stone ledge, and shin down a vine that tried to crush the life out of me. That’s why I almost missed my best friend’s wedding.”
Caleb’s deep growl came out like a groan. He’d never expected her to risk her life to escape him. When he’d left her in the otherworld, he’d imagined her naked and desperate, counting the seconds until he returned. Elves’ blood, he’d damn near raped her. And she hated him for that. Everything about her touched the emotions he constantly suppressed. With her, he wanted to laugh, feel, and play, but he’d forfeited his dream when he carted her off to his hunting lodge to keep her from his brother’s wedding.
“Women are notoriously softhearted.” Ron shook his head and considered. “There’s nothing for it. You’ll have to come with us.”
BEFORE SYLVIE COULD argue, he flung her on top of Caleb. As Ron slammed the doors, she glimpsed a second van. God, how many of these idiots were there? Shut in darkness so intense she felt as though she wore a
blindfold, she heard the engine fire up. As the van bounced down an unmade track, every bump tossed her and Caleb around like dice in a cup. Even hog-tied in silver chains, she saw how hard he tried not to crush her, but when he rasped out an apology for involving her in his mess, she turned away. Finally she found a handhold and pulled herself into a sitting position. Silence stretched between them.
If Sylvie told these witless wonders how she lusted after King Caleb, they’d never trust her enough to set her free. She needed to get away and fetch help, but damn it, she must have a sign that said KIDNAP ME stuck on her chest.
She tried to remember everything she’d learned about method acting and threw herself into her “plucky, wronged woman” role. That stark, betrayed look in Caleb’s eyes made her heart ache, but Ron and his accomplices could hear every word. She needed to convince their captors she was on their side, so she hardened her heart and refused to meet Caleb’s plaintive gaze.
She constantly tried to grasp her powers, but they stayed frustratingly out of reach. Her anguished, fairy shriek bubbled inside her, but it would shatter human eardrums. If these bigots crashed the car, things would only get worse.
She wanted to throw her arms around Caleb and comfort him. At the very least, she wanted to bury her head in his golden fur, but even if they were free, she wouldn’t do that. Not after she’d seen him lap up attention from those big-bosomed floozies. Not that she was jealous or anything—yeah, right. Back in the tower, she’d given herself completely, and she’d hoped he’d done the same. Damn it, second-best again.
A powerless fairy, more human than Fae, she’d never measure up to the Lykae king’s standards. She’d liked things better back when he’d been a bodyguard with a penchant for kinky sex. Back when they’d had a chance of a future. When he’d erupted from the woods, Caleb had radiated fierceness and power. He made her feel like she mattered. Deep down, she’d loved how he’d shouted, “Mine.”
Only, a king needed a strong queen, not a half-blood Fae with intermittent magic. His wicked sexual games left her frustrated, but her bone-shattering orgasm had changed everything—until he’d left her locked up and alone. He was a serial seducer, a hardened liar who’d deceived her from the start. He’d insulted her over and over, but her confusing Lykae stared at her as if she’d hurt him.
He was all towering muscle, teeth, and claws. She didn’t envy their captors if he got loose. His fearsome beast form would howl in triumph as he ripped off their limbs, but she knew he’d never hurt her. Despite everything, she still wanted to stick around and be his sex toy, but if she did, her brother would mount his battle dragon and start the war she’d tried so hard to stop.
The way her arrogant seducer lay beside her—helpless and chained but still struggling against the silver that bound him—brought a lump to her throat. The only way she could help him was to wear her disgust like a cloak. That way they might both survive.
She’d always treasure the memories of the way he’d roused her wanton side, and she loved how he’d feasted on her cunt, then fucked her so hard she’d ached when she walked. As she relived each memory, her magic flared inside her, but when she tried to grasp it, the power slid though her fingers and faded.
A sharp right turn threw Caleb’s wolfish head against her thigh. The touch of his fur-covered snout was warmth and comfort in a world of kidnappers and would-be killers, but she needed to stay strong for them. The sense of loss when she deliberately curled her legs away was overwhelming.
The journey seemed endless, but they finally jerked to a halt. The late afternoon sunshine flooded in and dazzled her.
Ron half helped her, half pulled her from the van’s dark interior. “Watch your step and go inside.”
Caleb growled, all teeth, claws, and obvious frustration. As she watched, he grasped his ankles and curled into a ball. He rolled out of the van, slammed into Ron, and used his massive bulk to pin his captor to the ground.
Ron’s gang surrounded them like jackals closing in on fallen prey. One giggled—high-pitched and girlie—as he kicked Caleb over and over. Another used Caleb’s thighs like a punching bag. A third walloped him across the chest with a tire lever. The one with the long hair and glasses hung back and watched, a sadistic smile on his lips as he enjoyed Caleb’s pain.
Sylvie looked away, unable to watch Caleb suffer, but more than ever she needed to convince these maniacs she was on their side.
Caleb turned sad, resigned eyes on her. “Run, and don’t look back.”
Even chained and defenseless, he looked out for her. Amazed at his self-sacrifice, she stared toward the woodland—but she hadn’t a clue where their captors had brought them.
“Don’t even think about it.” Long Hair and Glasses leveled a gun at her chest. “And make your pet fucktard behave.”
The other three struggled to shove Caleb’s bulk off Ron. Finally free of the Lykae’s crushing weight, Ron panted and groaned as though he’d been in a car crash. His furious glower promised Caleb more pain. “Fucking dog. I’ll kill you for this.”
If she could’ve got her hands on that gun, Sylvie would have shot them where they stood. Caleb lay motionless and panting, but throughout the beating, he’d never made a sound—except when he tried to save her.
Brave Lykae warrior—fighting to keep me safe.
Her heart melted, and she wanted to fling herself on his chest, but that wouldn’t help them escape. She glowered at Long Hair and Glasses. “He’s not mine. I wouldn’t have him even now you’ve got him gift wrapped.”
She helped Ron to his feet and offered him her most flirtatious smile. “That thing deserves everything he gets.”
“You’ll regret that, wolf-man.” Ron kicked out at Caleb’s damaged ribs. “Drag the stinking animal inside and shove him in his cage.”
Sylvie winced when they dragged Caleb across the rocky ground, but even though blood bubbled up through her Lykae’s fur, he never made a sound. She kicked her shoes beneath the van and hoped that when the packs discovered Caleb was missing, they could track them by her smell. Scanning the forest to work out their location, she trailed after her captors into a log cabin.
Ron and his gang of bigots forced Caleb into a six-foot cube of steel bars and kicked him senseless. Sylvie looked around for a weapon, but she was useless against brute strength and muscle. If only she could contact the Lykae packs, they’d make these madmen pay in blood and pain. Finally when Caleb’s body went limp, their captors backed off and slammed the cage door.
Please God, don’t let him be dead.
Ron grinned like a gibbon, slid the key in his pocket, and wrapped his arm around Sylvie’s waist. She almost shuddered at his touch, but for Caleb’s sake she’d pretend she liked Ron’s embrace. Good grief, she’d give anything to get hold of his gangster friend’s gun. Instead, she snuggled against Ron’s side and flashed him her best come-get-it smile.
“Thank you for rescuing me.” She faltered. “He’s so big and scary, I don’t know what I’d have done when he came after me. The way you stood up to him was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Ron soaked up the flattery like a sponge. “We’re not set up for visitors, but come through to the kitchen and you can make us a brew.”
Her? Make them a brew? The chauvinistic bastard thought she was some chattel to order about at will—but for the moment she’d play his game. She bristled when he ran his fingers up and down her arm, remembered her role, and smiled again.
The well-equipped kitchen seemed incongruous in this run-down shed. As she hunted for mugs and coffee, Sylvie asked, “How could you get all this together so quickly?”
“I’ve known Daphne’s little secret for years.” Ron smirked. “But as long as her human half won out, I didn’t give a damn. Once she married that stinking dog, she sealed his fate. Then I cottoned on that his brother was their freaking king. There’s this organization online, the People’s Defense League, and they supplied the silver chains and steel cage.”
The
man was a mass of prejudice and hatred, but he’d found more bigots to fund his cruel games. For now, she stared out at the forest and tried to figure out how to get free. At least the plants wouldn’t eat her out there. Only she didn’t want to run off and leave Caleb chained up and imprisoned in that steel cage.
Meanwhile, she pretended she suffered from Stockholm syndrome and filled the kettle. It wasn’t until Ron sat at the table and sharpened his silver butcher’s knife that her compliance faltered.
“I wonder”—he tested the edge of the blade with his thumb—“where the root of his power lies. Do you think his brain’s wired up different, or do you think it’s his heart? There’s only one way to find out, but I think I’ll hamstring him and make him beg before I skin him alive.”
“But I thought you planned to use him to control the Lykae? Actually”—Sylvie rested her hand on his shoulder—“I thought you were pretty smart, capturing him like that.”
“I considered it.” He leered. “But this way’s more fun.”
“As long as the chains hold. Ron, are you sure they’re secure?”
“The Internet’s full of information, and it turns out silver really is wolf-man’s Achilles’ heel.”
She almost laughed at his reliance on search engines, but he’d hit the jackpot with this silver thing. And what the hell was the People’s Defense League? They obviously despised the Lykae, but how did they feel about the Fae? She’d give good odds they weren’t all fuzzy and warm toward them. What if they started to kidnap and torture them too?
These creeps called Caleb an animal, but they were the ones out of control here. Once she got free, she’d warn her brother about these monsters masquerading as freedom fighters in a war that didn’t exist—yet. If they killed Caleb or hurt her, the otherworld would close ranks and destroy them. She’d survive today and somehow save Caleb. She had to, but she’d pump Ron for information along the way. She just wished she had knockout drops instead of sugar to put in their tea.
To Wed a Werewolf Page 6
