He sighed.
The blame game would get him nowhere. It wouldn’t change the fact he was a prisoner. That he’d been held in some form another for nearly a year. He felt like a trapped rat, stuck on a wheel with no hope of ever getting anywhere. There for scientists to view and mock at will, his fate in their hands. And most of them were sick bastards. They got off on inflicting pain and being sadistic pricks. When he’d found himself being yanked from the last facility by men in masks, he’d foolishly hoped it was a rescue mission.
He’d been wrong.
Nearly dead wrong.
He was back in the clutches of madmen, different ones, but mad all the same. He should have been used to it by now. Used to the constant prodding and poking. Used to guards who took great pleasure in being as brutal as possible.
Brad took in the bare walls surrounding him, feeling as if they were closing in on him. With a growl he spun and punched the wall, cracking the cement block slightly. He hit it again and again, making some headway, but not enough. He knew from practice that there was more than one layer to the holding cell walls. The facility had obviously been retrofitted with supernaturals in mind. And caging one required reinforced everything.
Brad drew his fist back, his knuckles bloody and raw. As quickly as the injuries had appeared, they vanished, his skin smoothing over. He wiped away the blood and there was no sign he’d been hurt.
Healing had been something he’d done quickly prior to his capture. Since he’d been subjected to test after test, procedure after procedure, he found everything that he’d once come to accept about himself was in question. He now healed at a rate that even supernaturals would find impressive. Though, there were some wounds that, while the scars had faded significantly, were still evident. He was also stronger than he’d been. But with great healing and strength came a huge weakness—control. His once semi-solid control over his wolf side was nearly nonexistent. Most of his time was spent trying to keep himself from shifting forms. Each period he did lose control and give in to the beast, he lost track of time and woke in a weakened state. And from the expressions on the scientists and guards’ faces, he’d been a monster while shifted.
The fear of changing and not being able to return to human form was real and always with him. He’d seen other test subjects fall victim to it. Seen them enter their shifted form, only to remain stuck in it. The doctors and scientists performed even more tests before finally putting the test subject down and out of its misery.
I wish they’d put me down, he thought, lowering his gaze to his fists once more. They’d turned him into something. A monster. He’d end up like the others. He’d get stuck in wolf form before being shot execution style. It was just a matter of time. He could only hope they killed him sooner rather than later. Controlling the urges was getting harder and harder.
The sick sons-of-bitches had been trying to force him to mate from the word go. They tried just about anything they could think of in order to get him to take a woman, use her, spend his seed in her and give them what they wanted—more test subjects. He’d managed to resist it all so far, but his self-restraint was wavering. They kept pumping him with more and more of those fucking drugs and he knew he’d break soon enough. It didn’t matter that a new puppet master pulled his strings, a bad guy was a bad guy. Shades of gray was the shit fairytales were made of and this was no fucking fairytale.
“If it is,” he said softly, his attention moving to the cracked wall, “I’m the big bad wolf.”
He paced the cell once more, his nerves on edge, heavy with worry for the newest subject they had wanted him to breed. Her name was Mae and she seemed like a nice enough girl. And he had zero sexual interest in her. That didn’t mean anything in the world of the people holding him. The vampire who was in charge, or at least pretended to be in charge, was after the same results as the sick bastards who took him from South America. They all wanted more product to sell and test. And in this scenario Brad and the other test subjects were the product, the merchandise to do with as they may.
His thoughts returned to Mae. From the moment he’d heard her humming a soft melody for him, he’d felt somewhat calmer around her and he’d also begun to fear the inevitable. The moment when they’d shoot him up with even more drugs and force a partial or full change on him. He feared he’d do the unthinkable, and in that state force himself on her or rip her to shreds. Neither one was something he wanted to happen. Not to any woman, but seeing Mae in a sexual light seemed extra wrong for some reason he couldn’t explain.
Didn’t want to bother to try.
“Where is she?” he asked of the empty room. He’d become quite good at talking to himself since he’d been taken. Occasionally, someone listening in over the surveillance system would answer, nearly always being assholes when they did.
It seemed like hours since they’d taken Mae and he hadn’t seen anyone else since then. He didn’t want to think on what they were doing to her. He’d seen many women come and go since he’d been taken. For a while he’d desensitized himself from it all, but Mae had changed that for him. He felt a strange friendship forming with her. It wasn’t attraction, but he did care about her and her well-being.
He heard footsteps and then smelled one of the guards. A snarl broke free from him and claws threatened to emerge from his fingertips. As his hate of his captors rose, he caught scent of something else. Something that didn’t make him want to kill. Something that seemed very out of place in the holding facility.
Strawberries and mint?
What a strange combination. His wolf took notice of it as well, wanting to know the source. It didn’t take long before his cock took a keen interest as well. He stiffened and tried to will his lower extremity into behaving. It had a mind of its own and currently it was thinking “Get bent, asshole, whatever is coming smells fuckable.”
Blatantly, he reached down, took hold of himself through the hospital-issued scrub pants he wore, and adjusted. He found no relief in a new position. As the scent’s strength grew, so did the urge to screw a hole through the wall. His body was pumped full of so many drugs that he feared he might give in and hump the cement blocks. Rage at his captors rushed over him at the same moment intense need slammed through him as the smell of strawberries and mint grew even stronger.
Looking through the display window into Mae’s cell, Brad watched as the door to her room opened. It wasn’t Mae who entered. A stacked, leggy redhead staggered in, her long hair falling forward, covering her face partially at first. The same need that had hit him at her scent, rushed through him even stronger, centering in his groin once more. With a groan, he held himself, hoping no one would notice just how much she turned him on. The people holding him were hell-bent on breeding the women, and Brad didn’t want them to realize just how much the redhead appealed to him in that manner. For the briefest of moments, he actually had a flash in his mind of seeing her frame swelling with his child.
He had to shake his head to clear the image. As she flipped her long hair back, showing off just how stunning she was, all hope of him erasing the thought of having children with her was abandoned. Her gaze narrowed on the guard who had thrust her into the room. Nothing short of rage burned in her eyes.
“Hey, I told you that Ezra said to bring you to this cell,” the guard said, lifting his hands in the air as if to show he was innocent in it all. “Stop looking at me like you want to rip my nuts off.”
Brad’s appreciation of the woman increased. Anyone who was willing to give the bastards holding them a hard time was all right by him.
“Oh, I do,” she snapped, her voice making Brad’s cock stir more. “I want to spoon feed them to you, asshole.”
The guard nodded, his eyes widening. He made a motion to cover his groin area. “I know. Crazy bitch.”
Hearing the man call her a bitch set Brad on edge. His wolf pushed up, wanting out, wanting to rip the guard’s head off for daring to speak to the woman in such a way. He wasn’t sure how long had
passed before he got something close to control of his beast. The guard shut the cell door and the woman folded her arms under her large breasts, drawing more attention to them. Not that they needed any help in that department. She was extremely blessed.
He thought quickly of what it would be like to bury his head between her breasts as he sampled them with his lips, before moving down her slowly, tasting all of her.
“Dick!” she shouted at the closed cell door, jerking Brad from his sexual daydream.
He grinned, liking her fire.
Chapter Seven
Alice adjusted her shirt and blew out a long, annoyed breath as she found herself in yet another holding cell. It was the fourth holding cell she’d inhabited since she’d been grabbed from her university campus while attempting to leave a fraternity party. She’d been terrified to start with, unsure where she was, who had taken her and why she’d been grabbed. Now she was pissed.
The guard who had dragged her to the newest cell was one she’d only just met since arriving at the current facility. Apparently, her previous guards had given the man an earful because he’d been leery of her from the word go.
Good.
She fought the urge to lift her middle fingers and tell this one to go fuck himself. The last guard she’d tried that with had hit her in the gut so hard she’d had trouble breathing for a couple of days. She was still a little tender but she wasn’t going to let on. Giving them the satisfaction of knowing they’d caused her pain just wasn’t in her personality.
The desire to tuck away and cry until she ran out of tears was still overwhelming, but she clung to her anger. It was the only thing keeping her going. The guard slammed the door as he left and she curled her lip in disgust.
When she was moved from the other holding facility, she’d been both terrified and hopeful. Foolishly, she’d thought she might be able to find the perfect opportunity to escape. That maybe Ezra would change his mind about the risk and just set her free. That hadn’t been the case. Ezra had continued to play the part of dutiful guard, even though she knew he wasn’t with them. He wasn’t a bad guy. She couldn’t say the same for the rest of the men.
She’d been shackled for her transport, a cloth hood put over her head, and for a portion she’d been carried. Mostly because she’d been kicking and hitting at the men trying to escort her out. The ride over had taken, by her estimate, an hour at most. She’d done her best to attempt to count turns and anything that might indicate the path they’d taken. She was fairly certain they’d driven over at least one, possibly two sets of railroad tracks, and on their approach she’d smelled the ocean and heard seagulls. The telltale sound of a boat blowing its horn had confirmed her suspicion that she was near docks.
It wasn’t much, but it was something. She’d take anything that might help her figure out where she was and who, exactly was holding her. Befriending Ezra had proved somewhat useful, although it wasn’t a total win, as she was still being held prisoner. His promise to get her out and to safety was one she wanted to fully believe in but she was skeptical. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, she didn’t trust the situation and all the players involved. There were elements out of his control.
At least the new place was cleaner than the last. When they’d taken the hood off her, she’d noticed that much straight away. She looked around at what would be her new home, at least for now. It was bigger than the others. At least double the size and wasn’t coated in mold.
I’m really moving up in the world, she thought with a snort.
Alice ran her hands through her long hair, pushing it back from her face as she turned slightly, studying her environment, hoping this cell had a weakness. It was built much like the others she’d been in, but this one had a thick viewing window and the viewing window wasn’t showing her an empty cell. She froze as she spotted a man standing on the other side of it.
At first she thought he was a guard watching her, but from his disheveled appearance and scrub bottoms that matched her own, she surmised he too was a captive. A rather good-looking one at that, despite his overgrown beard and long, unkempt hair. His upper body was bare, showing off his toned frame, though he looked thinner than a man of his size and stature should be. That didn’t take from his muscular build though.
Her inner harlot leapt with joy at the sight of the man and Alice nearly staggered from the force with which her succubus wanted her to know she’d accept that man fully. That there would be no resistance to him, no guilt, no second-guessing. Never had it behaved this way. Normally, the succubus seemed rather bored with the males she encountered, wanting only to use them to sate its baser needs. But this man was different. This man piqued her succubus’s interest and her sexual desires. He made her cravings intensify to the point they hurt. She fought the need to double over from the cramp slicing through her. She’d suffered them before, but never this strong. Never this intense.
Alice wanted to blame it all away on the fact she’d been unable to properly feed since her capture, but her gut told her that wasn’t the case at all. This was different.
Raw.
Primitive.
And focused solely on the man through the viewing glass. Her mouth went dry as quick flashes of what it would be like to have him above her, pumping in and out of her, swept over her. Her inner thighs quivered with lust. She wanted the window between them to shatter, just like she wanted her body to do when he brought her to climax—and she was sure he could. From the smoldering look in his dark brown eyes, he knew his way around the female form.
Part of her survival had always hinged on her being able to read people’s sexual tells. The way they’d tip their head or bite at their lower lips, or the way they would clench a fist or change their posture when they were attracted to someone. His tells were so obvious they’d have knocked her over the head if they could. He was clenching his fists, his breathing rapid, his nostrils flaring, his pupils dilating. His gaze was focused on her mouth, another tell. She wet her lips and he squeezed his fists tighter.
Good.
That meant the fierce attraction wasn’t one-sided. If she couldn’t fight her succubus and its needs then maybe this man would be willing to help her. At this point she wasn’t sure simple sexual energy would do, but she’d try it. She had to. There was no other choice in the matter. And if she didn’t get a handle on it and soon, she’d do the unthinkable and use a guard—something she did not want to resort to. She’d never be able to wash that emotional stain away.
Ever.
Her attention remained on the man through the viewing glass. She visually traced every bit of his upper body she could see. She committed it to memory, each ridge of muscle making her want to reach down and touch herself. He was the type of man she could stare at all day.
Stop, she practically screamed at her inner harlot. Focus on escaping, not jumping the man’s bones.
It had been too long since she’d fed that side of herself. Too long without sexual energy. Controlling the succubus wasn’t going to be easy. Especially not with a hottie being housed in the room next to her.
Needing to cling to her composure, Alice kept her eye on him and spoke. There were so many things she wanted to say, but none of that came out. “Who are you?”
His hungry gaze intensified. “Brad. And you?” he asked, his voice deep and rich, only adding to the intense interest her succubus side had for him. Of course she’d be put next to temptation personified. Why not?
“Alice,” she replied, swallowing hard. A glass of water would be great. Especially one that wasn’t drugged, as were most of the ones she’d been given since her capture. She chanced another glance in Brad’s direction and found him still staring at her, although he was now even closer to the window. This time his gaze was locked on her breasts. He bit at his lower lip and Alice held back a smile. She liked knowing he was attracted to her.
The need to ask him to strip off the thin bottoms, grab his cock and stroke it while she watched him masturbate was all co
nsuming. It took all she had to refrain. She wasn’t sure it would be enough or that she’d be able to cage her own inner beast once the succubus was given a taste of the man’s energy.
She’d heard horror stories of what happened when her kind was denied for too long. Heard tales of how the person they chose to feed from in that state was left a husk—a dry, withered shell, appearing mummified in some respects.
She couldn’t do that.
Not to him.
She’d have to figure out another way to sate her needs. She looked upwards at the ceiling, attempting to stare at anything other than his abs. If she could keep a tight hold on her succubus she just might make it through the night. Ezra had promised it wouldn’t be long before he got her out. She just had to hold on to that hope for now.
Easier said than done.
She exhaled loudly and twisted, her attention pulled in the direction of the bed in the corner of the cell. She was about to make a smartass comment on how much more luxurious this set-up was than her last when she spotted a discarded pair of glasses lying on the bed. She knew those frames. She’d seen them enough in the last four and a half years.
They were Mae’s!
She bolted in the direction of the bed, her heart hammering so loudly she couldn’t hear anything over it. They had Mae too? She gripped the glasses in her hand tight enough to know they were real but not enough to break them. No. They couldn’t have Mae.
“Who was in here before me?” she asked, desperation clinging to her every word as she stared at the window and Brad.
“That is Mae’s cell,” he said softly, confirming her worst fears. His nostrils flared, though this time she instinctively knew it wasn’t with desire, but with rage and anger inferred. “They took her hours ago. She was having a reaction to the drugs they’re giving us.”
It took everything in Alice to hold tight to the tears wanting to come. She’d been locked up, threatened, beaten and tested on over the past however long she’d been held and nothing had brought her to the brink of breaking like hearing confirmation that Mae was a prisoner too. No help would be coming. No one would know she was missing. Her penchant for taking off for weeks at a time would mean her parents wouldn’t suspect anything out of the ordinary. Only Mae would have questioned her absence. Mae would have sent up warning flags to others in their lives.
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