by Lola Taylor
The dungeons once smelled of blood, feces, and death, but now they smelled faintly like lemon. Which would have been hysterical had it not been so downright weird. He had to admit, his housekeepers did a damn good job of cleaning the place. Alara still got on to him for leaving his clothes on the floor instead of using the hamper, but seriously, what was the point when someone else was going to pick it up for him?
The girl hadn’t stopped crying the entire way to the holding cells. They were nice, by prison standards, with new stone floors, clean twin beds in each cell, and a little dresser with a mirror covered in fake glass beside said beds. Clearly, his interior decorator hadn’t looked up the definition of the word “dungeon” when he’d mentioned he’d wanted the place gutted and redone. Hell, it was like a damn hotel compared to what it had been during Malachite’s reign.
Bastard.
He closed his eyes. Okay, new rule—no more thinking about Malachite right now. He had something else more pressing to deal with.
Prioritize. You’re an Alpha now.
The girl sniffled as his men sat her down on a metal folding chair—with a cushion, might he add, that probably cost more than the chair was worth, thanks to the overly enthusiastic designer—and stared at her feet.
He knelt in front of her, his face a mask of apathy. “You can stop the fake waterworks now. You’re not a very good actress anyway.”
Almost as if on cue, her tears dried up, and she went utterly still. It was eerie as fuck. Slowly, she lifted her head and stared back at him with dead eyes. He thought “dead” because there was no emotion whatsoever within them, as if he were looking at a damn statue.
Can we say “creepy”?
He thought she might say something first or at least come back with a sarcastic quip, but her lips remained closed.
Since the endless staring was starting to creep him out, he decided to talk first. “Let’s start with your name.”
“I’ve had many.”
Damn, even her voice was emotionless. Shivers broke out over his skin. “Care to elaborate?”
“I’m a doppelgänger,” she said without batting a lash.
He raised a brow while resisting the urge to shudder. Doppelgängers, or skin walkers, creeped him the fuck out. All that talk about how if you saw your doppelgänger you were going to die was true. If they took your shape—your very soul, he thought, though the details were sketchy to him since he’d never actually seen a doppelgänger—then you essentially became a soulless corpse. Nik could think of few things on this earth worse than being alive and yet trapped in your own body. He’d heard stories of people murdering their own children, doing other vulgar, obscene acts, and torturing themselves if the doppelgänger required information the host was unwilling to give. But they always caved in. They had to; supposedly, the longer the doppelgänger leached off your soul, the weaker you became. He wasn’t sure he’d have the kind of restraint necessary not to give in were he in that situation.
Suppressing a shiver, Nik reached out to Alara through their bond. Call Penelope. We’re going to need her help. Tell her to hurry, he added as an afterthought.
Alara silently slipped out of the room and flipped open her cell phone just outside the door. Judging by how quickly she’d left, she was just as freaked out by their unwanted visitor as he was.
The girl’s eyes darted to Alara for a second and then back to Nik’s.
He growled and stepped in front of her, shielding the door from the doppelgänger’s view. “You seem awfully interested in my mate.”
The girl smiled. Rather than giving him the warm fuzzies, it made him want to throw up. “She’s pretty.”
“You mean her body is pretty.”
“It’s one and the same, isn’t it?” she asked coyly.
Yeah. This girl was totally a wolf in sheep’s clothing. “Well, you can forget about whatever it is you’ve come to do, because you’re not going anywhere near her.”
The girl grinned, her eyes sparkling with challenge. We’ll see about that, her expression seemed to say.
He might admire her spunk if he didn’t want to skewer her.
Nik crossed his arms. Gage remained silent near the wall, surrounded by his guards. He didn’t look any more pleased about this than Nik was. Nik appreciated him keeping his mouth shut and letting him handle the situation, considering he was the Alpha at Crescent Manor now and they were on Moonstruck Pack turf. Much like politics in the human world, you had to be careful about stepping on another Alpha’s paws while in their den.
“Why were you in my house earlier tonight?” Nik asked. The steel in his voice warned her she better not fuck around.
She blinked, looking surprised for a split second, before her earlier arrogance returned. “I wasn’t.”
Nik glanced at Gage. “Do you smell bullshit?”
“I think it reeks of bullshit in here,” Gage said, eyes glowing gold. “Maybe we need to try more… persuasive methods to get the answers we seek.”
Nik raised a brow. Gage had never been one for torture, though Nik enjoyed the hell out of beating the shit out of bad guys. Being High King had hardened his little brother.
Good. Maybe now he’d finally be strong enough to survive the cutthroat world of Underworld politics.
“Good idea.” Nik went to pick up a heavy metal object that looked as if it could be used for sawing wood.
Or bone, in this case.
The girl swallowed hard as he walked back over to her without so much as a hitch in his step. He’d done some pretty terrible things to criminals they’d tried and found guilty, but they’d always done worse. They’d deserved it.
This girl… what had she done? She couldn’t help being what she was. Doppelgängers had to switch bodies in order to survive, he’d been told. The myths surrounding them were a little murky, so he didn’t know exactly how they worked. But taking a saw to a girl’s leg did, admittedly, make him think twice about what he was doing.
He glanced at her. Her eyes were glued to the saw, and her chest heaved as her breathing quickened. He swore she paled, though it was hard to tell with all the dirt coating her like a second skin. “Care to change your story?”
“I…” Her voice fumbled for an answer. “I’m not lying.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself. Hope you don’t need this.” He started to press down. The teeth of the saw bit into the grimy flesh of her thigh, drawing blood, and she yelped.
“Wait!” she shrieked. “I’ll tell you!”
He almost snorted. He had no intention of actually sawing her leg off. Even he had limits. But the bluff had accomplished the desired result.
Straightening, he crossed his arms, keeping the saw in plain view as a reminder not to lie to him again. “So why are you here?”
“I…” She gulped then breathed a few deep breaths. “I sneaked in through the vents.”
Shit. He made a mental note to have the whole premises swept by his warriors stat. How the hell had something like that escaped his notice? “Go on,” he said.
“I came inside because I was trying to see if this was a safe place or not.”
“Then you went back outside?”
She nodded, blushing. “I thought you might try to attack me if you caught me inside your house. If I appeared nonthreatening, outside of your home, I thought you might be more receptive to me.”
“Why would you want to come here?” Gage asked.
Nik didn’t mind. He’d been about to ask the same himself.
This time, the girl did drain completely of color. Her eyes were wide. She didn’t look scared—she looked terrified.
“Because…” She glanced around, her voice lowering to a whisper. “I’m running from someone.”
“Who?” Nik pressed when she didn’t give a name.
She started to shake.
“Mistress Black.”
Outside the door, Alara went still. She gripped the cell phone she still carried after she’d gotten off a call with Penelope
, the Moonstruck Pack’s resident go-to White Witch. Blinking to snap out of her shock, Alara had been about to walk back inside the dungeon when she heard the girl blurt out the name that had seized control of Alara’s thoughts.
Mistress Black. What the hell was the girl doing tangled up with that bitch?
Alara blinked and snapped to her senses. If the girl was running from Mistress Black, that meant she’d possibly seen her. Knew where she lived, perhaps.
If the girl had intel on the Order, Alara could use it to her advantage to find out how to destroy them.
So eager she couldn’t wait, she marched into the room. “What do you know?” she demanded.
“Alara!” Nik hissed, but she growled and snapped her teeth, which had sharpened to fangs, at him. A low snarl crept up her throat as she pinned her eyes to the terrified girl. The glow of her gaze shone pale, yellow light onto the doppelgänger’s face.
“Tell me,” Alara insisted, her voice scratchy, somewhere between woman and wolf. That dark desire for revenge burned hotter inside of her. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around the girl’s neck, pressing her claws into her flesh. “Or I’ll rip your throat out.”
Nik’s jaw hit the floor, as did about everyone’s in the room. He stared at her a while longer before shaking his head and cautiously approaching her. “Have you lost your mind?” he said quietly. The muscle along his jaw tensed as he cast wary eyes from Alara’s face to the girl’s throat.
“Maybe,” Alara wanted to say. The memory of her sister, her delicate body soiled in her own blood, flashed across Alara’s mind. Her grip tightened. One of her claws pierced the girl’s skin, drawing blood and a cry of alarm from her. “Tell me what you know. Now.”
A strangled gasp slipped from the girl’s mouth as Alara began to squeeze.
Alara! snapped Nik’s voice in her head, loud enough to rattle her brain. And, luckily, enough to return her to her senses.
Alara blinked several times, and her grasp slackened. Her hand dropped to her side, and the girl immediately choked down a breath, grabbing at her throat. The red outline of Alara’s fingers was imprinted on the girl’s skin, bright against the muck, along with a thin red scratch. A dollop of fresh blood beaded on the wound, glistening.
Alara stared at those angry fingerprints and the scratch marks of her anger. She’d never lost her cool before, ever. Panic that she was losing control of herself made her body feel heavy. Order was something she’d craved. Her entire life was built upon structure, but that was one aspect of being royal she never resented. Order meant predictability, which meant safety.
Still reeling inside from what she’d done, she took a few slow steps toward the door, stumbling over the leg of a chair. “I…” Her cheeks heated. “I’m sorry.”
Nik watched her without blinking, brows stooped with concern. She knew she was in for an earful of questions later.
A pale figure caught her attention from the corner of her eye, and Alara looked up to see Penelope standing in the doorway. She hadn’t even heard the witch arrive. Sometimes, it frightened her how stealthy the creatures could be.
Penelope always reminded her of the Snow Queen. With her long white hair and ice-blue dress—her favorite color, it seemed, since that was the only color Alara had ever seen her wear—coupled with her sparkling snow-white complexion and blue eyes, Alara couldn’t help but look at her and shiver. Penelope’s personality, thankfully, was far from that of a snow queen. Warmth radiated from her, in part from how powerful Alara knew the witch to be. In the world of witches, few magical gifts were as powerful as White Magic, the power of life and light.
Nik at last tore his eyes off Alara and nodded at Penelope. “Hello, Pen. You’re looking well.”
Her eyes raked Nik down and back up. “Back at you.”
Alara squelched the growl that started to rise in her throat. She had to get a grip on her anger before she did something she regretted.
Still, the wolf in her kept the White Witch on her radar as she stepped forward.
“Penelope, creepy shape-shifting asshole. Creepy shape-shifting asshole, Penelope,” Nik said, gesturing between the witch and the doppelgänger. “Penelope will determine if you are what you say you are and if you’re telling the truth in general.” Nik crouched in front of the girl so they were eye level. She flinched, pressing her back against the chair as much as she could. “For your sake,” Nik said in a low voice, “I sure as hell hope so. You don’t want me to have to return.”
With a gruff nod to Penelope, who watched the interaction with raised brows, Nik spun on his heel and strolled from the room. He caught Alara’s wrist on the way out, pulling her along with him.
Out in the hallway, he tugged her to a stop and turned her to face him. “Care to explain what that was back there?”
“What what was?” Alara asked lightly, looking anywhere but at him. Her teeth ground together as she strained to keep her blush at bay.
“How you almost ripped a girl’s throat out, for starters,” Nik said in a low voice. He gazed at her intently. The worry was plainly written in the tightness of his expression.
Alara raised her chin and met his eyes. “I’ll explain when you tell me what’s been bothering you. You’ve been tense ever since the bonfire, when you first came back from your meeting with Gage.”
Nik blinked and then smiled. He kissed her forehead. “Sometimes I forget I can’t get anything by you. I’m not used to having people read me like a book.”
She softened at the kiss, pressing a fingertip into his broad, muscular chest. “You’d better get used to it, mister. I mean, Your Highness.”
His eyes narrowed, glittering with mischief. “Careful, love. Wouldn’t want to have to punish you. You know I hate all that formality bullshit.”
Alara stepped closer, pressing her breasts against him. She trailed her finger down his sternum and stomach, circling his navel before slowly proceeding south. He sucked in a gasp as her fingertip discreetly dipped below his waistline to his crotch, where the fabric was starting to tighten. “I’d say it depends on what kind of punishment you have in mind,” she whispered silkily.
He growled a sigh, leaning in.
No matter how many times they touched, the warmth of his mouth always set her on fire. She closed her eyes, leaning into him as his tongue grazed hers, stroking it as his lips worked their magic in slow, savoring movements. She was stunned a little when he at last pulled away. Her eyes fluttered open, a sense of contented bewitchment making her thoughts slow.
He watched her, a slow grin lighting up his face.
Alara suppressed a smile and swatted at his arm. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
She started to walk back toward the dungeon to listen to the interrogation, but Nik caught her hand. She looked at it and then at him, raising a brow.
The cocky glimmer was gone from Nik’s eyes, replaced by the serious look he got when he meant business. “Not just yet, killer,” he said, easing her toward the stairs.
She resisted at first, glancing over her shoulder at the dungeon and wanting so badly to hear what the doppelgänger had to say. “What if we miss something important?” What if I miss something that could help me find the woman who ordered my family’s deaths? she thought to herself.
“If anything of immediate importance comes up, Gage has promised to notify me.”
“You talked to Gage?”
He tapped his temple as they ascended the stairs. “Through the were-bond. It’s especially strong between us since he’s both our High King now and my brother by blood.”
“Oh,” was all she could think of to say. Disappointment settled on her shoulders, but she resisted the biting urge to argue. “Where are we going?”
That wicked, mischievous glint she’d grown to adore flashed across her beloved’s eyes. “To do some investigating.”
Penelope curiously stared at the creature in front of her. While she was a big witch and could handle herself, she couldn’t help but fee
l more exposed to the creature since Gage, Nik, and Alara had left, Gage to call the DPI and check on his mate, the worrywart, and Alara and Nik, who the hell knew? Danica must have been too freaked out to come inside the dungeon. Penelope had spoken with her in the hall when she’d first arrived, where the were queen was waiting patiently for her mate. Penelope couldn’t blame Danica—the doppelgänger made her whole body rigid with tension.
She’d heard of doppelgängers, of course. Had she seen one? No, even being as old as she was. White Witches often lived extended lives thanks to their regenerative powers. She’d thought she’d encountered every manner of strange creature in the Underworld, but this one downright fascinated her.
The girl stared back at her without blinking, a slight smile on her face. It was unnerving, like a wax doll’s smile. Those damn things had always creeped her out.
Snap out of it. Act like the professional you are.
Summoning a camera from thin air with a pop and a flash of white light, she muttered a levitation spell. The object hovered in the air, suspended in front of the dungeon, its lens aimed at the doppelgänger and Penelope. With a flick of her wrist, Penelope had it recording.
She cleared her throat and walked around the girl, circling her once. “What is your name?”
A grin. “Which one?”
Penelope raised a brow, stopping in front of the girl and crossing her arms. “You think this is a game? That the wolves won’t kill you?”
“Doesn’t matter. I can always find a new body.” She looked Penelope over as she said it.
A chill crawled up Penelope’s spine. She had the sense the creature in front of her wasn’t exactly evil, but it wasn’t entirely good, either. It simply… was. It did what it needed to in order to survive.
