Thrown To The Wolf (Pack Heat Book 3)

by Sam Hall

  “What are you complaining about? Easy is good,” Slade said. “I get you’ve got some whole other trip going on, but we want out of here as soon as we can. This place makes me fucking sick.”

  “Complete agreement here. We can’t afford to tackle the Volken head on,” Jack said. “This is like a god given gift.”

  “But which god?” Sylvan said, mostly to himself.

  “So, we’ve got what? A day to locate Max and get him on board, and then we break the rest out,” Aaron said. “You were able to heal Rhydian, Jules, so tomorrow, we assess everyone else and see who needs seeing to. The guys are on board. They’re talking to the others, getting them ready for what’s coming, and will report any that are likely to be a problem to me. We’re going to need clothes and food and supplies to get us out of here. Can you handle that, Sylvan?”

  “Of course,” he muttered. “They think we’re going to protect them from the Great Rite’s slaughter. The people here will give us the shirts from their own backs for that.”

  Brandon took my hand, his eyes burning as they stared into mine. We knew exactly what was coming, something the rest of the pack seemed determined to ignore. I wasn’t sure what we could do about it, the scale of the massacre was epic. I thought of Tsarra and Adam, Conal and even Maud. There was no guarantee any of them would survive.

  “So maybe we should coordinate a complete evacuation,” Brandon said. He straightened in his chair, staring down the rest of the pack as they looked at him with mixed expressions of frustration and irritation.

  “We don’t have time for—” Jack said.

  “You didn’t see what’s coming,” he said.

  “Brandon, we can’t—” Aaron said.

  “You could use this to your advantage. Who’s going to see us if we’re in a huge group leaving Leifgart? People will get hurt, killed, and it’ll put a target on their back, they’d need to know that before making a move, but we could at least tell them. They are going to rape and kill kids, love. We…we saw them do it, heard their screams. These people are irredeemable fucking monsters, and they are going to go on a rampage to strengthen their god so he can punch a hole through the portal and do the same to us. We need to remove as much potential fuel as possible, to keep Sanctuary safe.”

  I squeezed his hand. With a quiet, almost expressionless tone, he managed to make a case to the rest of the pack that I would never have been able to. Sylvan’s eyes jerked up at this, shining with a light I rarely saw within them.

  “That does make sense,” Aaron said with a nod. “What do the rest of you think?”

  “How do we get the word around? Wouldn’t people be awfully suss if a bunch of newcomers said ‘hey, time to get out of town’?” Jack said.

  “It won’t come from you,” Sylvan said, getting to his feet. “I told them of a prophecy to make things easier when I came back with you. Looks like now is the time to pretend it's true.”

  He left us not long afterwards, and we finished our meal in silence. I was dying for a wash after the sauce and smoke of the spit room, along with the stench of the cells, but that wasn’t in the cards here. The toilet was a simple latrine, all water had to be pumped and carried, so to bed it was. Hawk curled around Jack as soon as they lay down on the floor, Brandon and Slade waving me over so that I took my place between them. Finn looked like he was going to join us before turning back to the door.

  “C’mon,” Aaron said, rummaging in his bag. He took out a bottle of spirits and waved it at the other man. “I snaffled it from the kitchens.”

  Finn just nodded and filed out.

  “Is he going to be OK?” Slade asked.

  “I don't know,” I replied, remembering his hands clinging to the bars of the cell. “You just want to go with him and take a drink of that bottle.”

  “Volken piss? Not a chance. I want you to tell me about that dream.”

  Slade lay on his side, looking down at Brandon and me, the moon spilling in through the curtains and over the side of his face. So, we did.

  It was hard to try and encapsulate the entirety of what we’d seen. So much of it was felt viscerally, and I found that words were kind of hopeless to describe a massacre of that scale. Like, how could you use the same words to ask for a cup of tea or talk about the weather to describe something like that? How did I make clear the way the kids’ screams felt like they slashed through every nerve in my body, leaving them bleeding in their wake? But we tried, and the mood in the room grew sombre.

  “Fuck,” Hawk said. “These cunts are fucking monsters.”

  “I might feel like warmed over shit,” Jack said. “But no one is sleeping after that.” He crawled over to us, dragging Hawk with him. They were like two lions—one golden, one dark—as they prowled closer. I felt conflicted as they approached, the same surge of attraction and want I felt for each of them rising but sitting uncomfortably with a deep sense of guilt. I could have that—a pack, love, lust, need. What of the guys in the cages or the people who served the Volken?

  “Stop overthinking, love,” Jack said, placing a kiss on my forehead before collapsing down into our rapidly forming puppy pile.

  “What we have is a gift from the Great Wolf herself,” Hawk said, doing the same.

  “How do you know what I was thinking?” I asked.

  “Because I was doing the same,” Hawk replied.

  28

  “You’re the girl taking his lordship’s breakfast to him?”

  I stood where I’d been told to, holding the elaborate silver tray with its toast in a rack and silver butter knife next to a pat of butter with the shape of a wolf pressed into it. Bacon, eggs, tomatoes, pretty much every kind of breakfast food had been placed on the platter to tempt Lord Lian.

  “Yes, m’lord, if it pleases you, m’lord.”

  I didn’t see the Volken standing before me, since I kept my eyes on his belt buckle, but I heard his chuckle. That same self-satisfied noise fuckwits like this always seemed to do in movies. Next he’d be twirling his moustache or something.

  “Come this way then,” he said, and then turned to lead me into the upper levels of the main building.

  Lian and several other high ranking Volken occupied the place we’d served in yesterday, each taking a floor above the grand banqueting hall. Lian’s was the highest up, reflecting his status and security needs.

  I watched the Volken’s arse as we climbed. He made no concession to my burden, but I’d waitressed for many years, so this was no big deal. He stopped at a foyer before a great iron-bound door.

  “Let’s see what we have here.”

  The man whisked the cover off the tray, snatched up a fork, and speared a few items on the end.

  “Open up,” he said, and I opened my mouth as directed. Each woman that took Lian his tray was required to taste a random morsel of food, in case it was poisoned. While they thought the servants were capable of it, the Volken assumed they were less likely to do so to one of their own. I swallowed the weird combination of food and then opened my mouth, eyes down as the Volken made sure I’d eaten it all. “Well, nothing fast acting,” he said. “More’s the pity. You go in and to his Lordship’s bedroom. You knock three times, announce yourself, and wait for him to grant you entry. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What’s happened to the regular girl, then? What was her name?”

  “Arden, sir? She’s come down with the bloody flux, sir.”

  “Has she indeed?” He seemed inordinately pleased by this. “Well, in you go.”

  I bobbed a quick curtsey and then waited for the man to open the door.

  It was big, that was my first impression, the living space largely open plan with plush couches and scatter cushions, a huge fireplace, and what looked like a training area complete with a padded floor, fight dummies lined against the wall, and weapons hanging from hooks. I stopped for a moment, taking a breath and trying to steady my hands, as I looked for the bedchamber, when I heard the sound. Low and guttural, the
moan tugged me forward until I came to another heavy door. There was a thin, high bench there, obviously for placing trays, so I set it down and knocked three times.

  “He won’t have men in his private quarters,” Adam had said. “That pet of his only earned the privilege recently. He’s one of the biggest power brokers in the city, and he protects his position with everything he has. Only ones allowed in are human women, doesn’t see them as a threat obviously. Likes to peacock, the girls say. You’ll probably find him balls deep in that Max when you get in there. Favourite way to wake up.”

  Finn didn’t give anything away, he’d just stood there perfectly still as Adam filled us in. We’d nodded and did as he instructed.

  “Who’s there?” a voice called from behind the door, only a slight waver in it to indicate what was going on.

  “Julie, m’lord,” I replied. We figured a false name was a waste of time. “I have your breakfast tray.”

  “Bring it in and set it on the side table, then wait until I am ready to be served.”

  This is it, go time, I told myself. I took a deep breath, turned the knob, and then grabbed the tray, sweeping in.

  I’d tried as hard as I could to prepare myself for what I was going to see. I knew Max was probably Finn’s bio dad, not that Sanctuary cared about that, and that they looked very similar. I knew the Volken were sick little fucks, and Lian, being at the top of the tree, had to be one of the sickest. But even then, I didn’t expect to look out onto a panoramic view of the surrounding lands of Leifgart through windows filling one whole wall of Lian’s suite. That, and some elaborate construction of pulleys and ropes hanging from what looked like a well-used hook from the rafters of Lian’s bedroom, with a very naked, very hard Max on full display.

  I glanced over for a second before moving to the table opposite to the foot of the bed and found a space to put down the tray before tidying the surface, folding paperwork and putting books into a neat pile. I followed the procedures Adam had drilled into my head. A scrape of butter on each slice of toast and no more. Tea with a slice of lemon only, leave the diffuser in to steep. Slice the tomato in half and sprinkle lightly with pepper and salt, but none was to touch the meat. Anything was worth focussing on but Max.

  But of course, my mind didn’t play that way. As I recounted the instructions like a mantra in my head, the crystal clear image of Max shouldered forward. His wrists held by ropes out and above his head like he was shouting hooray. His torso and legs criss-crossed, the warm brown skin contrasting with the stark black of the coils, his body suspended at just the right height for Lian. His thickly muscled legs held spread wide, no coy leg crossing for Max, forcing him open to admit Lian.

  The sound of a man’s flesh slapping against another man filled the room along with the woody, musky scent of sex. I ignored the lot of it, or tried to give the appearance of it, moving in the proscribed ways until everything was exactly as it should be. Then I stood, hands clasped, head down, eyeing the two of them out the corner of mine.

  Max’s face was a mask, of agony or ecstasy, I couldn’t tell. I didn’t want to tell, I just didn’t want to be here. Whether he felt pleasure or pain as Lian speared into him, his hand encircling Max’s cock, it wasn’t relevant, I quickly realised. This was spectacle, display, a thoroughly horrible variant of the dominance fuck people talked about in Sanctuary. Because that’s what Lian was doing, with his perfectly formed buttocks and slow and leisurely pace, he was showing us how little regard he had for my comfort or for Max’s, for his desire, or Lian’s nakedness. Being unclothed before people you don’t know made most feel vulnerable, but not Lian. He gloried in it, in the way the morning sun licked the hard lines of his body, picking out his every movement. He started going ever so slightly faster with greater vehemence, until finally, his fingers dug into Max’s hips as he emptied himself inside him.

  “Come,” Lian said mildly as he pulled out while Max did in a series of uncomfortable looking twitches.

  “You may serve me,” Lian said, wiping his dick off with a spare cloth and then tossing it to the floor. I’d been warned about this and dropped a curtsey, then picked up the lap table and waited patiently as he got back into bed before placing it over him.

  “You’re the blowsy girl,” he said as I moved to get the tray.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You sent Arden to the high table for us.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I hadn’t, but I figured he wasn’t especially keen on hearing no.

  “Were our efforts a little strenuous for her? Is that why she is not here serving me today?”

  She was laid up, probably with a perforated bowel from the vague yet disgusting descriptions her mother had given Adam, which would mean she would die in a place like this.

  “I wouldn’t know, sir,” I said, about to place the tray onto the lap table.

  His hand shot out and closed around my wrist, causing me to freeze as the fingers tightened. I stayed as still as possible as he put pressure on the bones there, until it felt like they ground against each other.

  “My lord,” he said.

  You stupid bitch, Jules.

  “I’m so sorry, Your—”

  “Spare me,” he said, the clipped words stopping my babbling outright. He leant back, and I arranged the tray just as Adam had coached me before stepping back.

  “Well done,” Lian said with the kind of neutral dismissiveness only elites seemed to manage. “You’ve been instructed in how to let my pet down and take him for his ablutions?”

  I nodded quickly.

  Red cord, Red cord, remember the red cord, I told myself.

  “Pull the red cord slowly and lower him to the ground. He’s been up there for some time, so his extremities have been weakened. He won’t be able to support his own weight initially, so you must.”

  “Of course, m’lord.”

  I strode over to the ‘play’ side of the room, avoiding the wide array of equipment, some obvious in their purpose, others looking like weapons of war rather than pleasure. Max looked at me blearily, those green eyes struggling to focus, something I remembered all too well, though in a completely different setting. I wanted to reassure him, say something to replace the blank look in his eyes, but instead, I did as I was told and slowly pulled the red cord. It was a tricky balancing act, putting Max back on his feet and then rushing in to hold him upright.

  “You’re quite strong,” Lian said as I grasped Max’s torso, then slung his arm across my shoulder. How the hell Arden managed to manoeuvre a one hundred-twenty kilo Tirian male around, I had no idea. “I might have use for you.”

  “Of course, m’lord,” I said, trying to affect a convincing wheeze, then I took a step forward, Max’s feet stumbling along with me, and he hissed with pain as he moved.

  The walk out of the bedroom and into the bathroom was slow, tedious, and ultimately a relief. Out from under the eagle eye of Lord Lian, I felt like I could actually breathe. I helped Max sit down on a stool beside the bath, apparently for just this purpose, and shut the door before filling the bath. While most of the city did not have running water, the Volken wasted power on magically providing it to this building. I searched the shelf above it, looking for the red bath salts, and measured out precisely a cup before scattering them across the water’s surface. Max struggled to get to his feet when I finally stopped the water at three-quarters full, but I moved in to help him in.

  “I come from Finn. I am his mate.”

  The words were little more than a breath in the quiet of the bathroom, but the tension in Max’s body was immediate. I ignored that, helping him put one foot, then another into the bath, before lowering him down.

  “We will free your mates during the Great Rite,” I whispered as I sluiced the water over his body, my voice meshing with the swish of water. I grabbed the soap and washcloth. “We have the support of the Great Wolf. Do we have yours?”

  For a terrifying few seconds, Finn’s dad just stared at me, those green ey
es so familiar yet alien all at the same time. Then he caught my hand as I went to wash his chest, taking the cloth from me before he rasped, “I’d snap that arsehole’s neck like a chicken if I knew my mates were safe.”

  “How was he?” Finn asked me when I returned.

  “Take a seat,” Adam said. “Most of the girls look like this when they come back.”

  “What? He didn’t—”

  “Not to me,” I said. The rest of the sentence hung in the air, unspoken, but heard all the same. Finn swallowed, then shook his head.

  “So, he’s on board?”

  “Said he’ll snap Lian’s neck like a chicken if we can confirm Grey and Rhydian are safe.”

  Finn nodded, but it was a short, abrupt thing.

  “Well, sit tight. I have to speak to the produce man for a moment,” Adam said, clapping Finn on the shoulder. “Bastard keeps trying to rob me, not realising it’s them not me that’ll be on his arse if they find out.” He cracked his knuckles suggestively. “Keep on chopping!” he shouted to the kitchen hands as he swung out the back door.

  “So, what next?” Slade said, leaning over the worktable.

  “We need to find the master keys for the cells to get everyone out,” Aaron said.

  “Means going into the breeding pens,” Brandon said. “It’s only them that opens the cells, to take them to the women.”

  The servant’s entry opened, and some of the serving staff entered. They took a look at us as they hung their bags up and grabbed their pinafores, fastening the ties around their waists.

  “So, we organise with Adam to take the food to the women and children,” Finn said.

  29

  “Wouldn’t catch me going down there,” a woman said, dishing up plate after plate of food to be put on the trolleys we were to push. “‘Specially not with my brothers in tow. Hungry cunts, those ‘uns.”

  Brothers? I looked at the guys, but I guess how else was she going to explain to herself my plentiful supply of man meat?