by Renee Rose
And then he bites me.
~.~
Carlos
Sedona’s yelp of pain brings me back from the brink and I realize my teeth are buried in her shoulder. Mierda.
I disengage my fangs and lap her wound, licking away the blood, providing the healing enzymes of my saliva for her quick recovery. It’s not the actual wound that’s the problem, though. It’s the ramifications of what I’ve done.
Marked her.
She’ll carry my scent for the rest of her life. More than that, I’m bonded forever to her. As much as I may have wanted to fight the elders to set her free, I will now kill anyone who tries to take her from me.
Fuck.
“I’m sorry,” I rasp. I ease my cock from her glorious channel and roll off her. I mean to scoop her into my arms, but she shifts, whether out of fury or pain, I don’t know. “Sedona.”
Her wolf is gorgeous—snow white with silver tipped ears and the palest of blue eyes. Big, healthy. Beautiful. She stalks around the room, moving stiffly like I’ve caused her pain in more places than her shoulder.
Double fuck. I’m the king asshole of the continent.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to mark you, ángel.” I can’t stand to see her pace this way—my need to comfort her is too great, and it’s harder in wolf form. I stand from the bed, and meet her in the center of the room. She swings her head to turn from me. “Sedona, shift.” I infuse every bit of alpha command into my voice. She will be unable to disobey, even though it will make her angry.
She shifts, unfolding from a crouched position, fury blaring from her eyes. She walks forward and slaps me across the face.
I take it. I deserve this. I deserve much worse. I have forever bound her to me after promising to help her get free. “Forgive me. Please.”
Tears swim in her eyes. “What you did can’t be undone, Carlos.”
I bow my head. “I know.”
“What do you know?” she demands.
I know this conversation isn’t going to be productive, but I also know she’s pissed off and needs a way to let it out. I know I want to hold her, to comfort her, but I’m loathe to force my comfort on her if she hates me now.
I turn away from her, frustrated. Fury at el consejo returns. I pick up the iron bed and throw it against the wall where it clatters and falls to its side.
Sedona’s eyes round.
Because there’s nothing else to do, I pick it up and throw it again, this time in the direction of the door. I know these room are made of steel, that I won’t beat my way out, even with an iron bed, but I’m not above trying.
When I pick it up a third time, Sedona shouts, “Stop!” I turn to find her holding her hands over her ears, tears swimming in those beautiful blue eyes.
I storm her, picking her up against my body with an arm around her waist and walking until her back hits the wall. I kiss her, sucking her lips, claiming her mouth with the ownership of a mate. It’s not fair. It’s not right. But she’s mine now. There’s nothing I can do to change that.
My thigh presses between her legs and I don’t stop tormenting her mouth, fucking it with my tongue, mopping it with my lips. I taste her tears and it only fuels this need to consume her, to devour her. To further establish my claim on her because my wolf knows she’s already slipped away.
“Sedona.” I pull back, let her see every ounce of misery in my being. “I won’t apologize again.” I pound the wall beside her head with my fist. “I’m not sorry. Not sorry for claiming you.”
She sucks in her breath, staring at me with wide eyes.
“You are the prize above all other prizes, and I got to you first,” I say through gritted teeth. It’s wrong, but what I’m saying feels so right. Passion blazes bright in my chest, flowing down my limbs. “You belong to me. I’ve taken you. I will never let you go. And I’m not sorry. You are perfect in every way. Smart, talented, beautiful.” I manage to pry my fist open to touch her cheek. “Funny. You are the light to my darkness. You brought me to life. All these years, I’ve been half-dead. It was the only way to survive the pain of my mother’s illness, my father’s death. The heaviness that belongs to my pack. But you—you sparked me back to life. And for that I cannot be sorry. I cannot. So I beg your forgiveness. I do. But I could never regret claiming you. Not in this lifetime, or any other.”
Sedona’s lips tremble. I have no idea what she’s thinking, what she’s feeling. Whether she’s scared of me or wants to cut my balls off. I didn’t lie. I told her the goddamn truth, and if that makes her hate me forever, so be it. At least she knows.
If I weren’t so out of my mind, I would have registered the sound behind me sooner. The door opens. Sedona jerks in fear and a sharp stab lands between my shoulder blades. The last thing I see is a dart land in my female’s chest before we both crumple to the floor.
4
Carlos
I wake in my bedroom. The scent of Sedona is still in my nostrils and I reach for her, but my arms come up empty. The memory of seeing her last returns and I bolt upright with a gasp.
Sedona. Where is my female? The urgency to find her, protect her, nearly makes me shift. If those motherfuckers laid one finger on my female, I will rip them to shreds. I don’t care if I’m banished forever from this pack. Even if it means leaving my poor mother. I will not stand by and let my female be mistreated.
I surge from the bed and throw on a pair of pajama pants before pounding toward the door. A light but rapid tap sounds on it. The door pushes open before I can say pásale.
Juanito bursts in. “Don Carlos, It’s your mother. She’s having a fit. Come quickly.”
Screams reach my ears.
“Déjame!” my mother’s raw voice echoes in the center courtyard. Leave me. Sedona’s fading scent clings to me as I run out and look down into my mother’s garden, the center courtyard the hacienda is built around. Mamá paces alone, her skirts aflutter. The servants huddle at the edges of the garden. She turns in a circle, long grey hair flying. Sweat drips down her face, her eyes are wild.
“Mamá!” I run for the marble stairs and take them two at a time.
My mother doesn’t seem to even hear me. She’s babbling something, as if arguing with demons or ghosts. She tears at her nightdress. “Déjame sola!”
“Mamá!” I reach her and grip her arms, trying to get her wild focus to settle on my face. I don't succeed. She pulls to get away from me. Tears streak her face, once lovely, now sallow with dark circles under her eyes.
I could overpower her, of course, but I can’t bring myself to manhandle my mother. "Mamá, it's all a dream. None of it is real. Look at me. Your son. Look at Carlos."
"Carlos?" Her voice rings with panic. "Where's Carlitos? What have they done with my little boy? They want to kill him, too."
"No, Mamá, I'm right here—Carlos—Carlitos—all grown up. Look at me."
Her unsteady gaze wavers around the courtyard and skips around my face. She reaches out to touch it, her brow wrinkling. "Carlos?"
"Si, Mamá, I'm right here."
She grabs my hand and tries to pull me further into the center of the garden. "Hurry, Carlos. We have to run. Before they get you, too. Every alpha is in danger."
I don't move, forcing her to shift her grip to two hands and tug with all her might. "No, I'm not in danger. I can defend myself. And you. We're safe, I promise. Come—this way." I wrap my palm around hers. "Let's go to your room."
Her eyes widen. "My prison, you mean?" She shakes her head wildly. "That's where they want to keep me quiet. I don't want to go there. I want to leave, Carlos. Take me away from this place."
Pain rips through my chest. Should I find a way to send her back to her own pack? She still hates it here after all these years. But would they even take her? A crazy woman who requires full-time care? Would they provide the level of treatment she requires? I’ve never met anyone from Mamá’s old pack, or any pack other than my own. I feel the wrongness of that deep into my bones. I should've
done it when my father died. Not ten years later. My head aches with the weight of my guilt, my responsibility.
"Okay, I'll take you away from here," I promise, praying I can keep my word. "But I need time to figure out where and how. So let's get you back to your bedroom—"
"Not my bedroom!" she shrieks. "Not there! Don't take me there, Carlos." She's suddenly weeping, like she's the child and I'm the parent.
I pull her against my chest and stroke her tangled hair. "Okay, not your bedroom," I agree. I look around desperately, trying to figure out what else to do with her. "How about a walk in the outer garden with Maria Jose?" I make eye contact with Juanito's mother, Mamá’s servant, and nod.
Maria Jose approaches slowly.
My mother sniffs and pulls away, nodding. "Sí."
My shoulders sag. I tug her hand in Maria Jose's direction. "Maria will keep you safe, Mamá. I'll see you after your walk, all right? I'll see you for breakfast."
After I find Sedona.
My mother toddles away on Maria Jose's arm, but Juanito scuttles over to me. "Don Carlos," he says in a low, urgent tone. He looks around like he's afraid of being seen, and I have no doubt someone is watching, somewhere.
I grip his arm and tug him into the shadows. "Qué cosa?"
"The Americans are here to rescue your female. El consejo—"
The bell in the bell tower starts to toll, signaling the pack of danger. Don Santiago enters. Something about the timing of his appearance seems deliberate. "There you are." His voice is smooth as caramel. "We have a problem. Three large vans breached the outer gate. Prepare to fight for your female."
Ice flushes through my veins as I see their plan. They're banking on my strength to fend off these enemies they brought onto our pack. My mind races. I don’t even know where my female is, and I’m sure as hell not going to fight her family for her. That will not inure the beautiful American to me. With a calmness I don’t feel, I squeeze Juanito’s shoulder. “Run and grab me a shirt, Juanito. I’ll be right behind you.” I turn to Jose. “Gather the males of the pack and tell them to meet on the terrace.” I infuse alpha authority into my voice, even though I know full well my orders mean nothing to this man. The council has been running me now for years. I run up the stairs and meet Juanito at the top, carrying my shirt. I grab it from him and pull it on as I murmur in a low voice. “Where is my female, Juanito?”
“Locked in a guest room in the east wing, Don Carlos.”
“Can you find a way to set her free?”
“I-I don’t know, sir.” Juanito is a smart kid, I know he’ll figure it out.
“I need you to try. Let her out and take her out to her people through the lower gate. Don’t let anyone see you. The future of this pack depends on you, my friend.”
Juanito’s lowered eyes jerk up to mine and I watch honor fill his being. “Yes, sir.” He slips away, quiet and invisible as a ghost.
I head out to the terrace, where the men of our pack are gathering, in from the mines and the fields, watching the white vans wind up the mountain toward the citadel. “We will defend our pack, if necessary, but there will be no violence without a cue from me, understood?” I use every bit of alpha power in my voice, making it boom and project confidence, leadership. The trouble is, these males have never fought with me before, never taken my orders.
Most of them are old. The only younger male shifter in the pack besides myself was Juanito’s brother, Mauca, but he disappeared last year. Ran away, is what they said, but I know Juanito and Maria Jose don’t believe that. There aren’t many other male shifters under the age of fifty, except the defectuosos. They are here, though, armed with machetes, ready to fight as men.
Guillermo, the big wolf who runs the mines is here, along with his men. I can count on them to defend the pack, if it comes to that.
Don Santiago and the rest of the council are here, but they are not preparing to fight. No, they are setting up as if to watch a football match. Granted, they are all over seventy, but shifters live long lives and heal quickly. I think they play the privilege card and the elderly card far too often. As I look at their self-satisfied faces, I want to beat the righteousness out of every one of them.
And what better diversion? Especially with an audience. It’s time to establish exactly who is alpha in this pack. A growl rips from my throat as I stalk over. I grab the first one I get to—Don Mateo—and grasp him by the throat. My fingers wrap right around his chicken neck and I lift him from the ground. “You brought this attack on our pack,” I roar. “You and the rest of the council.”
“Put him down,” Don Jose snarls. He uses his usual superior command, but it falls flat in the face of alpha rage. He turns to the pack. “The boy has inherited some of his mother’s lunacy.”
Oh, fuck no. Of course they’d try that tactic. Make me look insane.
I look around at the council. They might treat me like a treasured pup, but these aren’t the grandfatherly men who raised me. These are powerful wolves. “You purchased a female—an American—stolen from her pack by traffickers. What did you think would happen?”
Don Santiago goes for a smug, unruffled tone. “We thought you would claim her, and we were correct.”
Don Mateo’s face turns red as he struggles to drag in gurgling breaths. His feet kick out uselessly. The men of the pack move in close, crowding around us, but no one—including the other elders—physically challenges me. Together, they could take me down, but not without a lot of bloodshed.
“You locked me in my own dungeon. Disrespected your alpha. Do you think that deed will go unpunished?”
Mateo’s eyes bulge. If I don’t release him soon, he’ll die.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Guillermo step forward. The burly wolf isn’t high in the pack, but with his miners behind him, they could overpower me. If the council gave the order, I could be dead, and my mother with me. I’m surrounded by the pack I’m supposed to lead, and I don’t know who I can trust.
“Tranquilo, Carlos. It was not out of disrespect, but out of love. We provided you with a prize worthy of an alpha like you,” Don Santiago placates.
I drop Mateo not because I’m playing good little alpha for the council, but as much as I’d like to kill him and all the dons, I’m not a murderer. Whirling to face Don Santiago, I let out a ferocious growl. Every wolf around me drops his eyes and shows his throat in submission.
Better.
“Now you disrespect my female. She is not an object, but an alpha she-wolf, capable of tearing out any one of your throats. If any of you ever touch or confine her against her will again, you’re dead. Comprendes?”
“Sí, Don Carlos.” The males of the pack mutter the answer automatically. I’m not sure I hear it from the lips of the elders, but they nod their heads as if in agreement. Lying fuck-toads.
This isn’t finished. Even though I’ve heard what I demanded to hear, I’m not even close to satisfied. “I will consider your punishment,” I growl.
Yeah, I don’t know how that will go down. Will I have the ability to enforce a punishment on council members? I don’t have a fucking clue, but I sure as hell know I’m not going to let them off easy in front of my pack.
Behind me, the pack members shift in discomfort. They are either more loyal to, or more afraid of the council. I get that. I’ve only been back a few weeks. They don’t know me, and it will take time for me to prove myself as a leader. But I certainly intend to do that.
“Later.” Don Santiago points down at the road outside the walls surrounding our citadel. “The Americans have arrived.” The three white vans pull up outside the front portcullis and stop. Their doors open and dozens of muscled wolves pour out, young males in their prime, arms covered in tattoos, weapons in their hands.
~.~
Sedona
The boy who let me out of the bedroom where I was locked beckons me forward. We’re outside the palace or castle—or whatever they call this building. It’s certainly regal enough to be a cast
le. In fact, we’re heading along the same path the men carried my cage on when I arrived. Above us, looms the gleaming building, below us but still within the walls of the enclave are little huts with thatched roofs.
I woke up alone in a canopied bed dressed in a ridiculous flowing robe, like some medieval princess. Fitting as I was locked in a tower. This place is seriously stuck in the seventeenth century.
I tried the door, but it was locked. Pounding on it got me nowhere. Neither did calling for Carlos, but then the boy showed up, put his finger to his lips to silence me and rushed me out of the building.
Now that we’re outside, he speaks to me in Spanish, but I don’t have a clue what he’s saying.
“Juanito?” I ask. “Are you Juanito?”
He stops and turns, and his serious face splits into a grin. “Sí, soy Juanito.” He bobs his head, as if I just did him some great honor by knowing his name. He rattles off something else, but all I catch is “Carlos.”
“Where is Carlos?” I ask. I’m more than a little disappointed to be rescued by the boy instead of the male who marked me last night. It’s stupid, but I feel abandoned. I need to see him. We need to talk about the fact that he marked me, and what it means.
But I guess escaping the crazy council should be the first order of business. Juanito pulls a keycard from a cord around his neck and flashes it against a surprisingly high-tech lock on a gate in the polished adobe wall.
Outside, I hear... English voices.
I surge forward, running toward the sound, and I recognize males from both my brother and father’s packs piling out of three white bus-sized super-vans parked outside a giant portcullis. I have no idea how they found me, but relief nearly drowns me.
My brother senses me coming and whirls. “Sedona?”
