Bound by Fate (Moon Bound Series Book 1)

by Mandy Lou Dowson

  It wasn’t as easy as she’d hoped, and at one point she did indeed think she was going to get stuck half way, but she finally managed to shimmer. Her wolf-form broke the surface and her human body, with all its frailties slipped away along with the cuffs. Wriggling out of her human clothes was just as difficult and she twisted a paw in the process when she got it caught in a strap, but she had done it. She was free. She was also fully alert and ready to run.

  Sniffing as she slipped through the gap in the doorway, she determined that Bradley wasn’t far away. A long corridor was laid out before her, doorways dotted on either side. She heard a splashing noise up ahead, and saw that another door was slightly ajar. Bradley was evidently preparing a bath for her. Moving as quickly as she could while trying to remain quiet was aided by the fact that the corridor was covered in several layers of dirt and debris. She paused as the splashing stopped, with her heart in her throat. The bath was ready. She could smell the aromatic oils he’d poured into the water, and could hear his footsteps scuffling around the room.

  Darting ahead, she barely managed to clear the doorway before Bradley swept through it, whistling merrily. Belly low to the floor, she stilled, and hoped against hope that he didn’t bother to look in her direction. Her prayers were answered when he sauntered toward the only other open door in sight. Her cell. Before he reached the door, she’d crept up to the far end of the corridor and found a stairway to her right, leading up. With her heart thumping a terrified rhythm, she took the steps as swiftly as she was able, scrabbling once as her paws slipped off the edge of a stair.

  At the top was another door, and this one was closed tightly. Mind in a whirl, she shimmered, finding it came easier to her this time around. In a matter of seconds she was through the door and into the house beyond. It was the Great House – not that she’d thought otherwise. Where else would he have built his little dungeon only under the roof of his own home, the better to have access to whomever he kept in those rotting cells. Her bare feet slipped on the tiled floor of the kitchen, as she made a bee-line for the back door. Hearing an almighty roar echoing from the cells below, she knew she was out of time. She had to get out of here, now.

  Once she was through the door, there was no reason to stay in human-form, so she shimmered and took off, setting a hard pace. By the time she heard him crashing through the splintered remains of his own back door, she was zooming past the stream and entering the clearing beyond. A growl alerted her to the fact that he was gaining on her fast. As she swerved to avoid a tree stump, she caught him in her peripheral vision, no further than ten yards behind, his anger fueling his speed. For her part, terror made her run fast, but it also made her stupid. She stumbled on exposed roots, and tripped over a fallen log, crashing into the undergrowth in a pile of limbs. She yelped once, loudly and heard Bradley howl as he closed even more of the distance.

  Regaining her footing, she took off into the woods, praying for the twilight to last long enough to help disguise her as she fled. In darkness or light, her coat shone too brightly, but in the mixed up world of twilight, where everything seemed tinged with blue or lavender, she could blend in amongst the surroundings. Eventually she had to rest, panting and over-heated. She took a quick drink from the stream and tried to orient herself. She’d been running flat out for at least an hour now, and the surroundings all seemed the same.

  Somewhere to the left a twig snapped loudly and she knew Bradley wasn’t far away. Turning tail, she started to run again. Having no idea what directions she was taking, only fleeing from every sign of pursuit, she was shocked to realize she was headed for that same fallen log she’d jumped over twice already. Damn it, she’d been running in circles, herded like cattle, or prey. She’d played directly into Bradley’s hands, and now, tired and despairing, he closed in on her.

  Please, she prayed to the Great Mother, let it be quick.

  Bradley strode toward her, all black furred menace and anger. Beth froze, unsure. Should she keep running until exhaustion wore her down, or should she resign herself to her fate? Shimmering, he towered above her wolf-form, unsmiling, his eyes snapping fire. “Things could have gone an entirely different direction, had you just accepted me as your mate,” he whispered, tones of mock regret in his deep voice.

  Beth growled, informing him in the only way she could, what she thought of that idea. Even if she had mated with him, she had the unsettling feeling that it would end this way some day, when he’d had enough of one desire fulfilled. She backed up slowly, her paws landing softly on the earth and sinking in the moist depths of moss and old bark. The scents of the forest rose up around her, reminding her of home, and she whimpered softly.

  “I would say there was no need to be afraid, but I think we’re past that now,” he carried on, approaching her one slow step at a time. “You should never have run from me, Beth. It never works out well.” Suddenly his face split in a delighted grin. “But this time, at least I’ll get to finish you personally.”

  Frozen to the spot, nowhere left to turn and with a tree stump behind her, Bradley in front and only light brush to either side, Beth growled deep in her throat. This was it. She was ready to die – she only hoped she could force him to do it quickly. Her being in wolf-form and Bradley being in human-form gave her an advantage and meager as it might be, she’d take it. Glancing at his manhood where it hung soft and vulnerable, she made ready to leap, tensing her hind quarters, hunching her shoulders, keeping her head low but her eyes always on her target.

  A split second before she could make her move, a giant wolf leaped over the fallen log and latched onto Bradley’s calf, tearing and ripping at the thick muscle. The wolf’s black coat glistened in the near-dark as he savaged the Alpha’s leg, growling loudly as the man roared – more in anger than pain, Beth thought, shaken. Bradley brought his huge interlocked fists down on the wolf’s shoulders, and the wolf, yelping like a pup released him, backing away warily.

  One minute the black wolf stood there, hunched – with eyes burning a hole in the Alpha’s face – the next moment a man emerged from his shimmer, naked but still hunched.

  Donovan, covered in his own father’s blood, raised himself to his impressive height, although she noticed he was still a full head shorter than his father.

  His eyes flicked to Beth for a split second before he spoke to his domineering father. “I won’t let you do this,” he stated, voice cold and remote.

  “You won’t stop me,” Bradley replied amiably. “You are my son, and I am your Alpha. You’re not really going to sacrifice your place in the pack, your entire future, for…this?” he motioned to Beth with a dismissive flick of his eyes.

  “There is no future in what you’re doing.” The statement was final and Beth could tell by his entire stance that Donovan would not back down.

  “So be it,” Bradley announced, crouching. “You should never have challenged me, Son.”

  “I’m not challenging you,” he replied quietly, sadness shining in his eyes.

  Both Beth and Bradley frowned, not understanding, until a voice called softly from the darkness, “I am.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Beth’s heart leaped as Gareth stepped from the shadows, holding his rage close to him, nursing it like a day old cub. Beth could smell it coming from him in waves, and she had no doubt that Bradley could too. The fact that he took time to compose himself before he replied, spoke volumes. “And you would be…?”

  “I am hers,” Gareth replied, his gaze never leaving the Alpha Male before him. “And she is mine,” he concluded.

  Bradley’s face cleared of confusion and he laughed, a great booming sound that bounced from tree trunk to stream and back. “Ah, I see. Well I accept your challenge.” He narrowed his eyes, sizing up the difference between himself and Gareth. Where Gareth was lean and muscled, Bradley was huge and brawny. It was like David and Goliath, and Beth knew what Bradley would say before he opened his mouth. “Human-form.”

  “Very well,” Gareth accepte
d with dignity. Beth watched him as he stretched, loosening his muscles. He really was a specimen of perfection, and even in the middle of all of this horror, she could appreciate his form. He wore a loose fitting pair of fatigues with tightly laced boots and a forest green tank top. His skin glistened with a light sheen of sweat, and his eyes warmed briefly upon meeting her gaze.

  The two combatants circled each other warily, each intent on bringing the other down. Gareth seemed to see everything, from the cruel twist of Bradley’s lips to the way he held his injured leg back, favoring his left. Bradley, no slouch in the violence department figured he had it all worked out, or so Beth imagined, as his mouth formed a taunting grin. “Come on, let’s see if you have what it takes.”

  Gareth said nothing, only thinned his lips in determination and feinted towards Bradley’s left, which Bradley immediately moved to intercept. Like she already knew, he was no slouch, and quick besides. With a grunt, Bradley swung, intending on taking Gareth’s head off, but his giant fist met air, as Gareth had already retreated and moved slightly to his own left, to deliver a punishing blow to the Alpha Male’s ribcage.

  Grunting in pain, Bradley lowered an arm to protect his ribs as he made an all out assault upon the other man, fists flying, spittle bubbling on his lips. He was slower than usual, thanks to the ragged wound in the meat and muscle of his right leg courtesy of his own son, and Gareth was using it to his advantage. Connect, and retreat, feint and misdirect, connect and retreat. Little by little, her Bonded was getting the better of the huge man.

  Beth winced as Gareth lost his footing on an overturned rock, taking a forceful jab to the temple before moving back out of range. Another couple of those, and he’s finished, Beth thought with her heart beating like something caged. She could see him shake his head, as if to dislodge something, and she knew at once the punch had had more force behind it than she’d first thought. His reactions were slower, though not by much, and his eyes seemed just a little wilder, as if he were having trouble focusing.

  Just as Bradley connected another punch to Gareth’s gut, knocking the wind from him, Beth made to run into the foray, but Donovan quickly grabbed a hold of her ruff, whispering harshly, “we cannot interfere, this is pack law.”

  She didn’t care one whit for pack law right then. This was a fight to the death, and she knew for damn sure that if Bradley won, they’d all die. Why doesn’t Donovan realize this?

  Both men were grappling in close quarters now, Bradley with his massive arms wrapped around Gareth like a serpent, slowly squeezing the life from him. Gareth managed to slip one hand upward, wrapping it around the older man’s thick throat. With a gasp, Bradley broke free, releasing Gareth. They watched each other’s every breath intently, waiting for a sign of weakness. Even with his torn leg, Bradley seemed to have the upper hand, and Gareth, growing wilder and wilder each second, was losing focus in his anger.

  In a quick flurry, Gareth rushed the other man, rage driving him on, and Bradley grunted as a series of jabs broke his nose, and split his lip. It was more a luck than skill, as he took the Alpha by surprise, but it leveled the scoring field. A thin rivulet of blood would its way from a scalp wound to drip into the man’s eye, compromising his vision and he took a second to swipe his open palm across his brow. Gareth took the opening, shooting in for another series of attacks, but it was a feint by Bradley.

  He ought to have known better. Even Beth knew better than to trust an opponent taking his eyes off you. If the in was blatant, it wasn’t natural. Not in a dominance fight, not when there was so much at stake. When Gareth was close enough, Bradley once again folded him into a tight hug, this time leaving no room for him to wriggle anything loose, but Gareth wasn’t done yet. As the Alpha grunted with effort, trying to quash the life from Gareth, he snapped his head forward, once, twice, three times. The Alpha stumbled back, obviously dazed, and Gareth closed in, murder in his eyes.

  Through sheer dumb luck, Bradley managed to catch Gareth with a swinging arm, knocking him sideways, while he regained his composure. She could see the toll this was taking on both men, and longed for Donovan to loosen his grip so that she might finish it for them both by opening up his femoral artery. In a split second, Gareth had regained his footing and came back at Bradley spitting mad.

  Bradley, still blinded in one eye by the stream of blood coming from his scalp, swung a fist and missed by an inch, the momentum of the blow carrying him forward until he ended up on his knees. In one swift movement, Gareth was there, his hands again wrapped around the bigger man’s throat, watching as his face first turned red, and then purple, while his eyes goggled in shock.

  Beth quivered with relief. It was over. Bradley was almost dead, and Donovan released her slowly, head falling forward. No matter the things he’d done, Bradley was still his father, and he was bound to feel conflicted, especially about his own role in the Alpha’s demise. She nudged Donovan with her head, trying to convey her sympathies for all that had happened. He nodded to her once, and she returned her gaze to Gareth and the dying Alpha.

  Gareth’s face was a mixture of surprise and pain, his mouth open in an “O” as he gasped. Beth followed the line of his body with a frown, a short yelp breaking free as she noticed Bradley’s hand, half formed into a claw, buried deep within Gareth’s midriff, so that even as he died, he brought his killer with him.

  The last sight Bradley Tall Grass saw before he died with a gurgle, was Beth’s jaws descending upon his throat to rent and tear the life from him. She worried the flesh back and forth, the head shaking like a rag doll’s, until at last, she felt him go still beneath her. His clawed hand slipped free of Gareth’s body and he slumped backward, holding the wound. Blood seeped through, soaking his clothes and dripping to the ground in soft drip-drip-drip’s. Beth’s shimmer ended with a very human scream torn from her throat as she rushed to cradle his head.

  Donovan, she noticed, had fled.

  “No, no,” she pleaded, broken. “Don’t leave me, please.”

  “Beth,” he gasped, raising a bloodied hand to her cheek and cupping it gently. “I came for you.”

  “Please, please, please, please…” She held his hand to her cheek as she sobbed and begged, rocking his limp body. “Don’t, please, don’t leave me.” Heaving sobs tore free of her as she watched the light fade in his eyes. “Shimmer,” she told him angrily. “Heal yourself!”

  “Can’t,” he whispered on a sigh. “It’s not…as easy for…others…as it is…for you.”

  She remembered the last time he’d said that to her, the night in the derelict Den House, just before she’d invited him to share her bed, which had started this whole mess. “Please,” she begged again. “Just try.”

  “Quickly!” Margo rasped in the darkness. “You must help him.”

  “I don’t know how!”

  Donovan had returned, cradling the old woman to his chest as he ran flat out, breath heaving. He set her down gently on the fallen log a few feet away and she frowned in thought. “There is only one way,” she admitted. “Though it may not work.”

  “Tell me, please!” Beth was in full blown panic mode, and Gareth was weakening by the minute. He could barely lift his eyes to meet hers and she’d already taken the full weight of his arm in order to hold his hand to her cheek, where his fingers occasionally twitched.

  “You must take him to mate,” Margo explained, putting a hand up to stop Beth’s frantic question of how that would help. “You know the ritual. Take him to mate and ask the Great Mother for her blessing.”

  “What? I don’t see how–”

  “Quickly, I said! He doesn’t have long left in him. A true Blessing may help him.” Her tired eyes shut tight as she nodded to Donovan. “Fetch the Healer,” she told him. “We may have need of him if this works.”

  Trying desperately to come up with the words, and failing miserably, Beth sobbed, putting all her emotion and fear into one, long shriek.

  “Hush, child,” Margo told her harshly. “Bre
athe. Breathe.” She regulated her own breathing, in, one-two-three, out, one-two-three. “Slowly. Think of the words, feel them.”

  Beth slowed her breathing to match the elderly woman’s, and thought furiously about the ceremony she’d attended only nights before. Suddenly the fog in her mind lifted and she began to utter the words.

  “I ask you to witness as I take this man to mate,” she whispered fiercely. “I say to you, that he is my one, true, mate and I will hold no other above him, but for the Great Mother herself. And I ask her blessing on this union.”

  Gareth’s eyes widened slightly, and he gazed at her in adoration. All the love he felt for her swam to the surface and for the first time, Beth didn’t have to wonder how he felt, for she could sense it, smell it, and feel it.

  “Witness me,” he whispered, garbling the words slightly. Beth wondered if that would matter, or if the sentiment was all that counted. “As I take…Beth to mate. She is my one…true love. My…mate. Bless us, Great Mother.”

  When nothing happened, her heart shattered and Beth leaned in close, tasting his breath. She pressed her lips to his softly, crying openly. “Don’t cry,” he told her with a grimace. “I hate…making you…cry.”

  “You never made me cry,” she lied, smiling sadly.

  “Liar,” he whispered, nostrils flaring. Even now he was reading her every emotion in her scent, so attuned to her, was he, and she loved him with all her heart for it. “I love you,” she whispered as his eyes drifted closed.

  She held him until his heart stopped beating, sobbing softly on his shoulder, curled up beside him on the soft earth. “It is done, girl,” Margo told her, rising. “There is nothing that can be done for it now.”

  “I know,” she replied, feeling her tears burn a path down her cheeks. “I know.”