“I’ll leave with you.” Addison gathered her things quickly and eyed Victor. “Now don’t take this the wrong way, but Corbin did say that if you needed backup…”
“Right,” Victor said dryly. “Like the other weres don’t hate me enough. They already think I’m a traitor to my race, all I need is to bring in a fucking four-star vamp to seal the deal.”
“But if it’s going to be that dangerous—” Addison protested.
Victor shook his head decisively. “I don’t think so. Look, it’ll be all right, Addison. I just need to go and take my beating like a good little wolf. Then they’ll leave us alone.”
His words troubled me, but I assumed he meant we would have to bow and scrape and apologize—at least I hoped that was all that would happen. Despite Victor’s warnings, I couldn’t imagine they would actually try to beat either one of us. Would they?
Before I could ask him, we were out the door with Addison on our heels. She got into Corbin’s Mercedes—a big step up from the crappy little Focus she drove back before they were together—and waved at me. Then she made a quick little phone gesture, holding the thumb and pinky finger of her right hand to her ear—call me when it’s over. No more secrets.
I nodded a promise to her—you got it, roomie—and she drove away.
I turned to Victor. “Okay, so where is it? Are we driving somewhere?”
“Nah, we can walk it. It’s the next field over from mine.” He took my hand. “Come on. And whatever you do, stay close to me. The moon is almost full—it’s a bad night for this. A really fucking bad night.”
And with that he pulled me into the wild lands surrounding his house.
Chapter Twenty—Victor
I didn’t know why they called it Skull Rock. It was just a big, flat boulder in the center of the field the local pack used as home base. It had a few cracks and hollows and lumps but none of it looked very fucking skeletal to me. Still, the local weres seemed plenty proud of it, especially Pack Master Wainright and his daughter LeeAnn who stood on one end of the boulder looking important.
The rest of the weres were gathered around the boulder—more than I had thought, actually. There were about thirty males in the pack and twice as many females.
Male weres have a higher mortality rate at birth than females and they also get weeded out by dominance fights and battles over territory. So there are always more females than males in any given pack—which probably explained some of the baleful looks Taylor was getting. The idea of a vamp taking away what they probably thought was a perfectly eligible bachelor male wolf made them livid. Of course, if any of them knew about my curse, they wouldn’t want to touch me with a ten foot pole. But they were ignorant of it and I hoped to keep them that way.
Speaking of the curse, I was worried about it but not as much as I might have been. After being kicked out of my own pack, I had sought out help on my own and found it in the form of an old Hindu holy man who taught Transcendental Meditation. I had spent most of the afternoon meditating and repeating my mantra—I am calm. I am centered. I am one—with the result that I felt a little more in control of myself.
I had let the meditation slide for a long time after moving to Tampa, mostly because the curse hadn’t been bothering me, and anyway, who was I going to hurt if I changed? I lived alone. Now that Taylor was in my life, I realized I needed to get back into it in a big way—even if it didn’t look like she was going to be in it for long. And if you think the idea of a big guy like me sitting in lotus position and saying Ommm is hilarious, let me just tell you that the thing I turn into when the curse hits is not very fucking funny. So it’s worth it.
I’ll be fine, I tried to convince myself as Taylor and I stood hand in hand before the Skull Rock. We both will.
Except the moon was beaming down overhead, only one night from being full and the brand on my lower back was burning like a hot wire buried just under my skin. It was probably glowing as well—which was why I’d made sure to wear a dark shirt—and I could feel the beast moving around in my subconscious, eager to come out. I am calm. I am centered. I am one, I told myself. I can handle this. I have to handle this.
Taylor’s hand was cold in mine—I wasn’t sure if it was because she needed to drink or because she was scared. Either way, I couldn’t really help her. I couldn’t feed her here—it would be seen as the worst kind of insult to the pack. The best I could do was squeeze her hand.
“Gonna be okay, baby,” I murmured from the corner of my mouth. “Just hang in there.”
“I’m trying.” Her voice was soft and uncertain, and I felt my heart twist in my chest. God, how I wanted to protect her! Even if she didn’t feel for me the way I felt for her, I wanted to put myself between her and danger, to keep her from any harm. I swore to myself again that I wouldn’t allow anything to happen to her, wouldn’t tolerate a single person putting so much as a finger on her. She was mine, and I would die to keep her safe.
“Wolves, bitches…and vampire,” Pack Master Wainright began, addressing us all from the rock, which was about two feet high and gave him a definite height advantage. “We are gathered here today to redress a wrong that was committed against your Alpha Bitch, our own LeeAnn Wainright.”
He nodded at his daughter who smiled and made a little curtsy to the assembled weres. I noticed that not many smiled back. Probably, they resented having a young, spoiled brat in such an important position. The pack master leads the pack but the Alpha Bitch sets the tone—I was guessing that the tone LeeAnn was setting wasn’t exactly classy.
Tonight she was wearing what she probably thought of as a sophisticated gown but the way the shiny silver fabric dipped down low enough to practically show her nipples and rode almost up to her crotch just made her look easy. At least in my humble opinion—I’m a guy. What do I know about fashion?
I did know though, that Taylor’s simple black dress with my mom’s pearls looked about a thousand times better. She looked so elegant, so refined—I was proud to have her by my side and I didn’t give a damn that she was a vamp instead of a wolf.
“The person who committed this crime is among us tonight,” the pack master continued, glaring down at Taylor. To her credit, she didn’t cringe or look away—she lifted her chin and glared right back at him. I felt a surge of pride. Her expression said she’d been through a lot and she wasn’t going to take his shit. I squeezed her hand again and she squeezed back.
“She has agreed to offer compensation for her heinous actions,” Wainright said, still trying to stare Taylor down.
She opened her mouth to reply but I beat her to it.
“I am Taylor’s bonded mate,” I said, causing an uneasy murmur to run through the crowd. I caught some of the hostile stares various weres shot at me and shot back a few of my own. Yeah, I’m bonded to a vamp. Fucking get over it. “And as her mate,” I went on, “I will be taking any and all punishments she may have incurred upon myself.”
“Victor!” Taylor protested under her breath. I shook my head and gave her a warning look. She had to let me do this—I couldn’t bear to have it any other way. Couldn’t stand to see anyone hurt her.
The pack master frowned. “That isn’t custom and you know it, Victor.”
“Yeah, but it’s not outside the law, either,” I pointed out. “You want to punish someone, you fucking punish me. Or I swear to God—”
“Very well.” Wainright held up a hand to stop me. “You may ascend the rock,” he said, gesturing for me to step up.
“Taylor’s coming up with me,” I said. “But nobody touches her.” I didn’t like the idea of leaving her all alone in the crowd of hostile weres. We stepped up on the long, flat rock and stood beside Wainright and LeeAnn.
A cool wind blew through the field, ruffling our hair and I felt Taylor shiver. I put an arm around her waist and drew her close, wishing I could feed her and give her some of my warmth.
“Victor…” she whispered and pressed her cheek to my chest. I dropped a quick kiss o
n the top of her head and scented her heat. Despite the dangerous situation we were in, it made me instantly hard. God, how I wanted her alone in the bedroom. Wanted to taste her sweet pussy until she came for me again and again like she had last night…
“Can’t take your hands off that fanger skank for even a minute, can you?” LeeAnn said under her breath—but loud enough for me to hear.
I growled at her, low in my throat. “You offer offense to my wife, you offer it to me.”
“But she shouldn’t be your wife,” she protested, taking a step toward us. “I should. Victor, honey, can’t you see we’re the perfect couple? She’s just got you all bewitched with her vamp magic or something. She—”
“LeeAnn,” Wainright said in a low voice, giving his daughter a stern look. “This is not the time or the place.”
“Sorry, Daddy.” She crossed her arms over her chest, pushing up her breasts in a gesture that managed to be sulky and slutty at the same time.
“Now.” Wainright turned to me. “We have prepared a special punishment that I feel befits the heinous nature of the crime your wife committed against our Alpha Bitch. You will be publicly flogged—”
“What?” Taylor exclaimed. “But you can’t—”
I put a hand on her arm. “Yes, they can. It’s all right, baby—I can handle it.”
“You shouldn’t have to.” There were red-tinted tears in her eyes and an expression of worry and guilt on her face. “This is my punishment, Victor. I don’t want you taking it for me.”
“I have to,” I said and turned to Wainright. “All right. Let’s get it over with.”
“Of course. But I haven’t finished yet.” He gave me a smile that crossed the border from self-satisfied to completely fucking evil. “As I was saying, you will be flogged publicly—thirty strokes with a silver lash.”
I frowned. This was something I hadn’t counted on. Silver tends to leave a permanent scar and is usually saved for only the worst infractions, say, the murder of one pack member by another. Also, it hurts like a son-of-a-bitch. But then, I hadn’t expected to get off easily.
“With a silver whip? You’re planning on using a silver whip on him?” Taylor exclaimed.
Again I put my hand on her arm. “Let’s just get it over with and get out of here.” That was pretty much the only choice we had. There was no way I could fight my way through so many weres and still protect Taylor. I would probably be permanently scarred as a result but hey, I’ve never gotten by on my looks anyway.
I unbuttoned my shirt about three fourths of the way down and shrugged it off my shoulders, baring most of my back but keeping the lower part covered. I could feel the call of the moon and the weight of my curse bearing down on me. I didn’t need the glowing brand giving me away.
“You’re awfully stoic for someone who’s about to get the whipping of his life, my boy,” Wainright remarked. He turned to LeeAnn. “Bring the lash.”
She stepped off the rock for a moment and returned holding a long, shiny red box in both arms that looked like it ought to be wrapped up with a bow. Great, a designer lash. Where did they get the fucking thing, Whips R Us?
LeeAnn took the lid off the box and pulled out a black leather whip with a braded handle and six long leather strands hanging from the end. On the tip of each strand pieces of jagged silver metal gleamed in the moonlight. She held it up in front of me and I had to fight not to recoil.
It wasn’t that I was afraid of being whipped—I’d been branded by my own pack, after all. I didn’t think a whipping, even with silver, could hurt worse than that. But there was something about this particular whip—something wrong. Evil. It was the same feeling I’d gotten about the damn trap someone had placed on my land—probably Wainright himself. I wished I’d thought to call the witch, Gwendolyn, and check to see if she’d made any progress on finding the identity of the one who’d left it. Maybe I could have used it as leverage. Then again, maybe not. Wainright probably wasn’t going to admit dealing with a witch—not in front of his pack, anyway.
“What’s wrong with that thing?” Taylor asked, giving the whip a mistrustful look.
I glanced at her. “You feel it too?”
She nodded. “It’s like it has malicious intent—like the trap.”
“Exactly.” I frowned at Wainright. “I never said anything about letting you whip me with a spelled lash. Since when does a pack master need magic to get his job done?”
He glared at me. “The whip is a device of punishment—nothing more. Your attempt to claim otherwise must be seen as an act of cowardice—you’re just trying to get out of your whipping.”
“That’s not true,” I said angrily. “But I can feel the dark magic coming off that fucking thing in waves. You can’t—”
“Oh yes, I can.” The pack master made a motion and four of the largest males came up onto the rock. Before I knew it they had pushed Taylor aside and were holding me down.
“You fucker,” I snarled at him. “I’ll make you pay for this. First the trap, then the lash—you’re in it deep with some witch somewhere, you fucking coward.”
He frowned coldly. “I don’t know what you mean about a trap. The whip was specially commissioned by LeeAnn herself, to right the wrong your female did to her.”
“But it’s not supposed to be for you, Victor.” LeeAnn leaned in close to me, drowning me in the scent of her sickeningly sweet perfume—bubble gum and roses. It made me want to gag. “Renounce her,” she pleaded, shaking the whip in front of my face. “Give her up right here and now, and I swear you won’t get a single stroke. Just let me hear you say you pick me, not her.”
I glared at her. “I’d rather let you fuckers whip the skin off my bones than renounce the woman I love. I’ll never give Taylor up for you. Fucking never.”
“You son of a bitch,” she snarled. “Fine—you want the skin whipped off your bones? I’ll be happy to do it for you. More than happy!”
She marched around behind me and I heard the whip whistle as it came down on my back. It wasn’t a light blow—being a were, she was considerably stronger than a human female would have been. But still, it would have been easy to handle…if it wasn’t for the immediate effects I felt from the silver whip.
Oh God, I thought as the lash fell again and again and the magic began to work on me. Oh God, no…No!
* * * * *
Taylor
I saw the jagged silver pieces glitter in the moonlight as the whip arched up again and again. By the third time it fell they were wet and red with blood.
“No!” I screamed and struggled against the weres holding me. I nearly got free—there were two of them but I was stronger than ever after drinking from Victor so much. Then another one came to hold my legs, and I was completely immobile—all I could do was watch and try not to cry.
LeeAnn—the little bitch—was vicious with the lash. Her arm rose and fell tirelessly, literally whipping the skin off Victor’s back and all because of me. Because he wouldn’t renounce me. He was paying for my crimes—my sins and there was nothing I could do about it.
“Victor,” I shouted, straining toward him. “Victor…no, oh please…”
“Hold still, fanger,” one of the weres holding me grunted in my ear. “Let pretty boy take his beating and maybe we’ll let you go.”
“Or maybe not,” the one on the other one said, smiling. “She’s pretty hot for a fanger.”
In the past, the implications of what he was saying would have sent me cowering in fear, would have brought an avalanche of hurtful memories and past abuse down on my head until I couldn’t think straight. But now all I cared about was Victor.
“You just try it, you son of a bitch,” I snarled at the one who was leering at me. “I’ll rip your fucking throat out, I swear to God I will.” I bared my fangs at him and had the satisfaction of watching him recoil.
“Goddamn, Lex,” he muttered to the were holding my other arm. “This fanger cunt is hard core.”
“She’s fe
isty, all right,” the other grunted. “Maybe that’s why he likes her. Maybe she gives good head.”
“With fangs like that? She’d probably bite your dick off, man.”
I was barely aware of their conversation at all. I was watching Victor, feeling every blow of the silver lash as it striped his broad, bare shoulders and back. Hearing his muffled cries of pain and seeing him…seeing him change?
I looked again, wondering if my eyes were playing tricks on me in the moonlight. But no, he definitely was changing and not into his wolf form. He seemed to be getting bigger somehow, becoming even larger and more muscular. His face, which I could only see from the side, was strained and his eyes were squeezed shut. It looked like he was whispering something to himself over and over again. But what?
LeeAnn, who was still doing the whipping, clearly didn’t notice. Or if she did, what was happening to Victor didn’t bother her. She kept right on beating him, although I was sure that he’d already had thirty lashes by now. Finally, she fell back, panting.
“He’s not crying,” she said, clearly unsatisfied with the results of her labor. “Strip that shirt all the way off him, boys. I’m not getting a good clean stroke.”
“No!” Victor roared. He opened his eyes and I saw that they were glowing—but not his usual wolf gold. No, they were red—scarlet red—and his face looked wrong somehow. Distorted, as though that part of him was changing too. It was frightening to see but again, LeeAnn didn’t seem to notice any of it.
“Rip it off,” she demanded. “Let’s see what it takes to make him beg for mercy!”
“Don’t!” I gasped. “Can’t you see there’s something wrong with him? Stop this—stop it now.”
“The only thing wrong with him is you, you fanger cunt,” she snapped, turning to lash out at me with the whip.
I managed to duck just in time and the jagged silver pieces hit the were who was holding me instead, right across the face. He jerked and lunged back, letting go of my arm.
“Son of a bitch!” he snarled, holding his cheek and looking at LeeAnn balefully. “That fucking hurts. What the hell is on that thing, anyway? Feels like—”
Scarlet Heat Page 19
