Wounded Kiss (To Be Claimed Saga Book 1)

by Willow Winters

  “He told me he would.” She’s been trying to decide whether or not she wants to make a move on Mike. I don’t think she should. He keeps coming into the bookstore just to flirt with her and never buys a book. He’s worked at his father’s construction company since last year when we all graduated. Whenever I suggest he buy something, he always tells me he has no need for any books, not that he has any time to read. He could use a book, though. He’s kind of an ass and she deserves way better than him.

  “Do you really have the hots for Mike?” I question, not bothering to hide my disdain. I’m all for blue-collar guys. Just thinking of those rough hands on me sends shivers across my shoulders in a good way. I’m just not into assholes. And Mike is way more ass than he is anything else. A shrug is all I get in reply while we both sign our names at the check-in station. After we’re each handed a pamphlet, we make our way up the steel steps to sit in the back. I toss the handout into the trash as we walk. It’s full of facts about Shadow Falls and how the treaty was formed. I read it last year and I’m not really a history type of girl. Even if I was, that’s not the history I want to read about. It’s basically designed to sugarcoat the one unquestionable requirement from the wolves. If you’re chosen, you must leave with them that instant. No packing your things, no saying goodbye to friends and family. They take you. Plain and simple. I don’t need a pretty piece of paper to brighten up that bit of information.

  “I really want to get my cherry popped before college.” The absurd statement brings me back to the present.

  My gaze shoots over to Lizzie. She’s practically the only virgin I know. I wonder if she told me because she’s looking for a major distraction right now since we’ll have to line up soon. Even if she’s not, I am, so I’ll run with it.

  We decided to only take a year off of school between high school and college to save up money, so that means she’d only have a few months to lose it. If she’s serious.

  “For real?” I can’t help but to question her. She’s never shown any interest before. She nods her head, but it’s quickly followed by a bite of her lip. I know she wants my approval. Not that I’m an expert or anything, but I’m far more comfortable with sex.

  “Why?” I ask in all sincerity. “It’s really not what people make it out to be.” We take our seats and stare at the empty stage as Mr. Horga, the gray-haired mayor of Shadow Falls, makes his way across the field with a wireless microphone. “Seriously, I have a better time with my vibrator.” She laughs at me and goes back to sucking down her drink.

  “I just feel like such an outcast, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know how you feel.” We’ve always been two peas in a pod, dancing to a different beat than everyone else. I clasp her hand with the intention of talking her out of pursuing Mike, but suddenly the whole stadium goes quiet as our gazes are involuntarily pulled to the entrance, waiting for the shifters to walk in and show themselves. Their authoritative presence is felt before anything else. My heart skips a beat and my blood runs cold. It’s overwhelming. I swallow thickly. They’re here.

  “Oh shit,” Lizzie hisses in a low whisper. She dropped her drink and what little bit was left is all over the floor in front of us. Her hands are shaking even harder now. “Sorry,” she whispers and half the people around us give her a wary glance before turning back to the cloaked werewolves who are striding across the field toward the stage.

  “Just come here,” I say, begging her as if she’s running away when she’s still right here next to me.

  “Did it get on your heels?” I look at her like she’s lost her damn mind, silently willing her to be quiet, but when I look at her as she tries to clean up the mess, her expression is distressed.

  “It didn’t get me,” I say quietly, focused on easing her worry. I wish I had something to help her wipe up the spilled coffee, though. She’s only got the one tiny napkin that was wrapped around the cup so it’s already soaked and useless. I give in and laugh a little bit before I look back up, which at least makes her grin in response. Her smile makes me feel like we’re okay. Only seconds later, my own vanishes and my heart sinks. I try to swallow but my throat closes as three of the werewolves turn their heads in our direction. Their gaze on us feels like a cold blanket draped over my shoulders and my mouth goes dry. Fuck.

  “All right, that’s better.” Lizzie’s comment breaks the spell. I let out a small breath of relief when I realize she didn’t notice the werewolves staring our way.

  I reach for her hand and it feels hot in mine.

  “Hey love, you’re all right,” I say to her.

  She tells me back the same. It’s what we’ve done for years when we’re scared. Her voice is calmer and more comforting than mine. She doesn’t seem to give a shit about their presence, which does wonders for my nerves. Thank God she’s being strong when I can’t. She squeezes my hand tight and smiles brightly at me. “We’re going to walk up there then walk right back down.” I force a small smile on my face and nod my head. Up and right back down. It almost sounds simple when she puts it like that.

  “Head down,” I add for good measure.

  I look back at the four men who are now on stage, standing in a row. The voluminous cloaks cover their bodies entirely and their faces are mostly concealed by their hoods. Standing with their broad shoulders squared and hands tucked behind their backs, they emanate sheer masculinity and dominance. I breathe out deep.

  “I got you, babe.” She kisses the back of my hand, but doesn’t release it. It’s a good thing too because I don’t plan on letting go either.

  Mr. Horga has started calling out names. Lizzie and I make sure to go to the back of the line since both our last names start with W. We’re dead last except for one older girl, a girl I recognize from school—I think she was two years ahead of us—who has the most vibrant red hair I’ve ever seen. She’s supposed to be in between Lizzie and me. We’ve never spoken to her before, only seen her around school but this redhead isn’t very talkative so we just keep to ourselves. Even though she keeps staring at our clasped hands like she’s desperate to take her place in between us, I plan on waiting till the last second to get behind her. I’ll be the final person to walk on the stage. My anxiety skyrockets.

  “I wonder what they look like.” Lizzie’s curiosity knows no bounds, even if her voice is shaky. At this moment I couldn’t possibly be more grateful for the diversion and I’m damn sure to ignore the tremor in her tone. I need something to get me out of my head and so does she.

  “We’re just going to be able to see their faces, and that’s only if you look directly at them. Which you should not.” I mutter my response. I’m not that bold. Glancing to the stage ahead of us, I see about half the girls have already filed through. Some of them approach confidently but all of them walk down the steps at the other end with their heads bowed, eyes glued to their feet. The stage is so long that there are at least ten girls on it at a time. The four shifters are spread out so that you’re never more than a few feet away from one. They’re just standing there like statues, not moving or saying anything. A chill runs down my spine. I’m no coward, but I plan on keeping my gaze down the entire time.

  I can’t stand how tense it is, so I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Sherri said they all have a stick up their ass.” We’re getting closer to the stage and I swear my heart’s trying to leap out of my chest and escape. Swallowing is useless; my throat is suddenly dry.

  “Do their faces look different from ours?” the girl who’s trying to get between us asks.

  “I don’t think so.” I manage to get that out but then my chest starts heaving frantically as I see how close to the stairs we are. Lizzie finally takes her eyes away from the stage and places her hands on my shoulders while we continue to move forward.

  “You’re all right, babe,” she says reassuringly. “Now tell me the same.”

  “We’re fine, Lizzie. Nothing bad is going to happen to you, or to me. I promise.” I do a quick count and there
are only four women ahead of us now.

  “I love you, Lizzie.” Tears start welling up in my eyes. I have to tell her. Just in case.

  Now there are three.

  “We’re not saying goodbye,” she whispers, sounding hopeful and I nod.

  Only two ahead of us now.

  “I love you too.” She kisses my cheek as her name is called. I finally let go of her hand and immediately feel the loss.

  Now one.

  Breathe.

  Miss Redhead walks up.

  Breathe.

  My name is finally called, marking the end of this year’s offering. It’s so close to being over. Just a few steps and it’s done.

  Although I hear my name ringing in my ears, my body falters and my fingers and toes go numb. I force my shaky legs up the four steps and try to control my breathing. Licking at my dry lips, I grip the clutch dangling from my wrist tight in my hands like it can protect me. My heels make loud clicks on the metal stage as I walk, and I concentrate on the sound. I remind myself that I just need to take one step at a time and then it will all be over.

  As I let out a small breath at the calming thought, three things happen at once: the werewolf I just passed starts walking off the stage, I feel a large hand on my back, and I hear Lizzie scream. My eyes shoot up to locate Lizzie but before I can run to her I’m pulled against a hard chest by a strong arm made of corded muscle. I’m held firmly in place as a scream tears up my throat. My fingers frantically work to pull the werewolf off of me, my nails digging into the large hand splayed across my belly, but it’s useless.

  She’s still screaming, and I can’t even look at whoever’s holding me, I can only stare as Lizzie struggles to free herself. “Somebody help her!” I scream. Slamming my elbow against the wall of solid muscle behind me doesn’t do a damn thing. Panic turns my skin hot and chaos whirls around me. With all my strength I shove my weight forward, once again pushing away from the beast holding me while shouting her name.

  “Lizzie!” I shout as my feet fly off the ground. The shifter restraining me has one arm wrapped around my waist, lifting me up as though I weigh nothing at all. His other hand cups the side of my head, bringing my ear to his lips. The forceful move makes my entire being instantly still.

  “Calm her down,” his baritone voice whispers, and his breath burns hot against the shell of my ear. His tone is gentle, but there’s no doubt in my mind that his words are a command. My mind finally registers what he’s said and I take in the scene as if in slow motion. The stage is now empty except for the shifter holding Lizzie, who’s fighting like crazy with tears streaming down her red face, and me. Blocking the stairs on either side of the stage are the other two shifters, who act as guards.

  Not a soul in the crowded stadium is moving from their position in the least. No one is coming to help her. It’s only me. The only humans even remotely close to us are Mr. Horga, who’s on the grass where I was just standing moments ago, an expression of complete shock etched on his face, and Miss Redhead. She’s huddled in a ball on the side of the stage where she’s been allowed to go and venture off. Everyone is silent from both terror and surprise while Lizzie is shrieking and crying, held tightly to the mammoth shifter’s chest. Her fists beat against him, not doing any good, but the werewolf allows it, making no move to stop her. It’s useless and he lets her waste her strength.

  After repeating his command, I’m slowly released by the beast of a man holding me. I nod and the tears that had gathered in the corners of my eyes slowly trickle down my face while quiet sobs rock my body. Not Lizzie. Not my best friend. They can’t take her. The realization finally hits me as I’m lowered. They’re taking Lizzie. As soon as my stilettos touch the ground, I dart over to her, the trance broken. I wrap my arms around the part of her torso I’m able to reach, the part not restrained.

  It’s surreal. I would give anything in the world to deny that this is happening. That it’s only a nightmare. The glare behind me sinks deep into my back and I remember his wish: calm her down.

  “Lizzie!” I have to shout at the top of my lungs for her to hear me. When she doesn’t respond, I yell her name again. It doesn’t stop the wretchedness that wreaks havoc inside of me.

  “Lizzie!” She stops shrieking for a moment and looks at me with frightened, glossy eyes as she grabs me with the half embrace that she can manage, yet with such force that I’m surprised I don’t fall over. As soon as she’s quiet, stifling her sobs in the crook of my neck, the shifter holding her gently places her feet on the ground. She nearly collapses as her spiked black heels scrabble to find purchase on the stage. I’m vaguely aware that the people watching us are a mix of emotions. Some are crying, while others have started screaming. But all I can really focus on are Lizzie’s whimpers.

  A force flows through me; I need to try and say something to calm her. It’s like a wave, but I stop it. My body stiffens as I feel the werewolf from earlier approach me from behind. His hand comes down and lands on my shoulder. At first he squeezes firmly, causing me to go rigid, but then his hold loosens and his thumb starts rubbing soothing circles against my nape. I blink away the haze of fear and confusion to look up past Lizzie, who still has her head buried in the crook of my neck. She hasn’t stopped crying hysterically.

  “It’s okay,” I say. The words rush out of me even though I know it’s a lie. My breath is warm in the air between us and my heart pounds in my chest so hard I can hardly hear myself.

  I hold her tighter when I see the face of the werewolf behind her. He’s staring at me with darkness in his eyes, like I’ve stolen his prey. I suppose that’s exactly what I’ve done. His chiseled jaw is covered with dark brown stubble and his narrowed eyes are silver, but beyond that he looks human. He would look utterly breathtaking if he could turn his scowl into something less menacing. At his stern expression I take a step back, survival instincts warning me to take flight, but I’m prevented from escaping by the shifter holding me tight from behind. We’re trapped. Lizzie looks up at me when I flinch at the thought. My eyes dart from hers to the silver stare of the wolf behind her. My body goes rigid as two hands grip my hips to steady me.

  “Follow him and bring her with you,” the dominating man behind me whispers and again I feel his hot breath tickle my neck as his lips brush against my ear. He releases me without another word and I try to walk while supporting the bulk of Lizzie’s weight. We stumble and I almost fall, but the strong hands behind me reach out to steady us before forcing me forward. My chest heaves and my body shakes when I realize I’m going to lose Lizzie forever. They’re using me to calm her down and lead her to some unknown fate.

  “No,” I whisper in defiance. “You can’t take her.” I try to protest, but the hand is strong and then something else, something I’m not able to fight, grips ahold of me.

  My breathing falters and I immediately feel light-headed. I can’t. I can’t do that to her.

  The last thing I hear before my vision goes black is Lizzie’s scream.

  Grace

  Waking up with a pillow under my head and a soft, warm blanket around me isn’t what I expect when my eyes shoot open. Part of me believes it was all a nightmare until the reality pieces itself together around me. The rumbling of a car is my first clue and with the fine leather under my hand, I know I must be lying across the back seat. After a moment I ascertain that it’s moving fairly quickly and I’m alone in the back of whatever—and whoever’s—vehicle this is. Opening my eyes warily to chance a peek at my surroundings proves that I’m right.

  No! My heart races and I can barely breathe.

  “I bet he’s pissed,” a darkly spoken voice says in a hushed whisper.

  “About not being in this car?” another male voice answers. There’s a pause and then he continues. “The other one hurt herself. He had to stay with her.”

  Lizzie. Scrambling to keep still and not panic, I try to recount everything. No, she can’t be hurt, she can’t be. The need to scream out her name is suffocating as
I choke on the syllables.

  “Do you really think we should have split them up?” a gruff voice asks more casually from the front seat after a quiet moment. I go completely still at the sound. The other man merely snorts in response. Inwardly, I know I need to get a grip. They took me. My heart races. Where’s Lizzie? She can’t be hurt. Please don’t let her be hurt. Tears prick at my eyes, but I will them away. I don’t want the men to hear me crying. I need to be quiet.

  “Fuck no we shouldn’t have split them up.” They both let out low, rough chuckles. My body shakes and it takes everything in me to stay still.

  “At least we got the calm one.”

  “I hope she stays that way. They’ll be settled in a bit and everything will be just fine.”

  Through barely opened eyes, I watch the dark figure in the passenger seat nod his head.

  “You hear that back there?” My gut wrenches and my breath halts in my lungs. My eyes widen but I instantly shut them and pretend to still be asleep.

  “Your heart’s pounding so loud that I’m sure everyone in the car behind us can hear it, Grace.” More rough chuckles follow this statement. I swallow and my sore throat protests the movement. My nails scratch slowly on the seat. They speak as if it’s all a joke. Anger mixes in with the fear but still, terror overrides everything.

  I reluctantly open my eyes and the man in the passenger seat looks back at me. I open my mouth to speak, but the only thing I can say comes out as a whisper. “Lizzie?” There’s a pleading in my voice that’s undeniable and I hate it, but I wouldn’t change it.

  “She’s fine. She’s in the car behind us with our Alpha. He had to calm her down when none of us could. You have a strong friend.” The man looks at me kindly while he answers me in a reassuring voice. No, not man. The werewolf. I must look ridiculous to him, huddled under the blanket. I grip the fuzzy fabric tighter and break eye contact to stare at the floor.

  It’s been a while since I’ve felt like this, lonely and scared. Helpless and terrified. A while … but I remember how to deal with it. If I got through that, I’ll damn sure get through this.