Loved by the Alpha Wolves

by Anastasia Chase

  But the alcohol, and the intoxicating show, had had their way with my senses and left me ragged. I soon felt myself curl up across the sofa with a cushion hugged to my chest and allowed myself to slip away. All of those important things could be taken care of tomorrow.

  Hopefully before Madeline drilled me for any juicy gossip. I smiled to myself at how disappointed she would be.

  10

  My sleep was completely dreamless, so much so that I was sure no time had passed when I felt myself waking. Yet, bright sunlight was pouring through the large windows that forced me to drag a cushion over my head. My head felt like a million jackhammers going to town on it, and the inside of my mouth tasted like rubber.

  Yup. I had a hangover.

  My best guess was that it was mid-morning and wondered why my alarm hadn't woken me up. A quick glance around the room revealed that I wasn't in my bed at all, but out on the couch in my living room. Not the best choice, given the stiff and aching state of my back. It was going to take more than just a hot shower to make it feel any better.

  A blind reach for the floor also told me that my phone wasn't anywhere near me, which probably meant that I had missed a lot of text messages from Madeline as well, probably inquiring as to where I was. I tried to recollect whether I had any appointments today with her but the dull headache behind my eyes made it difficult to concentrate on anything.

  I smacked my dry lips together and pulled myself upright. I opened my eyes just enough to see where I was going, hissing through the pain of the sun's rays. I tripped over a boot on my way to the bathroom via the bedroom and cursed at its presence as I shed my clothes to the floor.

  Even the sound of the rushing water from the showerhead instilling needling pain through my head, and I pulled out a bottle of aspirin. Two simple tablets fell into my hand and I downed them with a quick swig of water from the sink faucet. Not the best way to get rid of a headache on an empty stomach but it was better than dealing with the pain for the next few minutes.

  Not that they had kick in right away. The pain started to dull fifteen minutes later when my shower was over, the bathroom completely fogged up from the heat. Washing last night's filth from my skin greatly improved my mood until my stomach turned, begging to be filled.

  My eyes still felt heavy as I wandered back into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around myself, pondering on what I should make for breakfast. Something heavy and greasy seemed perfect—damn my diet to heck—and I searched the room for my purpose, so I could text Madeline.

  That was when I spied a small piece of paper on the ground, nothing more than a crumpled piece of scrap. I discovered a phone number scrawled across it and remembered Xavier tucking it into my shirt. The memory warmed my face and I recalled that the others had given me their numbers as well. Clutched in my hand, I searched in my purse and found Landon's neat handwriting on the gum wrapper; right by the front door, I found Xavier's business card sitting on a shelf. I must have slipped it there before my stumbling journey toward the couch last night so that I wouldn't misplace it.

  I grabbed my phone from my purse in the process of heading back to the bedroom and laid out all three numbers on the bed in a row. I sent Madeline a quick text, asking for her to get me a heavy breakfast as I continued to stare at the phone numbers.

  Three different men, all intriguing in their own way. Last night had definitely painted them in a different light and swept my assumptions aside. All attractive and still more than I had bargained for, I found myself debating with...a choice. I wanted to thank them for the wonderful time last night and inviting me to the show, but I didn't know who to call first.

  I glanced at the card; Jasper seemed like the most natural choice, given he was the band's leader. But I couldn't figure out through the fog of last night whether I had annoyed him or not. He hadn't laughed at any of my jokes, yet he had taken the time out of his night to walk me all the way back to my apartment. I couldn't really be sure what he thought of me.

  Landon was an easy one to consider. His neat script across the gum wrapper was a reminder of his gentle, awkward nature, and the stumbling over his words anytime he looked my way. He definitely had a poet's heart, but I couldn't be sure whether he could get through a sentence over the phone. My grogginess and dull headache already had my patience quite thin and I didn't want to blow up at him for something that wasn't his fault.

  That left Xavier. The most suave of the group. Charismatic to a fault. He had been the easiest to talk to and the first I had opened up to about my past. His opinion on pack rules wasn't surprising but he was hesitant about his reasons for leaving.

  And so was Jasper.

  There was definitely something there that no one wanted to talk about, some mystery they preferred keeping buried and didn't want me touching on. Or maybe they were waiting to get to know me a little better before they spilled their secrets. In any case, not knowing definitely piqued my curiosity.

  I fell back onto my bed as I held Xavier's number over my head and started dialing, paused, and considered why Madeline hadn't gotten to me back yet. I had texted her a little over ten minutes ago with my breakfast order. I hesitated to consider that she was upset with me for some reason, given she had chosen to leave of her own accord and give me some time alone with the three men. In fact, I would have guessed she would have been desperate to hear what had happened last night.

  I ended the call and checked my phone. There were no missed calls. No text messages. Nothing since yesterday.

  My subconscious told me to give her a call and see if she was all right; my desires told me I was being silly, and I should call Xavier back and apologize for hanging up before he had answered.

  "Hello?"

  Xavier sounded just as bad as I felt. I dug my knuckles into my eyes to rub away more of the drowsiness that still lingered.

  "Hey, Xavier. Morning." I did my best to sound cheerful like I didn't have a massive hangover trying to force my eyeballs out of my head. I don't know whether I succeeded or not.

  "Oh, hey," he drawled, and I heard a satisfied groan. My imagination started to run wild.

  "Did...I catch you at a bad time?"

  "Mm? Nope, just stretching." A light chuckle was all it took for him to resume his usual charismatic tone. "Why, what did you think I was doing?"

  I shook my head; I could practically hear the smirk in his voice and I was glad that we weren't face-to-face. I didn't know whether I would smack him with a pillow or drag him in for a kiss.

  "Your reputation precedes you, so that is all I will say on the matter."

  "Is that so. Don't tell me you believe all those rumor mills around town." Another groan. Either he was playing with me, drawing out my insinuations further, or he was really working out the kinks in his joints.

  "It's a little hard not to with your flirtatious ways. I'm pretty sure you would have had your way with me in that alley last night if the guys hadn't shown up." I could still taste his smoke on my tongue and bit my lip in anticipation of more.

  "Oh, please!" He sounded downright disgusted at the idea.

  "Excuse me?" I felt offended and was about to rip him a new one before he continued.

  "I would have taken you somewhere classier. Plush bed, satin sheets, a mirror on the ceiling..."

  I chuckled nervously, my earlier anger fading away. He was making it very easy to forget the awkwardness from last night, which I should have expected. Xavier was all about living in the moment.

  "Mostly to look at your own reflection, I bet."

  "I mean, wouldn't you if you had this face?" he teased, fading into laughter. It was a rich, deep sound that was comforting and jovial. It was hard to stay in any kind of bad mood after hearing that.

  I heard his footsteps across the floor—wood, I guessed—and then the sound of running water.

  "You wanna listen to me be naked in the shower?" There was the sound of a door latching in the background. I felt my heart stop in my chest—the inklings of my daydream c
oming to light—and I couldn't tell if he was playing around or being serious. I chewed on my lip in frustration, wondering just how far he would go in this "game" of his.

  But I wouldn't get the chance to give him my answer. My front door shook from the serious pounding of fists against it and startled me out of my state of slight arousal.

  "Hold on," I hissed into the phone, disappointed the situation was being delayed. I was half-tempted to not answer, in hopes that whoever was outside would go away on their own. But it could be Madeline with my breakfast and I wasn't interested in a flurry of angry texts as to why I wasn't answering the door.

  I left the phone on the nearest shelf as I started undoing the locks and chains to my door, only for it to burst inward. In the open doorway stood three men I didn't recognize. Their large hulking forms filling the entire entrance into my apartment. I clutched the edges of my robe together, struck silent with fright. None of them looked at all friendly.

  "Kiara?" I heard the muffled voice of Xavier on the line. My eyes and that of the man at the front of the pack drifted toward the phone and then back at each other. My throat tightened, ready to let loose a scream that would bring my neighbors to attention and hopefully spare me from whatever these men had in mind. But it was not to be. Before I could utter a single sound, something hard and sharp slammed against my shoulder. I thought I had been shot, and the shock silenced my voice. I looked down, expecting to find blood, and instead found a feathery dart sticking out of my robe.

  I mumbled whatever insults came to mind as the tranquilizer started to take effect, unsure as to whether they could hear me or not. Boots approached dully and obscured my vision of the doorway. Quiet words were pouring out of my phone, words I couldn't make out.

  What I did hear were those of a gruff voice high over me: "Grab the dirty wolf."

  11

  First, there was nothing. Then the heaviness and full-body ache made themselves known, enough to rouse me from my sleep. I wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, allow its seductive grip to pull me back into unconsciousness.

  But something pricked at the back of my mind: hadn't I woken up once today already? I tried to sort through the nagging feeling, telling myself that I must have dreamt waking up and I had yet to do so in real life. And yet, that dream had felt so real. The shower...hadn't I called someone on the phone? Xavier. I recalled his laughter as clear as a bell. His flirtatious remarks. I had texted Madeline for breakfast.

  I jolted upright when I remembered what happened next but didn't get very far. The action sent an agonizing spike of pain through my head. The sensation forced my eyes open, suddenly aware I was no longer in my bed or even in my apartment.

  My throat was dry, and my lips tasted like dust. I felt the immediate area of the floor around me and found a large steel ring bolted to the floor with a large chain running through it and wrapped around my neck. I clawed at the chain in my desperation and panic, hoping to find one weak link I could take advantage of but found none. I tried to roll onto my side and found I couldn't; my feet were restrained to the floor as well and my hands couldn't get far enough to see how they had been bound. Heavy shackles weighed down my wrists and the chain running from my neck looped them together as well.

  I was suddenly aware that I was without any clothing, my naked rear in the air. My panic heightened at the vulnerability of my situation and I let out a feral scream in some attempt to garner the attention of anyone that was nearby. I tasted blood on the back of my tongue after my fourth attempt, my throat sore and aching. But the pain wasn't enough to stop me. I screamed again and again because there was honestly nothing else I could do. I wasn't about to go down like a helpless, mewling whelp.

  Tears beaded up in the corners of my eyes as I stopped to take a break. Dust billowed around me as I caught my breath and it coated my mouth once more. I licked them clean and spat to be rid of it, wishing there was anything nearby to drink. I got the feeling that if I asked, I would be refused.

  If there was even anyone nearby to hear me.

  I knew I needed to remain calm, that panicking wouldn't help to fix my situation. The best thing I could do now was figure out where the hell I was. There wasn't much light coming in through the dust-covered windows, but it was enough for me to make out the cell I was in. If I hadn't been chained, there was space enough for me to move around, enough to stretch my limbs. About eight by eight feet, with bars that went from floor to ceiling. They weren't just resting against the ground either; deep holes had been dug a long time ago and filled with cement to keep the bars in place. The bars themselves, however, were actually quite new. Polished steel that made them stick out like a sore thumb in these surroundings. Perhaps they had rusted over time and needed replacing, or someone had managed to break through and they didn't want a repeat performance.

  The windows themselves were high and almost flush with the ceiling. That gave me the impression that this was some kind of basement. It was finished but not livable in any way. The floor was bare cement and one wall was completely lined with shelves. Many of them were empty, a few had tools on it that I couldn't make out clearly, but from here they all smelled rusty. There was a drainage hole in the center of the room too, probably a means of precaution to prevent flooding. But my mind went to much darker place in regard to its purpose.

  The other walls were bare, save for a door. My guess was that it opened up to stairs that led to the upper floor. Most likely where my captor would make his grand entrance from.

  It smelled old in here too, really old. Older than I thought possible. What I didn't smell was the old stains of blood. There had been no killing in this room, no blood splattered on the walls or dribbling down the drain. No blood, but there was death. I sensed it more than smelled it, like a thick heavy blanket hanging in the air, layer after layer of each passing gathering together to form a web of threads that permeated this place.

  That didn't feel any more comforting.

  Looking around the cell as best I could, it was difficult to make out what this had been used for originally. Possibly livestock, possibly containment for a feral animal trying to be domesticated. Either way, I just wanted out.

  The nearing thud of footsteps overhead drew my attention and I waited with bated breath to see if this was rescuer or captor. By the time they got to the stairs, it felt like years had passed but I had given up on that small sliver of hope. Someone searching for me would have called out; whoever this was knew I was down here.

  The footfalls were heavy, and the wood groaned under their weight. I half-wished they would break and send whoever it was spilling down them, maybe even break his neck or his spine in the process. Better than him completing his journey down here and carrying out whatever sadistic plan he had on his mind.

  He threw open the door without a care, his silhouette backlit with the light of a fading afternoon sun. From where I was, he smelled like wood and sweat, like he had been toiling for a long time out in the forest. I could smell pollen on him too, a hint of ragweed. I wracked my brain for how far we could be from the city, but my knowledge of flora wasn't very strong.

  "Well, well, look who's awake." As he stepped further into the room, I could get a better look at his face. He had small square teeth that were spaced a little too far apart and a flattish nose that looked like it had been broken in the past. His eyes were large, but the irises were pretty small, giving him an even more imposing presence than he probably intended. A short mane of curly, red hair started much further back on his scalp, probably thinning, and ran around the circumference of his head, around his ears, and met at the front on his chin in a thick, curly beard. His head was large in comparison to the rest of his body, though it was hard to tell with the ill-fitting clothes he was wearing.

  "Let me go," I demanded through gritted teeth, my chin scraping against the ground as I tried to meet his gaze. It was already rubbed raw from my examination of the room and I got the feeling it would start bleeding soon.

  "Don't
think you are in a good...position to be making demands, love." He lowered himself to his knees, a filthy grin on his face as he nodded toward my rear end. "Could be changed if you are a good girl."

  I didn't like what that implied and did as best as I could to spit in his face. It fell short, barely even making it to his boot, and he let out a hearty laugh in response.

  "I wish the others were down here to see how pathetic you really are. Just look at you. All that fat hanging off you. Nice tits, though." He gestured with his hands at his chest as if weighing breasts of his own. His lips pursed in a sign of appreciation.

  "Look, just tell me what you want, and I'll get it for you. Please. Just let me go." If I couldn't fight my way out, I might as well barter.

  "Oh, now you want to play nice, you dirty wolf bitch?"

  Before my eyes, I watched as the man grew larger and larger, the air filled with the sound of ripping flesh. His eyes became smaller and much darker, and his arms and legs shredded the clothing he was wearing. Boots gave way to large killing claws which scraped against the ground in his shift. Ears shrank and ascended to the top of his head, mouth and nose grew longer and wider. His small square teeth sharpened, elongated, until there were deadly canines mere inches from my face. I could smell the stink on his breath as he roared in my face, spittle flying everywhere. A final huff of hot air sent a chill down my spine and I knew I was dead if he decided to open the cage door.

  He paced back and forth, snarling in my face every time he passed by. I wanted to be rid of him and turned my face to keep his breath at bay. Thankfully, he wasn't my only captor.

  "Charlie, Charlie, Charlie..." Another voice came down the stairs, this one definitely more charismatic. I dared to take a look and recoiled when the bear roared in my face once more.

  "Is this really any way to treat our guest?"

  There was a hmph of discontent before I heard the footsteps hear and the bear shuffle away. Part of me wanted to be thankful, but that was counting my chickens before they hatched. If this guy was here, he was likely a bear shifter as well.