by L Ann
“I was fucking wrong, obviously.” His eyes dropped to the apex of her thighs, then jerked away. No time, he reprimanded himself. “Think about your wolf, shift and let’s see what happens.”
She squeezed her eyes closed, lips moving as she muttered to herself and Deacon’s lips twitched into an unwilling smile. Crossing the room, he moved until he stood behind her and rested his hands on her hips. She flinched under his touch, then relaxed back against him.
“Think about your wolf,” he whispered against her ear. “Let her show you how it feels to run free, what the forest smells like, how her fur feels when the breeze hits it.” He felt her body quiver against his. “That’s it, Starshine, you’ve got it. Now will her out, become the wolf.” He released her and stepped back.
Between one step and the next, the female white wolf stood before him. Deacon tilted his head.
“Gemma?” he asked cautiously.
The she-wolf’s eyes blinked slowly, nose twitching. ~ Oh my God! ~ Her head twisted around, taking in the room, and came to a stop on Deacon. ~ This is crazy. ~
Deacon chuckled, reached out and ran his palm over her ears. “Come on then. Let me open the door and shift, then we’ll go.” He pulled the door open and had shifted to his wolf form by the time he crossed into the hallway.
Twisting to look over his shoulder, he focused on Gemma. ~ Follow my lead. Stay close. ~ He launched himself forward into a run, ignoring Cormac’s shout to wait.
Gemma followed close behind Deacon as they ran through the trees, and tried not to get distracted by how much sharper everything was – she could see further, smell scents stronger than before, hear movements that, to her human ears, she would have missed.
~ I’ll take you hunting soon. ~ Deacon’s voice drifted through her mind like a warm caress. ~ I’ll teach you how to use your new abilities. Ideally, we would have done that before rushing out on a man hunt. It’s not the ideal way to learn what you can do. Try not to let it all overwhelm you right now though. You need to keep focused. ~
~ Are you following Shaun’s scent? ~ The ability to push what she wanted to say toward Deacon was as instinctive as talking normally.
~ Yes. Over time you’ll be able to distinguish the different scents for each of our Pack. Don’t worry if you’re not picking it up right now. It takes practice. Even for born shifters. When they first become a wolf, they need to be taught how to use their skills. ~ He paused and she saw him swing his head around to glance at her over his shoulder. ~ I assumed he would head toward the valley where Damien dropped Cassie, but he’s not. He’s heading toward the town. ~
~ Why would he do that? ~
~ I don’t know. The first time Cassie saw Shaun’s wolf was in the valley. We tracked her as wolves. Shaun shifted back when she tried to run. That was the first time she saw his wolf. ~
Gemma skidded to a stop. ~ Then why is Shaun going to town? ~
Deacon didn’t reply or slow his pace.
~ Deacon, wait. Stop! Just for a second. ~
Deacon huffed and slowed. ~ Walk and talk. ~
She trotted up beside him. ~ It doesn’t make any sense. If Shaun knows where Damien means, why would he head into town? Surely he knows you would follow him? ~
Deacon stopped abruptly, his gaze swinging from her to the town limits ahead of them.
~ Fuck. He wouldn’t. He’d set a false trail because he knows I’d follow him. He knows I’d be in a rush to catch up to him and wouldn’t stop to think. ~ He dropped to his haunches and sighed. ~ Asshole. He wanted me to waste time going into town. He knows we’d have to stop at your house so I could shift back and grab clothes. I couldn’t search the town as a wolf. That would give him enough time to go back and grab a car to drive to the valley. He knows I’d assume that he was taking a path where he could mask his scent. So long as he left enough to give me a direction, I’d have followed it. Leading me by the fucking nose. ~
~ What do we do now? ~
~ We change direction. ~ He rose back to his feet and padded back the way they’d come. ~ He didn’t count on me letting you tag along and making sure I kept focus. ~
Gemma followed him on silent paws. She couldn’t shake the feeling they were still missing something important. As they crested the hill top which led down into the valley where Damien had left Cassie, she could feel her anxiety rising.
Something wasn’t right.
~ Deacon … ~ She sent the thought out hesitantly, peering down into the darkness of the valley, and inching closer until she was pressed against his side.
~ You feel it too, don’t you? The silence where there should be the noise of forest animals. ~ He lowered his muzzle to the floor.
~ What are you doing? ~
~ There’s no trace of Shaun’s scent. Either he hasn’t arrived yet, or he took a different route. ~
~ What if you were wrong and he didn’t come here? ~
Deacon gave her a sharp look. ~ Where else would he have gone? ~
~ What if he didn’t leave at all? ~
~ I followed his scent, Gemma. I’m not new at tracking. ~
Gemma sat on her haunches, gazed out across the valley. ~ I’m not trying to say you’ve made a mistake. But you were angry, I distracted you and then you rushed out to chase him. Could you have been chasing an … an old scent? Is that even possible? ~
~ No way. I’d - ~ he cut off, his head swinging round. ~ There’s someone here. ~ The hackles rose on the back of his neck.
Gemma rose to her feet, staring over his shoulder. ~ Deacon, it’s … ~ She didn’t get to finish the sentence. A sharp pain hit her shoulder and she yelped and staggered.
Everything went black …
“Gemma …. Gemma … please wake up.”
Gemma groaned and rolled over onto her back. “G’way, Cassie. It’s too early.” She reached out a hand for the blankets. Why was it so cold? Had she kicked the sheets off the bed? Her hand touched something cold, and she withdrew it, her brows pulling together.
“Gemma!” The insistent whisper repeated her name again.
Wait! That wasn’t Cassie’s voice. It was …
Her eyes snapped open. “Mom?”
Everything came back to her in a rush. Damien’s phone call, the text message, Shaun’s disappearance, and Deacon’s rush to find him.
“Deacon!” she sat upright.
“No, love, it’s me. Can you hear me, Gemma?”
Gemma twisted around, searching for the voice. “Mom?” It took a few minutes for her eyes to adjust to the darkness and gradually the bars of the cell she was sitting in came into view. She lifted a hand and her eyes fell onto the sleeve covering her arm.
What was she wearing?
Tucking her knees beneath her, she lifted herself up as high as she could without hitting her head and looked down on herself.
“It’s what everyone is given to wear in here,” her mother’s voice came softly from her left.
“Everyone?”
“They’re all sleeping right now. They try and keep a day and night schedule down here. Someone switches the lights off for so many hours. I assume it’s night outside.”
Gemma inched sideways toward her mother’s voice. “How long have you been here?”
“I don’t know. They took me just before I boarded the ship.”
“That was four months ago,” Gemma whispered. “Was it Damien?”
“No, although he is here somewhere. Jeremiah keeps a tight leash on his favourite attack dog.”
“Jeremiah? Sam’s father?”
Her mother sighed. “There’s so much you don’t know, so much your father and I should have told you.”
“I know about dad.”
There was a long silence and Gemma moved closer to the side of the cage she was in, trying to see her mother through the darkness.
“Don’t get too close to the bars,” her mother warned her. “Once the lights go back on, they’re electrified.”
“How long until that happens?”
“Where are we?”
“I think we’re below the Cooper house, but I don’t know for certain. Gemma,” her mother hesitated.
“I know dad was a shifter,” Gemma said. “I know the Cooper family hunt them. I know Damien–”
“Damien isn’t what you think he is.”
“You’re defending him?”
“No, but–”
“Do you know what he did to me?” she demanded.
“Some of it, yes, and that should never have happened to you. I will never forgive him for that, but you don’t understand what is happening here.”
“He raped me and you’re defending him.”
“No, sweetheart, I’m not defending him. What he did was wrong.”
“Stealing someone’s car is wrong. He raped me.”
“I released your wolf.” Damien’s voice sounded through the darkness and Gemma flinched at the voice she’d hoped to never hear again.
Deacon strained against the ropes, feeling them bite deep into his biceps and wrists.
“All you’re going to do is hurt yourself,” a male voice warned through a speaker. “And I’d hate for any of your blood to be spilled needlessly. It would be such a waste.”
Deacon growled, the sound echoing around the room.
“You might want to close your eyes. We’re about to turn on the lights.” No sooner had the man finished speaking, the lights above Deacon’s head flared.
Deacon’s eyes closed too slowly, and the imprint of the bulb burned into his retinas. He hissed, waited for his eyesight to settle then cautiously opened his eyes.
He was tied down on what appeared to be a hospital bed. He could feel the ropes wrapped over his arms and torso. He couldn’t lift his head to check, but it felt like his legs were strapped down, too.
The scrape of footsteps to his right and a strong scent of wariness made him fight to turn his head without success, and then hands were sliding over his arm, shoulder, down his chest. The fingers circled one nipple before dipping down over his ribs.
Well, that answered the question on whether he was naked or not.
“Hey now,” he growled as they slid over his hips toward his groin. “You could at least buy me a drink first.”
“The subject is aware, responsive to touch.” He assumed the male voice belonged to the person whose hands were stroking down his thigh. “Like previous subjects, this one’s body is in optimal shape. A pattern we’ve found in all subjects, both male and female.”
“You know, you could just ask how our metabolisms work. Hey … hey,” he snapped when the cool hand cupped his testicles. “Dude, no means no!”
Inside, his mind was racing.
Where the fuck was he? Where was Gemma? Was she okay?
The hand was on the move again – over his thigh, down his leg, running over his ankle and the sole of one foot.
“Didn’t you say someone shot this one?” A second voice, another male, questioned.
“Yes, three times, we think. Presumed dead. It appears the new Trifecta has unexpected healing abilities.”
“Trifecta? What the fuck?” Deacon strained against the ropes again, trying to see the people talking.
“This subject is more vocal than the other one. Could we find a gag?” The first voice spoke again. “It’s unfortunate. We may have to begin again unless the other subject is being brought in?” His words ended on a query.
“My name is Deacon, not subject. What other subject? Do you mean my brother? Tough luck, you’re not getting him.”
“The subject is attempting to humanise itself. This is why the subjects are put through rigorous testing before coming here.” Whoever it was, they smelled irritated.
Deacon smirked. Irritated he could work with.
“The aggression levels in this one are higher.”
“That could be due to not having been exposed to the drug.”
Deacon listened closely to the whispered conversation going on above his head. He was sure they thought he couldn’t hear them and he wasn’t about to make them aware of their mistake.
“Get the file for the other one. We’ll run the same tests and compare the results. The drug is supposed to reduce pain, it will be interesting to see how much its body can take without that buffer.”
Fuck. Well that didn’t sound like fun.
“Get away from me!” Gemma threw herself back against the furthest side of the cage away from Damien.
“Believe me, I don’t want to be near you just as much as you don’t want to be near me,” he responded bitterly.
“I doubt that very much!” She whispered.
“Gemma,” her mother said. “There’s so much more going on than you understand.”
“What I understand is that my mother is defending the man who raped me.”
“I released your wolf,” he repeated, his voice a low growl.
“And that makes everything okay?” Gemma demanded.
“No, it doesn’t. But if we want to get out of here, you need to put that aside for now,” Gemma’s mother told her.
“Put it aside,” Gemma repeated, her lip curling into a sneer Deacon would have been proud of. “Just like that?”
“I didn’t touch you until you became a wolf.”
“You didn’t … “ Gemma gaped at the man standing in the shadows. “That’s your justification for what you did? You waited until I shifted?”
“The only way to bring out your wolf was through mating or trauma. Mating was never an option!” Damien hissed.
Gemma laughed, the sound brittle and jarring. “So, you’re the good guy in this story?”
Damien snorted a laugh of his own. “No, girl, the one thing I’m not is the good guy.” He crouched in front of the cage and pushed his hand through the bars.
Gemma leaned away from him, evading his touch.
“Relax, I’m not going to hurt you. Just give me your hand.”
“I don’t want you to touch me.” The thought of his hands on her made her stomach churn.
“I understand that,” he snapped, “but you’ll have to suck it up.” His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, yanking her forward against the bars.
With only a few centimetres separating them, Gemma could see Damien’s nostrils flare as he inhaled. “You’ve started a mate bond with Deacon. I thought I could smell him on you. Have you completed it?” His grip tightened. “Answer me.”
“N-no!”
Damien’s hand fell away and he rose to his feet. “A shame. A fully settled bond would have helped.” He turned to look at her mother. “It should have been Shaun, not Deacon.”
“You can still do it, Damien,” her mother said, her voice soothing. “It might be easier if it’s not Shaun.”
Damien grunted. “I need to think. It was supposed to be Shaun.”
“Damien.” Gemma stared at her mother, hearing a tone of voice she had often used on both her and Cassie when they were children and she wanted to convince them to do something they didn’t want to do. “You know what you have to do. It’s your plan, remember? It’s what you decided you needed to do. Do you remember?”
Gemma’s breath caught in her throat as Damien stepped toward her mother’s cage, his eyes glowing yellow in the darkness.
“And what if I change my mind? What if I decide killing you is the better option?” he asked.
Gemma’s mother held his gaze, no hint of fear showing in her face. “Then you will kill me, and lose your only chance to change things.”
The wolf Shifter’s eyes flared then settled back into a dark brown that reminded Gemma of Deacon.
“You are right, as always, Maggie,” he mumbled, before he turned away and disappeared, swallowed by the darkness of the room.
Gemma listened intently, trying to decide whether Damien was still lurking or had actually left. She could hear noises all around her now that she was concentrating – soft
breathing, low moans and groans. Nothing to confirm whether he was still close by.
“Why are you treating him like he’s done nothing wrong?” She demanded in a low whisper.
“Honey, look at me.” Gemma heard her mother move closer. “Can you reach me through the bars?” She turned her head to see her mother’s hand reaching out toward her. “So much has happened to both of us over the past few months. Until today I thought you and Cassie were both dead. Damien told me he’d killed you.”
“Did you know what he did to me?”
“Not until he brought you here. What he did is unforgivable. But you need to look past it long enough for us to get out of here. Why do you think I’ve survived the past four months?”
Gemma twisted around, giving her mother a sharp look. “Did he do that to you, too?”
“I’m not a half-breed or a shifter. He had no reason to do that to me.” Her mother’s fingers stretched out and Gemma slowly lifted her own hand and clasped her mother’s. “I’ve learned his moods, his temperament, his triggers. I know how to calm him down and make him reasonable.”
Deacon groaned and spat out a mouthful of blood, aiming in the general direction of the male’s shoes. He took more satisfaction in the way the guy leaped backwards to avoid it than he probably should have.
“Is this all you’re going to do?” he sneered. “Throw a few punches. Spill my blood and see if I bleed red just like you do? Can’t even do that without chaining me up first though, can you? Scared I’ll beat your ass?”
The male didn’t respond with words. Instead he buried his fist into Deacon’s gut. The air left his lungs in a rush and he coughed.
“Don’t like it when I talk,” he wheezed out. “Message received.” He forced himself to grin, feeling the split in his bottom lip widen. “Won’t stop me, though. In fact, now I know you don’t like it, I’m going to do it all the more.”
Deacon kept his eyes trained on the male’s face, smelled the flare of annoyance at his words. For a human, the man was fairly dominant. He smelled like military. Deacon would have put money on him being ex-army. With the right amount of needling, Deacon thought he could probably convince him to go one-on-one with no chains hindering his movements.
