Moon Chosen #1 (BBW Werewolf Shifter Romance)

by Mac Flynn

I heard a sniffle from the wall opposite me. "Lillian, you okay?" I whispered. The oppressive darkness demanded quiet voices.

  "I. . .I want to go home," she whimpered.

  I pushed off the wall and fell forward onto my knees. I couldn't see where I was going, but Lillian's sniffles meant I didn't have to. My knees warned me of splinters and loose nails, but I ignored its complaints and shuffled across the planks and over to Lillian. I leaned my head gently against hers.

  "They didn't hurt you, did they?" I asked her.

  I felt her shake her head. "N-no."

  "So what do we do now?" Bree spoke up. There was silence among our small, shivering group. "Sophie?"

  I leaned away from Lillian and frowned. "What?"

  "What do we do?"

  "How should I know?"

  "Because you've got more spunk than the rest of us. Our only plan's been for just sitting here and waiting to see what's going to happen," Bree pointed out.

  I pursed my lips together and shrugged. "Yeah, well, much good it did us," I quipped.

  "We're not there yet," she countered.

  "You guys are idiots," Carey spoke up.

  "Thinking of something is better than trying nothing," Bree shot back.

  "Did you even take a look at those guys? They're huge, and they're not going to just let us stroll off this boat and back home," she argued.

  A heavy foot rapped the ceiling overhead. "Shut up in there!" came the voice of our lead captor.

  Carey resumed her argument, but in a quieter voice. "See? They're even listening now. We don't have a chance against them, so the best thing to do is shut up and take it."

  I sighed. "She's right."

  "Come on, don't give up on me now," Bree pleaded.

  "We're on a boat, and our hands and feet are tied. That means we can't swim, and we can't beat those guys with just our teeth," I pointed out.

  I heard Bree growl. "So we just wait here and see what happens?"

  Lillian whimpered beside me. "And we stick together," I added.

  "Good luck with that. . ." Carey mumbled.

  The mood over our little group was gloomy. The only interruption to our silence was a stifled sniffle or two from our fellow captives. I sat in the middle of the floor and felt the waves of the lake rock beneath our boat. Above us tramped the heavy boots of our captors like jailers marching in step to an oppressive beat.

  All I could think about was the burly man's cold eyes, and the strange, dark island in the distance. I never doubted that was our destination. What better place to take a group of kidnapped women than a deserted island? Perhaps they would sell us to slave traders, or have their way with us and toss our lifeless bodies beyond the rocks and into the deep depths of the lake. I shuddered. Best not to think about that.

  After a long time, maybe a half hour, maybe two hours, the speed of the boat slowed. The footsteps moved to the side of the boat and I heard shouts. My fellow captives coiled into themselves. The herd mentality overtook me and I, too, cringed. My one anchor of courage was Lillian. She leaned against me and shivered. I couldn't show my fear. Not when I had to give courage to this scared young girl.

  "We'll stick together no matter what," I promised her.

  Her reply was a slight slackening of her quivering. The voices above us grew louder and the boat knocked into something firm. The boots clamored down their plank, and in a moment our door swung open. The burly man from before stepped inside and his men followed him.

  "Take them single-file to the holding cells," he ordered them.

  The holding cells. Such a name didn't dampen the terror that quaked in our hearts. The other women screamed and pleaded as they were taken one at a time through the tall hatch.

  "Please let me go!"

  "I won't tell anybody!"

  Their pleas fell on deaf ears. I was tossed over the shoulder of one of these foul-smelling men and carried outside and up a plank. The boat was parked on a new pier. This one was in better condition with new, freshly sealed boards. There was another boat at the dock. That one was smaller than the cargo one and painted completely black with fresh paint. It had two large motors on the back and its pointed bow spoke of speed.

  The men carried us down the pier to the shore. I twisted and glanced over my shoulder. The tall cliffs of the dark island loomed above us. I could see specks of light on the far right side of the island, but the rising sun blotted out most of them. Ahead of us at the end of the dock was a dirt path that wound its way up the rocky front of the island. Squat pine trees crowded the trail, and on either side of the path were small, round holders in which burned candles. The top of the path was hidden from my view by a ledge.

  At the end of the trail we women were dropped onto our feet and forced to march up the hill. Without our hands for balance we stumbled and fell. The men pulled us up by our collars and pushed us along. I could see Bree and Lillian ahead of me. Lillian stumbled more than the others and she shrank whenever her man grabbed her and pulled her to her feet.

  We reached the top of the hill fifteen minutes later. The path flattened for ten yards before it ended at a stone building set into the rocky mountain. The thick steel door was opened and revealed a long, wide hallway that had been carved into the hill. The rough walls were a mixture of primitive concrete and stone, and the floors were uneven. Torches hung from the right-hand wall and lit the way, and between the lights were smaller doors. There were tiny openings in the upper half of the doors that were covered with sliding slats of wood. Metal bars lay over the center and acted as primitive locks.

  A new group of men greeted us. They were dressed in cloaks of fine, green-colored silk and wore bowled helmets on their heads. Thick pants covered their legs, and they wore leather boots on their feet. Their faces were clean-cut and clean. They had swarthy faces like those who herded us and their hair was long, but tied behind their backs.

  The barbarian men pushed us inside and the new men sneered at our captors. One of the men stepped forward. His helmet sported a round yellow circle on the front.

  "How many?" he asked the burly man.

  "A dozen, just like was ordered," the burly man replied.

  The circle man glanced over his shoulder and gave a nod to his men. They opened the doors to the cells and I saw there was exactly a dozen rooms. The barbarians pushed us forward, and Lillian, exhausted and scared, cried out in fear and fell. The burly man grabbed her hair and pulled her up, but her tired, shackled legs couldn't gather enough energy to help her stand.

  "On your feet!" he growled.

  I don't know what happened. Maybe I was too damned tired of all this torture, or maybe I was just too damned tired to care. Either way I broke from my beast man, leapt forward and jumped onto the man's back. I swung my arms over his head and yanked them back so my manacle chain pressed against his throat. Then I leaned back and pulled my arms against me.

  The effect was to cut off the man's air supply. He dropped Lillian's hair and grabbed my chain. My weak strength was no match for his. He flung me over his head and I landed hard on my back. The air was knocked out of me, and before I could recover a shadow fell over me. It was the burly man. He tore a wooden club wrapped in leather from his belt.

  He pulled back the club to bring it down on me. "I don't care what the count needs do be. This is the last time I deal with you," he growled.

  "What's going on here?" a voice questioned. It was a clear, firm voice that commanded attention. The burly man hesitated. A man stepped from the new group. He was tall with black hair and dark eyes. On his helmet was another round yellow circle, and his cloak was pinned with the same symbol. He was thinner than the others, but still had long hair. His sharp eyes swept over the scene and his gaze stopped on the burly man. He still had his arm raised over me. "Well?"

  The burly man lowered his arm and glared at the new man. "I was teaching one of these women how to respect the men," he expla
ined.

  "That's for their mate to perform, not you," the new man bit back.

  The burly man nodded at me. "This girl is trouble. She's already tried to escape once."

  "That still doesn't give you the right to discipline her," the cloaked man shot back. His eyes fell on me. "Stand up."

  I sat up and frowned at him. "Where the hell are we?" I asked him.

  "Those are questions to be asked later. Now stand and enter your cell," he ordered me.

  "No." I stood and firmly planted my feet on the uneven cobblestones. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me and everybody else what the hell we're doing here and when we can go home."

  "Very well," the man replied. He turned to the first helmeted one. His underling nodded and strode over to me. He swung me over his shoulder and carried me into the nearest cell.

  "Let me down!" I screamed.

  The man obeyed my orders to the letter when he dropped me onto a bed of prickly straw. He exited the cell and shut the door behind me. I sat up and heard the other women cry out. Their cries were followed by more shut doors. The slats in the doors were opened, but from my position I couldn't see anyone beyond them.

  "You will remain here until tomorrow night," came the voice of the lead 'clean' party. "Then you will be part of the Choosing, and will be given in marriage to a fitting husband."

  "Like hell we will!" I heard Bree shout.

  "Hell or heaven, it will be so," the man argued. "The blood chooses the best mate for you. If he won't suit you then no one, man or werewolf, will do. Now get some rest. You have new lives waiting for you tomorrow night."

  The slat was closed on my door and the rest, and the men marched down the rocky tunnel. I heard boots leave in the opposite direction, the one through which we'd entered, and all was silence.

  CHAPTER 3