Serra froze, her body going limp. He slammed her face into the brick wall. Her nose exploded in a burst of pain. Hot blood ran down to drip from her chin, filling the air with its scent. Spots of light flared, receding to pinpoints in her vision. She struggled not to let the darkness take her.
“Fight, Little Panther. We like it better when you scream.” Hot breath hit her ear with the lion’s growl.
Serra shuddered and gagged at the slimy feel of his tongue on her neck. A hand between her shoulders pinned her against the wall. Her feet dangled over the pavement.
“You know what to do, Boys.”
Tears streamed down her face. Hands grabbed her, ripping her clothes and tearing open her skin. She couldn’t breathe. The hand against her back, ground her into the bricks, breaking ribs and squeezing the air out of her lungs. Serra fought to stay conscious, to keep fighting, but the darkness was pulling her into its warm embrace as they laughed and argued about who would be first.
Jared walked around the empty house that Salvation had given him. The Ghardian believed that it made up for being locked in Hell for half of a fucking century. It didn't. Not by a long shot, but it was what it was. The house felt too open after being shut in a tiny cell for so long. No matter how many times he told himself that he was out, Jared still expected Miko and his gang to jump out at him. Hell, he still couldn't bring himself to eat if it wasn't chow time. He rubbed the back of his neck and reached out to drag the sheet covering a sofa, off to expose the same one he'd left behind in the home he'd shared with Heather.
He snorted, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth when he spotted one of Daniel's toys peeking out from behind a cushion. Sitting down, he picked up the Raggedy Andy doll, his fingers brushing over the sailor's cap sewn to its red yarn topped head. Daniel used to carry this damned thing everywhere and refuse to go to sleep until Andy was tucked in beside him. So much had changed. The tiny cub he'd left was a grown man now and enrolled in college. Jared had missed so much. The cub's first shift. Coming into his magic. First crush. Jared scrubbed his face with his hand. He had too many regrets to count, but missing a single second with his son, topped the list. And now the boy wanted nothing to do with him.
Lifting his eyes from the doll, Jared let them sweep over the vast area, wondering if Daniel would like it. He shook his head. At least it wasn't the old house. That had burned to the ground when they'd taken Heather. Not that he minded. There were too many bad memories there for his cub. Jared's jaw clenched. She had destroyed everything. They could have had a good life, but she threw it all away. Him. Daniel. The life that he was trying to build for them. All thrown away like it was nothing. To Jared, it had been everything, and now he had nothing. He was alone. His son could barely stand him. Only Emma, a sweet little leopard that he'd run into on the second night he'd been out, could ease the simmering rage that he couldn't seem to shake.
Standing and tucking the rag doll under his arm, he waved his hand, sending all of the furniture to the local Goodwill. If he was starting again, he would begin fresh. He had enough to overcome without ghosts of the past haunting them. Maybe Emma would like helping him pick things out as he rebuilt his life. Jared scratched his jaw and looked at his watch. It was almost time to punch in. Sighing he ghosted to the small room he had over The Pit, his tense muscles immediately relaxed as he filled the tight space. Propping the doll up on his beat to shit dresser, he rummaged through the drawers, looking for a work shirt.
He was lucky to have a job so soon, especially one that paid as well as this one did. Brian was the man, having gone to Ozzy and getting him hired. Sure, he was just bouncing at The Pit, but he liked it and most of the shifters that he worked with. Jared smirked. Not that he'd tell any of them that. It was better if they all thought of him as an asshole that might lose his shit and kill them all at any moment. Who knew? He might.
This job, like everything else in their world, wasn't exactly what it seemed. The Pit was just a bar as far as the humans in the city were concerned, but it was so much more to his kind. It was a haven when needed. Being owned by one of the Tribunal families, made it the go-to place if you needed to get in touch with Salvation and it housed one of the few portals to The Mountain, their homeland if their kind were to claim one. It was where they had been created and the place they could return to when life on the outside got too tough. It was the staff's job to keep the banished out, along with the humans and any demons that might want to destroy what they had built. Their dysfunctional group of shifters might look like wait staff, bartenders, cooks, musicians and bouncers, but in truth, they were the last defense against unwanted intruders. They all worked for Alpha Pride, and they all answered to Ozzy Fitzpatrick.
Jared pulled the t-shirt over his head and grabbed up his ear piece. No one wanted to face that lion's wrath. The only one worse was Salvation. So when the boss man called, you answered and didn't ask a lot of questions before doing what he said. Alpha Pride was like the human's CIA, FBI and Navy Seals all rolled into one and less talked about than all three. The AP policed their kind, and if they decided to take you out, there was no due process and no appeal. You ended up with a toe tag, stamped with the Tribunal's approval. No one asked questions. That's what had happened to Heather. Jared still wasn't sure what they did with her. All he knew was that she was gone, and the mark that had mated them was gone too. As long as she couldn't come back to fuck with him or his son, he didn't care what her fate had been.
Checking his reflection in the mirror, he grunted. He should have shaved, but fuck it. Scooping up his keys and phone, he stuffed them into his pockets and left his room, quickly stepping to the side as a bear cub barreled down the hall, chased by its pissed off Mother in human form muttering threats under her breath. Jared smirked as it reminded him of better times. No, scratch that. Now was better, but he missed the closeness he'd lost with his son. Shaking his head and watching them disappear around a turn in the hall, he headed for the stairs before he was late.
Serra’s eyes opened. Her brow furrowed at the sliver of light above her. The smell of blood and decay soaked into her. It coated her. She wondered if she was dead until she moved. Agonizing pain sliced through her like a hundred sharp knives. Her breath froze, and a whimper clicked in her throat. The rustle of soft plastic under her and the stiffer plastic ribbons and the stench of stale beer and rotting food told her that she was laying on trash like the males had tried to convince her she was. The night was silent. Serra grimaced at the stench and forced bruised muscles and broken bones to push the heavy lid open enough to heave herself onto the pavement. She landed with a hard thud. She might have passed out again. She wasn’t sure. The world was going in and out of focus, leaving her confused and dizzy.
Finally, when she could move again, she dragged herself to her feet and noticed her tattered, bloodied and missing clothes. Not an inch of her didn’t throb, ache or scream and she hated the whimper that she made when she reached up to find the collar still firmly in place.
Serra spotted the mangled leg of her jeans dangling from the mouth of the dumpster. She hissed as a rib punctured her lung when she raised an arm to yank them down. A new symphony of hell wracked her as she pulled torn and bloody denim up her thighs. Her fingers were too broken to close the fly. She eyed her bare feet. Where the hell were her boots? She groaned and glanced up at the dumpster and said goodbye to her new kicks because there was no way she could get back up there.
Climbing the five stairs to The Asylum’s backdoor took forever and left her clutching her ribs, wheezing and on the verge of blowing chunks. Sliding her hand against the alarm pad, it took three tries to key in the code that sprang the lock. She bit her swollen and bloody lip to silence the scream as she struggled to open the heavy security door that had never weighed a metric ton before.
Limping inside, she stumbled over a table she hadn’t noticed, but caught herself on a chair, seeing her broken and torn nails for the first time. ‘Just get your phone,’ she chanted inside
her head and pulled up the last of her stubborn Mangus reserves to get to the bar and snatch her phone before collapsing on the rubber matted floor and landing with her back against the beer cooler.
Coughing as she writhed in agony, she growled at the flecks of wet blood that splattered on her hand. Panting and trying to focus her eyes, she began dialing her father. Oh, fuck no. If he saw her like this, he would level Sun City and if he knew... A sob choked her. She would never be able to face him again. Her face burned with shame. She called her uncle instead. Coughing, she clutched her knees to her chest, no matter how much it hurt.
Before she could manage to hit end with the tips of her broken fingers, Raphael appeared beside her. The shock and rage in his flared mahogany eyes made her wince. Serra pulled back slightly, not wanting to be touched and hissed at the pain of broken bones grinding against each other.
“Gods Serra, who did this?” He didn’t ask what had happened. The scents that clung to her painted a painfully graphic picture. He sighed when she recoiled from him, his heart breaking for his niece. “Let me get Damion.”
“No,” she growled out between teeth clenched so tightly that she swore she could feel them shifting in her jawbone. “Just get me out of here. Please. And get this collar off me.”
He hadn’t noticed the collar, and if he had, Rafael wouldn’t have recognized it. He’d never seen one before, only hearing rumors about them being used on criminal Garous and Saindays, to make them easier to handle. Fury churned in his gut. How dare anyone use such a thing against one of his bloodline? Heads were going to roll. It was the pleading he heard in Serra’s voice and saw in her sapphire eyes that made him box it up and push it away. She needed him now. He’d shed blood later. Nodding, he gently laid his palm against her thigh and ghosted them to an apartment that he kept in New York City.
“Shower. Please.” Serra panted as the penthouse, with a stunning view of the New York skyline, replaced the bar around her. She hated having to ask for help and hated the pleading tone of her voice more. It wasn’t until he left her sitting on the glassed in shower stall floor under a warm spray of water that Serra finally allowed herself to break down. Tears mixed with the blood that slid down her body and spiraled down the drain. Gods, she wished that she could follow it.
The next few months passed in a slow crawling blur as her body healed after Rafael called in a favor to get the collar off. Months spent alone, or with her uncle petting her head as she stayed in panther form and stared at her eyes in the mirror she’d demanded Rafe to bring her, waiting for the gods to mock her further and make one of those fuckers her mate. It was torture. Gods how she envied the humans that got to pick the one to spend their lives with. The only satisfaction she held onto was that refusing to accept the mating bond would mark them as the worthless sons of bitches that they were.
Slowly the self-pity and hurt faded to be replaced by a coldness. Serra refused to let herself feel anything. She sent Rafe home and knew that she would never return there. Leaving everything behind, she ghosted out appearing in an alley outside a bar in New Orleans, rumored to harbor a portal. Her fingers were still sore as she fished a fake ID from her pocket and handed it to a coyote at the door, praying that he wouldn't call her on it, or recognize her. Please Gods, just give her this. "I need to go home." She murmured, dropping her gaze to the cracked pavement at her feet as the tears welled in her eyes. "Please."
She jumped at the light hand that fell onto her shoulder, her blue eyes flaring and snapping up to the male. Her heart hammered against her sternum and adrenaline poured into her, demanding that she fight or run like hell.
His brows shrugged together over compassionate golden eyes. "It's okay. You're safe here." His voice was soft and meant only for her ears. "Brock." He stopped a huge bear that was stepping around her. "She needs to go home. Can you arrange her passage?"
The tall blonde bear stopped, arching a curious brow at her before turning his sapphire eyes back to the coyote. "Yeah. Sure." He looked around and sighed, leaning closer to the male and growled. "I thought Brian was on this shit tonight."
The coyote shrugged and nodded at Serra. "Maybe he is. Fucked if I know. Look at her man. She's either going to bolt or go postal any second. Do you really think we should wait around until Brian shows? Better yet, let's give her to Jared and scare her to death."
This was a mistake. Someone that knew Serra or her parents were bound to come by if she stayed here and the two males didn't seem like they were in any rush to help her. Shrugging out from under the coyote's hand, she began backing away, looking for a hole in the crowd that she could escape through.
Brock growled at the coyote. "Fuck you, Brandon. I said I'd do it."
Brandon rolled his eyes. "Hold on, Sweetheart." He reached out and snagged her hand gently. "Don't. We've got you." He flashed her a reassuring smile before giving Brock an I told you so look. "Don't we, Brock?"
"Yeah. We've got you." Brock pushed the long blonde hair back from his face, smiling sincerely through his closely cropped beard. His brow creased when he finally looked at her and was hit by the fear and panic in her eyes and blanketing her scent. He winced. The female had been through some serious shit and was hanging by a tattered thread. "I'll get you there. I promise." He didn't dare to lay a hand on her, fearing that she would snap like a cheap, plastic toy if he did. God knows, he's seen that haunted look in too many eyes over the centuries, not to know what caused it. He held out his arm, waiting for her to take it.
Serra's eyes bounced between the bear and the coyote, unsure of what she should do. Reaching out a shaky hand, she froze, the idea of touching a male making her stomach clench and flop frantically in a bad fish out of water imitation. Grinding her teeth, she forced herself to take it. She needed them to get where she needed to go. She didn't have to like it. Nodding her head, she stuffed her hand into the pocket of her jacket and curled her fingers around the pepper spray she had there.
Brock smiled down at her softly and led her inside. It was hard not to notice the way she flinched away from anyone touching her, so he took the long way around the dance floor, skirting the walls where it was less congested. "It's just downstairs, Cher."
Sighing, she nodded again. Of course, it couldn't be out in the open because that would be too much to fucking ask. She ducked her head when the scent of the panther cub that had been coming to the Asylum with Brian hit her nose. Turning away from it, she bounced against Brock's chest and growled, almost pushing him and his arm away and getting the fuck out of here.
He made a soothing shushing noise and moved faster as he felt her panic spike. She needed to get home, because out here with the humans, she was coming out of her skin and barely holding form. "We're almost there, Cher. Just hang on a few more minutes."
"Keep going, please." She whispered against his chest and let him pull her along again. She just wanted all of this to be over. Her muscles turned from tense to titanium when he began pulling her down a dimly lit hall. Flashes of memories of the alley filled her vision. A whimper clicked in the back of her throat. Finally, he stopped, unlocked a door with a keypad and turned on a light that showed a flight of rough wooden stairs, nodding for her to go first.
Serra slid her hand over the smooth railing as she descended into the stone basement, her brows popping toward her hairline when the row of cells came into view. She glanced up at the bear, the accusation clearly shining in her azure eyes.
"That isn't for you, Cher." He patted her arm and pulled her away from them when their feet touched the stone floor. "This way." He led her to the back corner, which looked like nothing special. Seeing her confusion, he lifted his free hand and pushed it through the wall. "All you need to do is step through."
Serra reached out and almost smiled when the square stone blocks disappeared under her hand. She couldn't see through the illusion, though. Doubt chewed at her. She could be blindly stepping into something worse. Glancing up at the bear, she searched for her voice as she chewed at her l
ower lip. "Will I..." She sighed and pushed the hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. "Do I have to go through alone?"
"No, Cher." Brock smiled and took a step forward, pulling her with him. He didn't have it in him to make her ask, not when she seemed so close to shattering. Giving her arm a gentle tug, he pulled her through the portal and into the badlands. "Do you know what to do?"
She couldn't help the small gasp that escaped her lips when the stone turned to a flat prairie, dusted with tufts of scrub brush and the giant rocks that jutted out of the earth in front of them. Tilting her head back, she was too close to see where it ended. Serra nodded and let go of his arm to reach down and pull a hunting knife from her boot. "Thank you," she whispered softly, using the blade to open her palm and placed her hand on the rock. The words that every shifter cub learned in the form of a nursery rhyme flowed over her lips.
She felt the bear step away from her when the ground under her feet rumbled, and the stone shifted, leaving a hole just large enough for her panther form to squeeze through. Shifting, she glanced back at Brock over her black furred shoulder. He smiled and nodded. Ducking through the stone, she moved through the tunnel, shedding blood as the jagged points of rock scraped her skin. Finally pushing through, Serra blinked at the huge expanse of rolling prairie, lush and green, awed by the people and animals gathered in small peaceful groups. The rock slid closed behind her, but not before she caught a salute from the bear, making her smile for the first time since everything had happened. She felt like she’d stepped back through time. Why would anyone ever want to leave?
The answer came a few short years later when she sprawled on the soft grass, near the place where the gods were rumored to talk to the people. Purring as the sun heated her black fur, she let the images and thoughts of exacting revenge against the lion and tigers filter through her head. She had no doubt that she would find them and then go terminator on their feline asses, preferably one at a time. Lost in thought, she didn’t notice the wind picking up and swirling dirt into the air until it stung her azure eyes.
The Mating (Black on Black, #1) Page 4