by Juno Blake
Someone shouted, guttural with rage. Lucy’s eyes strained to see after being stuck in the car’s foot well for so long. She thought she saw trees, the outline of a building—No time. Just run. Lucy picked a point between the trees and aimed at it, legs and arms pumping.
She never saw Delauncey coming. Something slammed into her, catching her on her collarbones. She crashed to the ground, gasping for breath.
Delauncey stood over her, scowling. “That’s enough of that,” he growled. “Gyre. Pick her up. Crothers—you know what to do.”
Crothers grabbed her by the waist and lifted her upright, crushing her against his torso. Lucy got a noseful of thick, disgusting BO that make her cough.
“Let go of me!” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gyre approach. She struggled more desperately. “Let me go!”
Gyre grabbed her collar and for a moment, Lucy’s mind went white. All she could think of was the last time they’d attacked her.
Lucy screamed and twisted as Gyre yanked at her clothes. If she could just get out of Crothers’ grip before—before—
Suddenly, Gyre was gone. Cold air slid across Lucy’s skin and she realized he had ripped off her cashmere top, leaving her in nothing but her bra and pants. No. Please, no—
But no one attacked her. Crothers grunted and slung her over his shoulder, apparently not noticing or caring about her half-undressed state. Lucy watched, confused, as Gyre stalked off toward the shadowy building she’d noticed earlier.
Crothers walked in the opposite direction, following a dirt path. Only the occasional broken flat stone suggested it had ever been anything but a hidden track through the trees.
“Where are you taking me?” she demanded. Crothers and Delauncey ignored her. “Hey! You can at least tell me—”
A low growl filled the air. It seemed to hit Lucy’s bones before it reached her ears, the threat vibrating through her skull. She fell silent, cold sweat beading on her forehead.
Animals. Werewolf society had laws. Protocols. Ways to stop the beast from taking over. But these three were taking her to the middle of some godforsaken forest, the night of the full moon.
They weren’t interested in caging the monsters inside them. They were only interested in setting the creatures free.
They want to hurt Ciaran. But they don’t care if I end up hurt, or dead, either.
In fact, they’d probably consider it a bonus.
Acid ran cold through her stomach. One of those Alpha perks.
Lucy kept silent as they walked on. The farther they went into the forest, the thicker the trees became, until Lucy couldn’t tell whether the darkness was just shadows, or if night had fallen. Dread made her breath raspy.
How long do I have?
It was still light enough to see, at least. The path became more defined, until the werewolves’ boots were ringing on stone cobbles. Old ruins seemed to sprout up among the trees, broken walls and columns thick with moss and fallen pine needles.
Gyre joined them after a few minutes, his hands empty.
Delauncey nodded at him. “Is everything ready?”
“Just like you said.” Gyre grinned. The expression made him even uglier than normal. “That stupid prick isn’t going to know what hit him.”
They’re talking about Ciaran. Cold dread poured down Lucy’s spine. What are they planning? Some sort of trap?
She squeezed her eyes shut, but it didn’t stop the images that her brain pulled up. Ciaran hurt. Ciaran burned by silver and unable to heal. Ciaran dying…
Her heart clenched, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe.
Ciaran had always feared that his inability to mark her as his mate would put her in danger. Had he ever considered that someone might use their connection to harm him?
Lucy bit back a sob. She wasn’t just weak in herself. She was Ciaran’s weak point, too. And now these assholes were using her as bait to trap her mate.
She whimpered, and the next thing she knew, Delauncey was glaring back at her. “Shut her up,” he barked to Crothers—and everything went black.
CHAPTER 9
Lucy woke up so cold her bones ached, with a throbbing pain at the back of her head. She was lying slung over something warm, and her body automatically clung to it, seeking life-giving heat.
Rough cloth rubbed against her cheek, and under it, thick ropy muscles. She inhaled—and froze as the rank smell of stale BO filled her nose.
“Want to snuggle up closer, bitch?” Gyre squeezed her thigh.
Bile rose in the back of Lucy’s throat. “Let go of me!”
She kicked, but wasn’t strong enough to break Gyre’s grip. He was holding her slung over both shoulders, one hand grasping her legs, the other wrapped painfully tight around her wrists.
“I said let me go!”
“Save your voice, bitch. You’ll need it later.”
Lucy froze as Delauncey’s voice cut through the icy air. She raised her head to look for him, and her vision swam.
“I—oh, god. You’ve got to let me down. My head—it really hurts…”
Her voice trailed off. How long was I unconscious for?
Delauncey laughed. “Don’t worry, bitch. You’ll have something worse to cry about soon.”
Lucy bit her tongue on her automatic response: Just wait until Ciaran gets here. Instead, she tried to focus through the pounding in her skull.
She licked her lips. Even they felt cold, although the skin around them was salty with fear-sweat. Her bones ached. Everything ached.
But apart from the bump on her head, she didn’t think she was injured. Not badly, at least. Her muscles were screaming, but that was probably from being cramped in the car so long, and now being slung over Gyre’s shoulder like a sack of flour.
She could still run. If she got the chance, if Gyre let go of her for one second—she could run.
“Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see soon enough.”
Lucy gritted her teeth. Every step Gyre took made her head throb. But she could put that worry aside for now.
It was getting dark, and the next light to rise in the sky would be the full moon. There was no point fretting over a potential concussion when she might be torn apart by wild werewolves before sunrise.
They walked for what seemed like hours. Lucy tried to concentrate on the twists and turns the werewolves’ path took, but it was useless. The trees blended into one another, and as the night drew in, disappeared in the darkness. None of the werewolves carried a flashlight; like Ciaran, they could see in the dark.
Where are we? Lucy asked herself silently. They had driven for so long, and now all this walking… she had never seen forest like this in England. Not that there weren’t wolf-woods in England, but the ones she had seen were relatively small, and kept free of undergrowth and dead wood.
This forest was wild. The trees grew close together, branches stretching up to cover the sky, twisting together like lovers desperate not to be separated. Ferns and moss covered the ground.
In the distance, Lucy heard an owl screech, and then nothing. No rustling of small creatures in the undergrowth. No flap of wings or warning calls from birds nesting in the trees. For hundreds of yards around the werewolves, there was only silence.
Soon it was so dark, Lucy couldn’t tell if she would be able to see the moon through the trees when it eventually did rise. The thought made ice run through her veins. If the moon was already in the sky by the time they left the forest…
The trees began to thin out. Lucy’s breaths became shallower and her eyes darted from shadow to shadow, waiting for the moment when silver light would break through the branches.
Between one step and the next, the world was suddenly lit with grey light.
Lucy’s eyes rose to the sky as though pulled by magnets. Her breath caught in her throat. Full night had fallen. The night was a solid black, thick clouds shrouding the sky. She didn’t know what time it was, but…
Late enough for no
sunset light to be breaking through the clouds.
Cold sweat sprang out all over her skin.
Late enough that there’s no way I can get out of here before moonrise.
The werewolves had walked into a sort of clearing between the trees. They spread out, Gyre still carrying Lucy. Lucy glanced around, trying to get her bearings. In front of her, grass grew through the broken stones of an ancient courtyard. The remains of a crumbling wall huddled between trees and shrubs.
Gyre stomped through the undergrowth towards what Lucy had thought was a bare tree trunk. As they got closer she realized it was a stone post, seven or eight feet tall, at the end of the wall. An ancient gate post?
There were more ruins beyond the wall and the gate post. Lucy could just make them out. More walls rising like ghosts from the ground, and behind them—
She bit back a shriek as Gyre dropped her. For a moment as she fell, she thought, This is my chance—but he kept hold of her wrists, twisting her arms behind her as he caught a coiled rope Crothers threw at him.
Before Lucy could even try to pull out of Gyre’s grasp, he shoved her against the column. He tied her wrists together, then wrapped the rope around her waist and neck, binding her to the stone post.
“Delauncey wants you alive,” he snarled, pushing his face into Lucy’s. She twisted away as much as she could, but there was no escaping his foul reek. “Me, I don’t know why he’s bothering.”
He spat on the ground in front of her and stalked off into the shadows.
Lucy took a deep, shaky breath. The rope around her neck was tight, but not so tight it was cutting off her air. And she could turn her head.
Gyre had tied her so she was facing the opposite gatepost. To her right was the courtyard and the forest, with the overgrown path disappearing under the trees. To her left were the ruins she had glimpsed from Gyre’s shoulders.
The three werewolves were all in the courtyard. She could just make out their shadowy figures, ten or twenty yards away. The men were almost invisible in the darkness, blending into strange shapes and shadows caused by the surrounding trees and stone ruins.
Lucy clenched her fists. It was cloudy, but she was sure the moon hadn’t risen yet—otherwise, the three hulking men lurking in the shadows would be wolves. And she would be dead.
She shivered. This time, it had nothing to do with the cold.
The last time she had met Delauncey and his two gorilla-like minions, they had violently attacked her. If Ciaran hadn’t arrived in time, they would have forced themselves on her and left her for dead.
But that was during the waxing moon. Not full moon.
Tonight, the three werewolves weren’t interested in using her. If they had been…
Lucy shuddered, but forced herself to finish the thought. They had threatened her, but if they did want to use her, they would have started already.
No. They must have brought her here for another reason. To lure Ciaran out, and kill them both.
Red-hot certainty burned through Lucy’s veins. That’s not going to happen, she told herself. I’m not going to let them use me as bait to get to Ciaran.
Suddenly, Delauncey strode out of the darkness towards her. Lucy braced herself as he grabbed hold of her, but all he did was haul on the rope around the column, yanking her until she was standing on tip-toes. Lucy’s bare shoulders and arms screamed as they scraped against the rough stone.
“That hurts!” she yelped.
Delauncey ignored her. There was a cold, yellow light in his eyes that made her insides turn to ice. Ciaran’s eyes changed near the full moon, too, but to a blazing gold, not this sickly hue.
“Do you know what time it is?” he sneered. “Probably not. Your freak boyfriend doesn’t even wait for the moon to turn into a monster, does he?”
Lucy’s face twisted with rage. “You’re the only monster I know of,” she snarled back.
Delauncey slapped her. Lucy’s head snapped to the side, but she hardly felt the pain in her cheek. Stars spun in her vision as the back of her head clipped against the stone behind her.
Dazed, Lucy slumped against the column. She could see Delauncey out of the corner of her eye, staring at her assessingly.
“Wind's coming up. I give it five minutes,” Crothers called from the darkness.
Five minutes. He could only be talking about one thing. Moonrise. Or—Lucy glanced at the cloudy-laden sky—maybe the moon had already risen, and they were waiting for the clouds to clear so that its light would fall down on them.
Fear flooded Lucy’s veins. There has to be something I can do…
Voices echoed around the clearing. “Is everything in place?”
“Ready, boss.”
“Good. Let that freak chase his bitch into the forest. We’ll be ready for him.”
Lucy’s breath caught in her throat. They were relying on Ciaran being so blind with rage as he chased after her that he didn’t see that trap he was running into.
“Hey!” she shouted, struggling to stand upright against the post. The rope scraped against her neck, making her cough, but she kept her voice as loud as she could make it. If Ciaran was nearby, then maybe if he heard her talking, if she could give him some hint of what was happening…
“It’ll never work!” she spat out, pretending a confidence she didn’t feel. “You really think you’re going to get the better of Ciaran? He’s smarter than all three of you put together. Whatever trap you have planned for him, he’ll see through it—”
Delauncey snarled and grabbed her jaw. Lucy cried out, remembering the guard’s fate. He wants you alive, she told herself. Whatever he has in store, he wants you alive, he’s not going to break your neck now…
“Shut. Up,” Delauncey growled, his face an inch away from hers. “You’re only here for one reason, bitch, and after you’ve fulfilled your purpose I’m going to enjoy killing you.”
He stalked away, leaving Lucy feeling as though she had been punched in the stomach.
She drew in a ragged breath. If all you can do is scream, then that’s what you do.
A cold wind shivered through the trees, and something made her look up. No!
The clouds were clearing. Tiny pin-prick stars peeked out from a jet-black sky. And just above the tree line, a pale glow lightened the sky.
Lucy struggled against the ropes. If she could loosen the knots around her wrists… She wrenched her hands back and forth, ignoring the pain as the rope burned her delicate skin.
“Moon’s coming,” Crothers barked from across the clearing. “Boss, if it comes out before he gets here—”
It was light enough now that Lucy could see Delauncey shrug. “Then I guess we’ll just have to kill her, won’t we?”
Crothers turned to face Lucy. “Sounds good to me. Why waste time?”
He started forward, a violent leer on his face. His expression turned to shock and he cried out as something struck him in the shoulder. Blood gushed from the wound and he wheeled towards where the shot had come from.
“Get away from my mate.” Ciaran’s voice cut through the darkness like a knife, threat and rage in every syllable.
Lucy’s heart was in her throat, her chest so tight that for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. The werewolves were still looking around the courtyard, but her eyes turned to the ruins behind the walls.
She remembered his words from—had it only been this morning?
The best hunter doesn’t need to chase his prey. He waits where he knows it will come to him.
Ciaran was magnificent. Even in the darkness, she could see the burn of gold in his eyes.
And soon the moon would appear. The rogue werewolves would transform—but so would Ciaran. Delauncey had walked straight into Ciaran’s trap. He would save her. Lucy knew he would.
She was his mate. She trusted him. And—her skin burned as she remembered their last phone conversation—she loved him.
And he loved her.
The rogue werewolves had frozen when Ciaran ap
peared. Now Delauncey thrust his chest out, his hands fisted at his sides.
“Your mate?” he spat. “We’ll see about that.”
A sliver of silver light emerged from above the canopy of trees, where the clouds were dissolving. It hit Delauncey first, and his body shuddered, bones cracking as the transformation took hold of him.
Moonlight spread across the clearing, striking Crothers and Gyre in turn. Lucy twisted, trying to keep an eye on all three werewolves at once. The few heartbeats between the start of the transformation and its completion were perhaps the only time the wolves were truly vulnerable. There was nothing she could do, but Ciaran—
Goosebumps rose on Lucy’s bare skin. Ciaran was still standing in the shadows in front of the ruins. The moonlight hadn’t touched him yet.
He ran forward, but it was too late. Delauncey’s front paws hit the ground. His wolf form was massive. Even on all fours, he was almost as tall as Lucy.
She wrung her wrists against the ropes. If she could pull them even an inch looser…
Delauncey turned on her. Ciaran was still halfway across the clearing, the moonlight a cold silver on his black hair and white shirt, glinting on the gun he was aiming at Delauncey. He shot once, twice, the noise echoing around the ruins.
Delauncey’s claws scraped on stone. He covered the distance between himself and Lucy in one leap, landing with his front paws on the gatepost.
Lucy shrunk back against the column. The wolf smelled like stale sweat and old blood. Like other people’s fear. Sweat broke out on her forehead.
The wolf swung its huge head around, snarling at Ciaran. Then it lowered its jaws to Lucy’s neck and bit down.
CHAPTER 10
Lucy screamed.
Delauncey’s teeth sank into her skin like knives. Pain seared through her. Blood-red lightning lanced across her vision.
A fang scraped past her collarbone, razor-sharp. Lucy couldn’t breathe. She could feel her blood leaving her body, pouring out into the wolf’s mouth, over her skin.
“No!”
Ciaran’s shout of pain seared into Lucy’s heart. Delauncey released her and she sagged against the gatepost, weak from shock.