So, that was how they cloaked their existence; by hiding themselves among their food source.
“Why am I here?” she repeated.
“You’re here,” the tallest of the group stepped toward her. “Because you found the Scroll,” he finished and squatted before her. His yellow eyes narrowed to slits and she inhaled sharply when he brought his face to within an inch of hers.
“You’re here because I can’t have old man Williams being cured,” his voice deepened. “My kind is starving because antiquated rules were made without our consent. With the elder Williams dead, the heir will have no choice but negotiate a new treaty, especially if he wants to see his mate alive again,” his voice trailed off and he smiled when the others snickered and laughed behind him.
Josephine’s heart plummeted when she realized how much trouble she was in. She’d noticed that her messenger bag was missing and she didn’t know if that was because the wolves had already gone through it or because Roman had it.
She hoped it was the latter. With that being the case, he could, at least, still save his father.
“Where is it?” she asked, and noticed Rafe’s body stiffen.
“We don’t have it,” he answered gruffly. “Why do you think we need you?” he challenged.
“I don’t understand,” Josephine admitted. “I’m of no use to you, Roman probably took the Scroll directly to his father and Mr. Williams is alive and well as we speak…” She trailed off when she realized what she’d just done. With the Scroll out of their reach, what could the wolves possibly want with her? She was no longer of any use to them. She’d just signed her own death warrant.
“That’s where you’re wrong little butterfly,” Rafe said and peered over his shoulder. He exchanged glares with another man and then turned back to her.
“Marty sent a nice little message to Roman Williams,” he explained. “If he uses the Scroll to cure his father, we will kill you. The only way he’ll see you alive again is to return the Scroll to us and let his father die.”
Josephine’s breath hitched and tears formed in her eyes. Robert had been right, the wolves were shady. They were also downright evil. Roman faced a decision he would regret the rest of his life, however long it may be. If he turned the Scroll over to the wolves, saving Josephine, his father would die. If he used the Scroll to save his father, Josephine would die.
Either way, Roman would lose someone.
Chapter Ten
After sitting in the same position for what seemed like forever, the wolves finally moved Josephine to another location. They’d blindfolded her and carried her to a waiting vehicle, and then exiting the parking garage, driven for about fifteen minutes. She tried following the turns, dips and curves, but whether it was the anxiety or headache, she couldn’t recall a place in the city that matched their trip.
The fact that she was still alive told her that either Roman hadn’t responded to Rafe’s message or that he’d made his decision to try and free her. She knew that no matter what happened, Roman would blame her for his father’s demise. He held the key to curing him in the palm of his hand.
She knew next to nothing about the whole mating business. If she died, what would happen to Roman? Considering the fact that they hadn’t consummated the coupling, perhaps he could still get out of it. Since Mr. Williams survived after Roman’s mother died gave her some hope. Maybe the mating connection was nothing more than human wedding vows.
Where are you Josephine? Roman’s voice flitted through her mind and she froze in her thoughts. She heard him as plainly as if he sat next to her but she didn’t know how to answer him. Could he still read her mind?
I feel your fear and panic; please try to communicate with me. I can’t tell what you’re thinking, our bond isn’t strong enough.
“Well, that answers my question,” she murmured dryly. Wiggling around on the bed in the dusty room they’d put her in, she folded her hands in her lap and closed her eyes. Concentrating hard, she thought about the parking garage and the trip when they’d moved her. She tried to project her thoughts out of her mind, which was a difficult task considering she had no idea how to do it.
Pressing her eyelids tighter together, she pictured the musty old bedroom she’d been locked in. She described everything down to the faded, chipping wallpaper. She strained so hard, she felt a headache coming on.
She waited a few minutes but when no reply came, she exhaled harshly and launched herself from the squeaky mattress. She walked over to the sole window and pulled the tapestry aside only to grumble at finding the portal blacked out.
A knock sounded on her door and she jumped away from the window as if she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She refrained from uttering a word, knowing the knock was merely a joke. She’d been locked in here for the better part of two days if her count was accurate.
The only time anyone came was when they brought her a tray of food. She was thankful her room had a small bathroom connected to it or she would’ve been using a chamber pot.
She raced back to the bed and climbed onto the middle of it, situating herself to look as innocent as possible.
The door opened a fraction of an inch, just enough for them to see her seated on the bed and then a young, slender girl slipped through the opening. Instead of food, she carried two large shopping bags.
She stopped just inside the threshold and extending her hands, she dropped the two bags on the floor at her feet. She then smirked and turned to leave.
“Wait,” Josephine called. “What’s in the bags?”
The girl turned just enough to see Josephine from the corner of her eye. Tucking a greasy strand of blonde hair behind her ear, she motioned down at the bags.
“Clothes and other necessities,” she informed. “You’re having dinner with Rafe and he wants you presentable.”
Without thinking, Josephine launched from the bed again and quickly approached the girl. When the waif turned to head out the door, Josephine grabbed her arm. The girl whirled and lashed out with unprecedented speed and accuracy.
Reaching up to touch her cheek, Josephine inhaled sharply when her hand came away with a smear of blood.
The girl tilted her head and studied the smattering of red with a predatory curiosity.
“What’s the occasion?” Josephine asked and prepared herself for the animal’s attack. The girl seemed to shake herself out of some stupor because she turned her glazed eyes back to Josephine’s and smiled, the action revealing four very sharp incisors.
“Apparently, we’re having company and Rafe wants you to there,” she sneered. “And he said to tell you to be sure and look like the professional historian that you are, hence the clothes.” She nodded at the bags again and then turned to head out the door, slamming it forcefully behind her.
Josephine released the breath she’d been holding and bent down to retrieve the bags. She dug through them and found a couple changes of clean clothes, a brush, a few towels, some shampoo and conditioner, soap and a mirror.
She glanced at her reflection in the mirror and winced at how bad she looked. Reaching up to tentatively touch the sizable cut on her cheekbone, she gasped and nearly dropped the mirror when Roman’s face shimmered in her reflection.
“Roman?” she asked softly and ran her finger over the flickering surface.
“Josephine?” their combined reflections demanded. “I can barely see you. How are you doing this?”
She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders, unable to offer a solid explanation.
“I’m just looking in a mirror,” she explained. “I don’t know how any of this mating business works.”
Roman’s face lit in a relieved smile.
“I can hear you perfectly, so that means you’re closer than we thought,” he admitted. “Can you tell me anything about where they’re holding you?”
So for the next fifteen minutes, Josephine went through the description of the parking garage and the move, then the description of her room.
“That’s all I know,” she confessed sadly. “Roman, you should take the Scroll and save your father.” She stopped talking when her breath hitched. “You don’t owe me anything and there’s no guarantee that they’ll even let me live if you let them have the Scroll.”
Roman’s gray eyes narrowed angrily back at her.
“I’m not giving them the Scroll and I’m not giving you up either,” he replied harshly. “My men and I will find you, just stay alive,” he demanded. “You hear me?”
Josephine nodded and smiled.
“Rafe is forcing me to have dinner with him and some guest, what should I do?” she asked.
“You do what he says,” Roman answered succinctly. “You go along with him, tell him anything he wants to know. We’ll find you soon, I promise.” The mirror surface shimmered once more and she stared at her own reflection. Roman’s was gone.
“Easier said than done,” Josephine murmured and gently laid the mirror on the bed. After rummaging through all the new clothes, she chose a cream cashmere sweater and chocolate brown pants. Her black heels were scratched up from her kidnapping, but she was sure she could clean them up satisfactorily enough.
Steeling herself for an unexpected night, she headed into the small bathroom to begin getting ready.
Once she was pleased enough with her appearance, she tucked the small mirror into her pants’ pocket and paced the floor in front of the door. It wasn’t more than thirty minutes before another knock heralded her escort.
She frowned when the same volatile waif pushed open her door and stood back for Josephine to exit.
“Follow me,” the girl barked and then pulled the door closed before setting off down a dimly lit hallway. Once they reached a dead end, Josephine watched as the girl turned left and descended a set of wooden stairs.
As they moved to a lower floor, across a foyer and into a dining room, Josephine realized they were in an old, abandoned farmhouse. She wondered if that’s what Roman had meant when he’d said she was closer than they’d thought. Could the farmhouse be close to Roman’s country home?
“What happened to her face?” Rafe demanded harshly and grabbed the girl by the upper arm. “I told you not to harm her,” he growled and backhanded the girl before shoving her into Marty’s arms.
“Get her out of my sight,” Rafe snarled and then turned back to face Josephine, his face morphing from an angry sneer to a delighted smile. She found herself wondering if all the wolves were as dysfunctional as Rafe and his pack. Were they all just as insane? She remembered Robert telling her that not all wolves fed upon human prey, but in facing the maniacal man/wolf before her, she couldn’t help but believe the entire species was just as bloodthirsty and savage.
She shrank backwards when Rafe lifted his dirty hand toward her face. He stopped with his hand in midair and chuckled lightly before sweeping the same arm toward a chair behind him.
“Please,” he invited. “Sit with us.”
Josephine brushed past him and sat in the offered chair. When Rafe moved around behind her and helped push her chair closer to the table, she looked around at the other guests. She wasn’t surprised when she saw two more werewolves seated when them, but when her eyes lit on the third person, they widened in shock. The fourth guest sat directly across from her and she could tell right away that he wasn’t a wolf or human. His hulking frame and tall statue gave him away as nothing else could.
He was a bear. One of Roman’s own men had betrayed him.
“It’s nice to finally meet you Ms. Baxter,” the bear greeted and extended his large hand across the table for hers. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you,” he bragged.
“I wish I could say the same,” Josephine snapped and merely stared down at his extended hand with blatant disdain. “But I have no idea who you are.”
“Apologies,” Rafe said from the head of the table. “Josephine Baxter, meet Christopher Williams. He is Roman’s first cousin and the soon-to-be Williams’ heir. Once Roman is dead, that is.” Then turning to face Christopher, Rafe smiled, revealing his wolf teeth yet again.
“Am I correct in assuming you two – ” he trailed off and waved his finger between Josephine and Christopher, “share a mutual friend?” he asked conversationally.
“Oh yes,” Christopher hastened to answer. “I believe we do,” he agreed and turned back to Josephine. “It was Clara Stewart who suggested I contact you to begin with.”
Josephine’s stomach dropped. Now it all made sense. She’d found it incredibly lucky that Clara’s old high school flame had gotten drunk enough to talk about a secret society she’d researched for years. She had wondered how Clara, who knew nothing of history, had gotten the inside scoop when she had failed to, but she’ dismissed it from her mind in all the excitement of landing a new job.
Now the only question was whether Josephine had been the target all along or was she just the unlucky historian who’d gotten the job?
“I thought you said that with Roman’s father dead, he would be forced to form a new treaty with the wolves, why do you need Christopher?” she asked Rafe.
The werewolf laughed and reached for the tarnished silver cup before him. Raising it high in the air, he waited for the other three men to mimic his action before turning his attention back to Josephine.
“That was the plan,” he admitted. “But when Christopher came to me with an alternative, it was too good to be true.”
“And what exactly is the alternative?” she demanded angrily turning flashing eyes back on the man/bear across from her.
The beast had the audacity to smile and wink before tossing back his cup.
“Easy darling,” he drawled. “I’ll become the new heir once Roman is dead and the wolves won’t need a treaty, they can have all the territory they desire.”
“You’re selling out your family for power and position?” she asked.
Christopher nodded proudly.
“Of course, I’ll get to marry you once Roman is dead, so I consider that a nice bonus,” he added and Josephine’s blood turned to ice in her veins.
“I’m not the Princess,” she informed him. “I’m just a lowly employee.”
“On the contrary,” Christopher argued and motioned at the near healed wound on her neck. “I beg to disagree with you. He’s bitten you and the bond has begun to form. For all intents and purposes Ms. Baxter, you and Roman are mated.”
Chapter Eleven
Josephine didn’t say anything else throughout the mockery of a dinner Rafe hosted. She didn’t touch the food they placed in front of her from fear that it was human. She’d learned that the other two wolf/men were leaders of packs from neighboring states.
Apparently, they weren’t really happy with Roman’s father either. The mere fact that the Bear Clan dictated all the other supernatural beings’ hunting grounds enraged them on a frightening level.
She’d recalled Roman mentioning other shifters and such, but she’d never imagined that their existence went back eons. While she studied the dishes placed before her, she listened as the other men devised plans to put Christopher in control once Roman and his father were dead.
Then they began drawing out territories for hunting grounds. She found the way they talked about humans, as though they were nothing more than cattle, sickening.
She’d also remembered Roman telling her that there were rituals that needed to take place before the succession could be transferred from leader to heir-apparent. If these renegades managed to kill both Roman and his father, how could Christopher take over without completing these rituals?
Would Roman even inherit the leadership if his father died before the rituals were complete?
“And that’s where our lovely little historian comes in,” Rafe drawled and all eyes zeroed in on Josephine.
“Excuse me?” she asked. Considering she hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation at the time, she had no idea what she was expected to do. Rafe chuckled, prompting the other men to
laugh as well.
“It’s easy,” Christopher drawled and pulled a roll of parchment from his inner jacket pocket. He gently placed it on the table between himself and Josephine and motioned for her to take it.
She reached forward and scooped the ancient document into her hand. As an afterthought, she unrolled her napkin and used it to handle the vellum. Oils from her hands could potentially damage such a delicate material. Using the napkin corners, she managed to unroll the document on the table and quickly scanned the contents.
Her eyes widened once she’d successfully translated the text, which appeared to be in Akkadian, an ancient cuneiform language was used between 2800 BCE and 500 CE.
“No,” she murmured. “It can’t be.”
“Oh, but it is,” Christopher bragged triumphantly.
“Do share with the class,” Rafe commanded and brought his glass to his lips for another sip. Josephine knew that after this, she would be in need of a stiff drink herself. No matter how many times her eyes roamed over the text, she still couldn’t force her mind to comprehend or accept what was written.
“Why does this even exist?” she demanded and shoved her chair back to stand before the men. She drew herself up as high as possible and tried to look down her nose at Christopher as he smirked at her.
“Why doesn’t Roman know about this?” she added.
Rafe tilted his head back and laughed at her antics. If she intimidated him, he didn’t let it show. She knew she wouldn’t decipher the ritual for them, not in good conscience. She refused to be used as some tool to destroy the man who had become dear to her.
“What is she talking about?” one of the other wolf leaders asked.
Rafe narrowed his eyes at her and nodded once. Pressing her lips firmly shut, Josephine reclaimed her seat and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Very well,” Rafe acquiesced and turned to lock eyes with Christopher. “Why don’t you give us a brief run-down of what the sweet, little lady will do for us?”
His Takeover: An Enemies to Lovers Romance Page 83