by Ariel Lei
***
When Mason arrived home, he went straight to the kitchen to grab a cold beer. He hoped a drink would chill him out. He’d just sat down at the centre island to drink it, when Jake walked in.
“You have a phone call.” Mason chugged down half his beer.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Earl.” At those words, he slammed his bottle down, stood to his feet, and stormed down the hall to his office. Jonas was already in there, standing near the mahogany desk holding the phone in his hand. When he offered Mason the phone, he all but snatched it from his hand.
“Earl,” he snarled down the phone.
“MacKaye,” Earl snarled back. This was the first time Mason had ever heard his voice. Hatred filled him. He clenched the phone, imagining it being Earl’s throat.
“You have two of my people,” Earl stated, bitingly. Mason laughed at his word choice.
“People?” he asked, “you mean your precious daughter?” Did he really think he wouldn’t find out who she was? What an Idiot.
There was a moment of silence, and Mason knew he’d hit a nerve. He smiled in satisfaction as he sat down on the edge of the desk. “I swear if you have-”
“You are in no position to start making threats, old man,” Mason interrupted, irritated. Who did he think he was? I’ll teach him to start making threats. The temptation to taunt him was too much to resist.
“You have a beautiful daughter. She was so satisfying. The feel of her body...” he groaned for affect, “the sound of her screams-”
“I’ll rip you apart if you have harmed her, pup,” Earl shouted, furiously. Mason’s grip on the phone tightened. He tried not to lose his temper. He hated being called pup. It was an insult to an Alpha, implying he had no experience in leading a Pack. “I want to speak to her so that I know she really is alive,” Earl demanded.
“No. She’s alive. Take my word for it, or don’t, but I’m not letting you speak to her,” Mason’s reply was instantaneous. Earl deserved no comfort in hearing his daughter’s voice. He would just have to believe in what Mason said. Another voice came through the phone. Someone was talking to Earl.
“My daughters’ mate wishes to speak to you,” Earl declared. Mason’s eyes widened in confusion. Her mate? He must have heard wrong. He was her mate.
“Alpha MacKaye,” a different, younger, person spoke through the phone. Mason stiffened.
“Who the fuck is this,” he growled.
“My name is Dwain. I’m Neoma’s mate. I would like to negotiate with you.” Mason shot to his feet as his body began to tremble. He burned with the need to shift, unleash his claws so he could rip shreds out of something. His animal wanted to burst free. The urge to claim Neoma was stronger than ever. It took all his strength of mind to push his instincts away.
“Listen here, Dwain,” he spat out his name, “there is nothing to negotiate. The girl was caught trespassing. You’re free game when caught on someone else’s territory. You should know that. The girl belongs to me now.”
“You will give her back peacefully, or there will be a war,” Dwain responded, his voice calm. Mason laughed mockingly.
“War between our Packs has been brewing for years. It’s bound to happen sooner or later. But just know this, If any of you step onto my territory, the girl will be the first to die,” he replied, his face red with anger. He didn’t entirely mean the last part of what he said.
“You just signed your own death certificate, pup.” The called ended with Dwain’s threat. Mason growled and threw the phone across the room. It hit the wooden wall panelling and shattered, dropping to the floor in pieces.
“We need to find out where Earl is hiding,” he spoke calmly, despite feeling anything but. He swept his hand through his hair and sat down on the brown leather couch in the corner of the office.
“The girl might tell us,” Jake said from the doorway. “She gave away her own identify to save the male from the torture. Perhaps if we torture him again she’ll talk some more?”
“She won’t talk,” Jonas stated.
“Why’d you say that?” Mason asked. Jonas rubbed the stubble along his jaw and leaned against the wall by the door.
“She knew giving her name away could get her killed, yet she did it anyway, to save only one of her people. I’m willing to bet that she’d let him die to keep her Pack’s location from us to save more,” he answered, crossing his arms.
He’s right. Mason had a feeling she’d sacrifice, not only the male prisoner to save her Pack, but herself, too. It’s what he’d do if the situation was reversed.
***
After the phone call with Earl, Mason went to pay Neoma another visit to find out who Dwain was and what he meant to her. He entered her cell and spotted her sitting in the corner, staring down at a bowl of soup in her lap. By the look of it, she’d hardly touched it. She gazed up at him through her lashes, warily.
“Does the food not satisfy you?” he asked with mock concern. She blinked a few times, opened her mouth to speak, but then looked back down at the food. There were a few potatoes, carrots, and a little bit of cheap chicken in the soup. It was probably tasteless and weak. Nevertheless, it was better than nothing, and she should have been grateful for it. After all, Mason didn’t usually feed his prisoners.
Neoma put the bowl of soup down on the floor, causing Mason to fight back an angry growl. “Eat it,” he ordered.
“I’m not hungry,” she whispered. She was lying. He knew she was hungry. She had to be. She’d been there for a few days and hadn’t been given much to eat.
“Stop being ungrateful and eat it before I shove it down your throat.” He moved forward and kneeled in front of her. He had no intention of letting her starve to death. She was still useful to him.
He watched her take a few spoonfuls of the soup before speaking again. “Your father contacted me today.” Her eyes widened as she looked up at him. “He knows I have you.” He gestured to the food, a silent command for her to continue eating. When she did, he smiled. He liked that she was being submissive. It had him wanting to find out if she could submit in other ways. He tried to push the thought away.
“Another guy spoke to me by the name of Dwain,” he continued, trying to keep the anger out of his voice at the mention of him. He expected her to react to the name, but she didn’t.
“He’s your father’s second? The Beta?” he asked. She nodded, and continued to eat, even though it was obvious she didn’t like the food. “And the guy we have captive?”
“Third in command,” she whispered. Of course he was. He is too strong and too stubborn to be anything less, Mason thought, wryly.
His eyes landed on Neoma’s chest. The cut he’d made with the silver dagger above her right breast was deeper than he’d intended it to be. The skin around it was red and blistered. It wasn’t bleeding anymore, but slight moister was coming from it. Had she been human, she may have needed stitches. At least it won’t scar. He had no desire in permanently damaging her body.
Thinking about her body, he wondered what it would feel like against his as his slipped in and out of her velvety warmth. He guessed her skin and lips would taste like her cherry and honeysuckle scent. He almost groaned when he imagined himself tasting every inch of her. He shook his head, attempting to rid himself of those thoughts.
“Who is your mother?” he asked, his voice slightly deeper with desire. Neoma visibly stiffened.
“She was my father’s fated mate. She died before I was one,” her voice cracked when she answered. Mason swallowed, trying not to think of his own mother.
“How did she die?”
“She was killed by a group of rogues,” she answered, quietly.
“Your father kept you well hidden,” he murmured. She took in a deep breath and placed her half eat soup down on the floor. He decided to ignore the fact that she hadn’t eaten it all.
“Yes. He feared if I were captured by your Pack I’d be killed.” Mason stiffened. Had his father still
been alive and Alpha he would have killed her.
“I guess you hate my Pack as much as I hate yours. Having to live in fear of us,” he said, quietly.
“I don’t hate your Pack. I hate your father for making up lies about mine,” she replied, a sudden boldness in her he hadn’t seen before. He shot to his feet with a growl and yanked her up. He shoved her into the wall, and her eyes widened in surprise.
“Your father killed my mother,” he snarled. He placed his hand around her throat, but didn’t put any pressure on. “Don’t fucking act like he is innocent in this.”
“I’m sorry,” her fearful whisper had him pulling away. Fuck me. He needed to get his emotions in order. One second he was angry, and in the next he was feeling guilty for scaring her. He had no room for guilt. He had to be strong. With that in mind, he glared at her.
“Don’t piss me off again,” he warned. He stormed out of the cell. Tomorrow, he would control his emotions better.
Chapter Five.
Mason.
“Have you doubled the men patrolling the border?” Mason asked Jonas. They were walking to the prison located in the forest. It was ten minutes away from the village where most of his Pack members lived. The building wasn’t very big, but it was secure, holding five cells, a torturing room, and a hidden security room that monitored the cells. He was thinking about putting cameras up around his territory, too, just to be on the safe side.
“Yes,” Jonas answered. The male he was keeping prisoner still wasn’t giving out any information on the Tribal Packs location. He’d left Mason with little choice but to involve the girl in the torturing again. He really didn’t want to have to hurt her. But his Pack came first. He needed to make the first move against hers, and he couldn’t do that without the information he needed.
“Do you think it’s a good idea you being involved with this?” Jonas asked, “she is your mate after all.”
Mason kicked a rock across the uneven ground. “I’ll be fine,” he replied, nonchalantly. Jonas gave him a sideways glance, his dark blue eyes far too astute. Mason knew the word bullshit was on the tip of his tongue.
“I know I shouldn’t, but I kind of feel bad for the girl,” he muttered instead.
“You have a soft spot for her?” Mason questioned. Jonas shrugged.
“I’m just not used to dealing with a prisoner like her. She’s like a quiet, frightened, little mouse,” he admitted. Mason nodded in understanding.
Jonas was a nice guy. He didn’t like hurting people that wasn’t a threat to him. Neoma didn’t seem like a threat, but Mason knew for a fact that her father was, and that made her one, too.
“Remember that she’s the enemy. She can’t be trusted,” Mason reminded him. It was the same thing he’d been reminding himself over the three days she’d been there.
Neoma.
Neoma was escorted by an intimidating, tattooed, muscular man with a shaved head, down a long, white corridor to a room at the bottom. When she entered the room, her eyes widened, and her heart sped up in her chest.
The room was large, dimly lit by an orange light hanging in the middle, and under the light was a chair that seated a beaten and bruised Wade. He had new cuts across his bare chest. Like her own wound, the ones made the day before were starting to scab over, but unlike hers, his wouldn’t leave a scar when they healed. His eyes were black and even more swollen than before. His face was pale and stained with blood. The sight of him made her heart clench. This is all my fault.
At the side of him, a few feet away, was a wooden bathtub filled with ice and water. Letting her eyes moved around the rest of the room, she noticed a long wooden table at the back with all sorts of equipment on. Torture devices. She could only guess at what they did.
Oh, goddess! Have they used any of them on Wade? The thought made her stomach churn. There were knifes, thumbscrews, silver whips, claws, and other scary looking things that she didn’t know the name of. Hanging on the black walls were chains and wooden crosses that looked as if they stretched limbs. The room smelt acrid and stale with old blood. Neoma shuddered, trying not to think of how many werewolves had died in there at the hands of her mate or his men.
How many times has Wade been in here? she wondered, looking over his beaten body again. When he noticed her standing in front of him, his blue eyes widened in horror. She swallowed back her fear and tried to look calm. Although, given their situation, remaining calm wasn’t easy.
Anxiety crept up her body and settled in her heart when she heard footsteps. She turned her head, watching as Mason and Jonas walk into the room. Mason’s eyes connected with hers. She swung her head back around. She couldn’t look at him. It hurt too much. Being rejected was one thing, but being tortured was something else entirely. What did I expect? We’re enemies.
“Gary, has he spoken yet?” Mason asked. The tattooed giant that had escorted Neoma from her cell to the torture room left her side to stand next to the bathtub.
“He hasn’t mumbled a word,” he answered, gruffly. Neoma let out a small sigh in relief. Before realising her mistake, Mason gripped the back of her hair and tugged her head around so that she was looking up at his angry face. His hard body pressing against the back of hers made her stomach flip. She tried to ignore the desire she felt for him.
“So this pleases you, does it?” he asked. His lips curled with disdain. “Will it please you if he keeps his mouth shut while you’re being tortured?” Neoma swallowed nervously.
I need to play on my emotions.
She let tears fill her eyes. She wasn’t really as fragile as she wanted them to believe.
“I’m sorry. I...I...” she trailed off deliberately. Mason swallowed, and she thought she had him. But then his eyes hardened. There was determination in them that she hadn’t seen the day before.
“You look a little dirty. And you don’t smell so fresh. Perhaps a bath to clean you up will resolve that,” he stated, nastily. Neoma felt offended, but managed not to show it. He picked her up and took a few steps forward. Before she realised what was about to happen, he dropped her, and she landed in the ice cold water in the bathtub. She let out a startled gasp.
The water was absolutely freezing. It felt like tiny pins were being stabbed into every inch of her body. When she tried to get out, she was pushed back down, her head held under the water. Her eyes followed the arm that was holding her down. She expected to see Mason, but it was Gary. His grey eyes locked onto hers and held for a moment, before he turned away, looking as if he couldn’t watch what he was doing.
Neoma flailed like a wild animal in an attempt to get free. She could hear Mason shouting questions at Wade, and Wade yelling at Gary to let her go, but their voices were muffled by her splashing. She continued fighting to get free from Gary’s hold, but it was to no avail. He was too strong. Black dots started appearing in her vision, and just as she feared she was going to pass out, she was pulled back up. She coughed, spewing out water. Her whole body shook from the cold, and her heart beat against her chest like a drum.
“Again.”
Neoma barely had the time to suck in a breath before she was being drowned again at Mason’s order. She flailed harder this time, clawing at Gary’s muscular arm in an attempt to hurt him. He still wouldn’t let go. Her lungs were beginning to burn.
“Where is your Pack’s hide out?” Mason shouted. Don’t tell him, Wade, Neoma screamed out in her head even though she knew he couldn’t hear her. Her whole Pack would be slaughtered if he told him.
“Fuck you,” Wade yelled.
Thud.
Grunt.
She knew each time he refused to answer he was beat. The same questions and answers replayed at least four times while she struggled under the water. Her lungs were screaming for oxygen now, and she could feel every frantic thud of her heartbeat. Her fight to get free was waning. After a few more seconds, she was pulled back up. She cried out as soon as her head left the water, and started choking, desperately trying to catch her breath.
“Again,” Mason ordered.
“No-” her head going back under the water cut off her cry of protest. The water spilt down her throat this time, and she coughed out the little oxygen she’d managed to take in. Bubbles left her mouth as she drowned. Her whole body felt numb, but the burning of her lungs was much worse. She felt her ear drums pop, and the commotion over the bathtub became even more muffled than before.
I’m going to die.
Her vision started hazing over, and her eyelids drooped. The grip she’d got on Gary’s arm loosened, and her hands sank to the bottom of the tub. She couldn’t move anymore. Her body was too numb. Her lungs were on fire, despite the cold water filling them.
Was this really it? Was she going to meet death at the order of her mate? Neoma’s heart ached at the thought. But, if she had to die to protect her Pack, then so be it.
Just as her eyes slipped shut, she was lifted out of the water and lowered to the hard floor. She curled up into a ball, and coughed out the water that was burning her lungs. Every wheezing breath she took felt like sandpaper in her throat. It hurt, but she continued greedily sucking in air.
“Wade,” she croaked, opening her eyes and blinking the water from them. She heard him grunt at the side of her and looked up to see him in a half unconscious state. His face was bleeding from the fresh beating he’d received.
“Wade.” She pushed herself up onto weak arms and legs, and started crawling over to him. She wanted to comfort him. She needed to feel some sort of comfort herself. She needed to feel safe.
A few feet away from him, she was dragged up. Her legs gave out immediately, but a hand snaked around her waist and held her up again a hard body. She didn’t need to look up to know that it was Mason. His scent, the electricity she felt from his touch, gave it away.
“Stay away from him,” he whispered, darkly, sending chills down her spine. If Neoma didn’t know any better, she would have thought he sounded slightly possessive.