Rescuing Their Virgin Mate[Pack Wars-Book 3]

by Day, Vella

  She pulled her hands apart to test them, and the cold metal dug into her skin. Her adrenaline spiked as she pictured being shoved and prodded toward some kind of electric chair or worse a guillotine.

  The man stepped behind her and dragged a blindfold over her eyes. Oh, no. Not being able to see was her biggest nightmare, and with her hands tied, she couldn’t rip off the cloth. To make it worse, he shoved a rag in her mouth. Panic ripped through her. Her stomach rolled and vomit shot up into her mouth.

  “Don’t move,” he commanded.

  If she ran, he’d probably shoot her.

  From the direction of his footsteps, he’d stepped over to Cheryl’s cage. Metal creaked and Cheryl whimpered. The slap that followed hurt Elena worse than if he’d struck her.

  “Let’s go, girls. Time to get you prettied up.”

  Prettied up? The idea of getting clean appealed to her, but why would they care? Something wasn’t right. People didn’t drug someone, keep her in a cage for weeks, and then suddenly want to take care of her. This was wrong. These people were definitely not her saviors.

  One of them pushed her forward and, with her hands tied behind her back, she stumbled and landed on her knee. “Ooogmsn.” Damned gag. Her breath caught in her throat as the pain raced up her leg.

  “Easy with the merchandise,” the woman said.

  The man’s meaty hand lifted her up again and, with a firm grip, he led her outside where the fresh air was a welcome contrast to the damp, stale air in the warehouse. She inhaled to fill her lungs with the goodness and caught a whiff of his cologne. It smelled like some version of Old Spice, a scent her uncle always wore. The good memory surfaced and helped lessen the tension.

  The sound of tires whizzing on the pavement seemed far away, but at least they weren’t in the middle of nowhere. If her hands weren’t tied, she’d have waved hoping someone would notice them and come to their rescue.

  A well-oiled door opened.

  “Get in.” He turned her around and pressed on her shoulder, forcing her to sit on what she believed was the lip of a van.

  The man lifted her feet and slid her back a few feet on the metal floor. Her sore ass ached even though she had a lot of padding. Poor Cheryl was skinny and would be miserable during the ride. The tears leaked out of her blindfold but never reached her cheeks. The salty liquid dripped into her throat and nearly made her choke.

  She dropped her head and said the Act of Contrition. Oh my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended you... If she was about to die, she wanted to go with a clear conscience.

  The edge of the van dipped, and Cheryl’s shoes scraped across the metal. Once the back doors slammed shut, the engine sounded. Even though her new cage-mate was as helpless as she was, not being alone gave her some comfort.

  The vehicle pulled out. Elena tried to memorize how many times they stopped and turned, but after a while, she gave up. The cold metal pinched her wrists and pain sped up her spine with every turn. She worked hard to breathe through a stuffed up nose.

  In truth, every second seemed like a minute. Elena clung to the idea they were going to clean up. She tried to keep focused on the positive, all the while wondering if today would be the day she died.

  No more than fifteen minutes later, the vehicle stopped and the back door squeaked opened. Cool air rushed in and smelled sweeter than where they’d been.

  Feet shuffled on the metal, and a strong hand lifted her. He pulled her forward until she reached the edge of the van floor. He lifted her in his arms as if she weighed nothing and tossed her out of the back. Someone caught her, but for that one second in the air, her heart had jammed.

  Man number two set her down, clamped a hand on her arm, and half dragged her forward. She tried to keep up, but when she tripped on something and nearly fell, the guy had to haul her to her feet.

  “Clumsy bitch.”

  Anger ripped up her spine. They’d kept her locked in a cage for two weeks, and her legs had lost a lot of muscle tone. What had they expected would happen?

  The moment she stepped inside this new building, the temperate air cleansed her. The man took off her gag but not her blindfold, and she gulped in the needed oxygen.

  “You scream and you won’t talk again.”

  If he was trying to scare her, he succeeded. A door opened and he shoved her inside.

  “Stay there.”

  With her hands secured behind her back, and wearing a blindfold, it was hard to do anything other than obey. Her heart pounded. She listened for Cheryl’s breaths, but heard nothing above her own raspy pants.

  After several long minutes, the door opened and someone removed her blindfold. Elena looked around. She was in a bathroom that was a lot nicer than the one she had in her apartment. In fact, this one had a stone countertop, a picture-framed mirror, and a tiled walk-in shower.

  The idea of a shower seemed about as close to heaven as she could get—the woman in front of her did not.

  Elena judged this matronly guard with the stern expression to be in her fifties. She was maybe five-feet-three-inches tall and almost as wide. From the way she held her shoulders, she might have played professional football. A zillion questions raced through Elena’s mind, but since this woman was part of the group who’d taken her, Elena doubted she’d be forthcoming with information.

  “Turn around.” The woman waved a key.

  Elena obliged and soon the cuffs were gone. Thank you, God. She rubbed her sore wrists and rejoiced in the small amount of freedom.

  “Get out of those clothes.”

  Elena turned around. The woman planted her hands on her hips. Chills raced up her body at the hatred lacing the woman’s eyes. This person was female, but Elena was a private person. She wasn’t going to get naked in front of her even if she’d been told her clothes were full of bugs.

  “I will. May I have some privacy?”

  The woman’s lips firmed even more if that was possible. “Wash your hair and scrub clean. I will be back to check on you.”

  Elena was tempted to lock the door, but a second after the woman left, a key sounded from the other side. When she tested the knob, she was locked in. That didn’t bother her. It meant more privacy.

  She turned on the water and undressed. Though her clothes were disgusting, and although she loathed wearing them again, they covered her. After folding and placing them on the counter, she stepped in the shower. The warm water was a balm to this nightmare, even though she didn’t believe freedom was any nearer.

  She picked up the shampoo but didn’t recognize the brand. It looked expensive and smelled divine. She bought her toiletries at the discount store.

  Someone opened the door, and Elena immediately covered herself. The matron returned carrying clean clothes. “Put these on.” She picked up Elena’s neatly stacked ones and walked out.

  Relieved she wouldn’t have to dress in her dirty slacks, stained white blouse, and soiled undergarments, she finished washing. After she towel dried, she looked at what the woman had brought.

  Horror raced through her. The panty was a thong, the bra wouldn’t even cover her nipples, and the skirt might not go over her rear. The shirt looked five sizes too small and was a low V-neck. Mother, Mary, and Joseph. If her mother saw her, she would die a hundred deaths.

  Elena placed her palms together and began to pray.

  Chapter Two

  Christ. “This is worse than a sleazy ‘B’ movie,” Dirk said.

  The sale was being held in a seedy strip club. The neon lights rimming the outside had several of the letters unlit. He’d never been here before, which he considered a good thing on many levels. One, places like this disgusted him, and two, none of the employees could recognize him.

  For their own safety, he and Clay had opted out of wearing a wire. Hood’s men would identify them as werewolves. What they wouldn’t know was whether they were members of the Pack, if they belonged to a Colter organization like Hood’s, or if they were random shifters who were interested
in beefing up their stock of women.

  When they stepped through the main entrance, the music blared, the smoke-filled room clogged his sinuses, and the stench of bodies became unbearable. To a human, the smell might have been passable, but not to him. It took most of his control not to cover his nose.

  Women gyrated around poles and a few men with drinks waved dollar bills at the scantily clad dancers. Dirk had met a few girls like these. Some were trying to pay off college loans, but many were into drugs or had given up on life. They’d turned to dancing at strip clubs as a way to keep food on the table. He wished he could help them, but a man could only do so much.

  Clay flashed their invitation, and the redhead smiled. “Right this way, gentlemen.” She led them past the customers down a long hallway. “It’s the last door on your right.”

  Showtime.

  Dirk was more angry than anxious. He wanted to shift and tear Hood’s throat out for what he was doing to helpless girls. But unless they stamped out the head honcho, along with the entire organization, the Colters would keep on coming. Too bad they had yet to identify the mastermind behind the group. The only name linked to this human trafficking scheme was Harvey Couch’s, who was dead, and now, John Hood’s.

  Killing Hood wouldn’t solve the human trafficking problem, either. Even reaching the head Colter would only interrupt things for a while. Leaders always had replacements nearby.

  Clay knocked on the door and entered. This hallway led to another room and then another. Talk about a maze. They finally reached a long corridor with rooms on both sides. The place smelled as if the girls were doused in cheap perfume. Two things struck him as odd. No privacy existed. Each door contained a window. Secondly, a guard stood in front of each one as if someone expected trouble.

  As soon as they walked by the first guard, the door at the end of the corridor opened. An older man dressed in a black pinstripe suit, polished loafers, and more rings than a five-time Super bowl winner stepped forward. He graced them with a wide smile. Hood.

  His stone cold eyes shot a shiver up Dirk’s spine. At the malevolent vibe radiating off the man, it took a lot of control not to do battle, but he and Clay wouldn’t get within ten feet of the guy with all his men around.

  The werewolf moved forward with the grace of his kind and held out his hand. “Gentlemen. John Hood.”

  The man’s accent threw Dirk off balance. Russian, he’d guess. The general’s intel never uncovered this fact. The stakes just shot higher. Then Dirk’s body responded to something else nearby. He couldn’t figure out why the urge to shift enveloped him. Everyone in the hallway was a werewolf, so that didn’t explain it.

  I’m feeling odd. Maybe Clay had an explanation.

  Me, too, but keep cool.

  Not being in control bugged the shit out of him. Going undercover at the exact moment his body decided to go haywire wasn’t a good omen.

  “Gentlemen, tell me what you’re looking for in a woman. Perhaps I can guide you.”

  Just then, the door they’d entered through opened, and Dirk glanced behind him. Two more gentlemen he didn’t recognize walked in. Neither were shifters. Interesting. Hood nodded to them as if he knew them well. Both men acknowledged the guard stationed at the second door on the right and slipped into the room. Dirk hoped Elena wasn’t the one in there.

  Between the two of them, Clay was better thinking on his feet. You answer him.

  His partner glanced at him, but he hid his surprise well. “We need someone soft and nubile to fill out our line. Dargon and I want someone we can train.”

  Why the general chose the stupid name Dargon as an alias was beyond him. A spark of uncertainty flashed in Hood’s eye. Damn. Clay’s description shouldn’t have been so precise.

  The man’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I think I might be able to accommodate you. Would you like me to hold your money while you look?” He held out a hand.

  Since the case required an eye scan to open the lock, he figured Hood wouldn’t be able to steal the money. “Sure.” Dirk handed it to him. Immediately, Hood passed it off to one of his men.

  “As long as no one else is in the room with the lady, feel free to check out each one, but please don’t harm the merchandise. You break it, you pay for it.”

  The warning wasn’t necessary.

  Since they didn’t know which room contained Elena, they started as far away from the newcomers as possible. No potential buyer was inside the first room, but the captive wasn’t Elena. Her mother had provided a picture of her very beautiful daughter and this blonde didn’t look remotely like her. He wouldn’t put it past Hood to dye the woman’s hair to make identification more difficult, but even Hood couldn’t have made a girl grow four inches.

  A blonde, with very long legs, sat on a red sofa with her hands tightly laced on her lap, her crossed legs bouncing up and down. Dirk spotted the security camera in two corners. Most likely there would be audio, too.

  Talk to her, he telepathed to Clay. Christ this sucked. Pretending to buy a woman as their sexual slave made him sick.

  Clay held out his hand. “Well hello. My name’s Randy. What’s yours?”

  Her smile came out weak. “Cindy.”

  “Hello, Cindy. Why don’t you stand so we can see what you have to offer?”

  What the fuck are you doing?

  Making us look good. Stand between the camera and me.

  Dirk understood and slipped behind his friend. To block more of the visual, he placed his hands behind his head. Clay ran his fingers down her arms and even patted her butt, but he was as respectful as possible. He asked her a few questions about her education and where she was from. The girl shook and Dirk tightened his hands into fists.

  Let’s go. It took all of his self-control not to kill someone.

  “Thank you, Cindy. You’re a beautiful girl.”

  “Thank you.” The girl, who barely looked eighteen, dropped back onto the sofa.

  As soon as they stepped out, Clay went into full-blown acting mode. “She’s a real beauty. We could make a mint off her.” His tone sounded too fake and too loud. “The guys would line up to get those full lips on their cocks.”

  So furious, Dirk couldn’t even respond. Instead of entering the next room, he decided to look in each window first. The sooner they found Elena, the better he’d feel. He was halfway down the hall when Clay’s telepathic words stopped him cold. Come back here or I’m walking.

  Dirk wasn’t sure he could repeat the meet and greet scene nine more times without exploding. But he had to suck it up. On the fifth girl, they opened the door and he recognized her as Elena. Thank God. His pulse raced and his body nearly burst with need. His damned bones cracked and his fangs elongated.

  Dirk!

  Clay’s sharp command pulled him out of his sexual haze. Holy shit. What the hell had just happened? One look at Elena and he wanted to shift.

  #

  Elena was close to her breaking point. It was bad enough to dress like a whore, but for men to come in and press their hands on her breasts and grab her ass, she’d rather they’d killed her in the warehouse.

  The click of the door had her heart sprinting. Two men who looked closer to giants strutted in. Instantly, her adrenaline spiked, but then calmed almost as quickly. Her reaction to them was different from all the others who’d entered. Something was unusual about these two.

  For one, neither of these men leered at her like the others had. In fact, the broader one didn’t even make eye contact. His full-lipped mouth was pressed closed and his hands were clasped behind his back. The taller, fairer one smiled. He was the first one who actually looked kind. Appreciating the reprieve, her blood pressure dropped.

  “What’s your name, sugar?” His tone was even and, dare she say, gentle?

  The woman dressed in black had stopped by after Elena had showered and dressed and forbade her to tell anyone her real name. She also explained how men would come by, and for her sake, she needed to convince one of them
to buy her. If at the end of the evening, no one had offered for her, she’d be wishing she were back in the cage in the warehouse.

  “Maria.”

  “Maria, I’m Randy. Would you mind standing so we can take a good look at you?”

  She closed her eyes for a moment and willed the humiliation away. Automatically, she crossed her arms over her chest. The taller one leaned in close and clasped her shoulders gently. His rich, woodsy scent stirred something deep inside her, and this reaction frightened her in its intensity.

  “I’m not here to hurt you,” he whispered. “I want to help you escape.”

  Her eyes flashed open. The words jammed in her brain as she studied him to see if he was just teasing her or telling the truth. Please God, make him be sincere.

  Her savior turned around. “What do you think, Dargon?”

  “Ah. I’m not sure. She looks a little too innocent.”

  Her palms sweated, and she rubbed them against her blouse. She had to convince them to take her. She couldn’t go back into that cage. “I am not.” God forgive me for lying. “I love to suck on a man’s cock.” The expected revulsion never materialized. It was as if the devil slid into her soul and put words in her mouth.

  “I like that, Maria, but we need to look around.” The tall one mouthed, “Don’t worry.”

  Confusion clouded her brain once they left her. The urge to run after them was strong, but she’d been warned about the cameras tracking her every move. If she acted like she was there against her will, her captors would never let her go.

  She sat down and said another silent prayer. She’d find a way to make this work out. The cubicle seemed to shrink, and she closed her eyes to picture her family. Their smiling faces gave her strength.

  She wasn’t sure how long she’d waited, but it seemed like an eternity. When the door opened and the guard who’d led her in entered, her heart tripped. Was this the end? Was her time up?

  “Come with me. You’ve been bought.”