by Ally Parker
Now he could be dying all alone, lying in the filth of sins and sacrilege. She blinked rapidly, fighting back tears. She’d never hear him call her Kitty again. Her shoulders quaked. She sucked in a breath, but the air was saturated with too much of everything. Gathering her strength, she clapped her hands together and swung her arms like a catapult. The guards tightened their grip, their claws digging into her skin. Twisting and turning, she felt their hold loosen.
Their claws sliced into her skin, a small price to pay. She stumbled forward. One step, two steps. Another shaft of electricity shot into her back. She bowed. Her teeth ground together, the muscles bursting along her neck. Her mind still kicked over, but she had no control of her body. She shook in place, and she could hear Josef yelling at the guards.
Finally, Josef released the cattle prod and she collapsed to the ground. Her muscles ripped at the seams. She couldn’t even feel her wolf hovering under her skin after that blow. Below, the stadium had settled and another voice sang over the loudspeaker, introducing the next fighters. What had happened? Sadness gripped her solar plexus. Was Ryker hurt? Had Jefferson… she swallowed the thought.
Footsteps vibrated next to her head. Two sets of blurred boots filled her vision. By the moon, did the electrical current damage her sight? A part of her felt dead inside at even entertaining the thought Ryker didn’t make it. Stop that! He was strong, he would survive for her—she had to believe that.
“Pick her up and take her to my office.”
Like obedient dogs, the guards pulled her up in a grip that would snap bones on a mere human. Her legs buckled, and she sagged. Not even her legs worked. Maybe it would take a few minutes for her body to recover from the electric current Josef shot her with. She hoped, but her wolf was alarmingly quiet.
“Stop your sobbing and stop your bullshit. Another step out of line and negotiations will be over. You’ll become a plaything for the ferals too untamed to participate in the games but starved enough to slack their hunger in any wet hole.”
Disgusting. Only then did she realize her shoulders shook and tears tracked down her cheeks. A physical ache gripped her heart, snapping through the caution barrier that protected her from feeling… well anything. The only person that mattered was gone, and she had no idea what was going to happen next.
16
Ryker groaned. Awareness cleaved the void of unconsciousness. His muscles tensed, eyes snapping open to stark and utter blackness.
“Kali.” He breathed her name.
Licks of fog veiled his memory. One instinct drove everything in him—get to Kali. What the hell had happened? A constant chemical force blew in his face directly up his nostrils. He reached up to yank at the device covering his nose. His fists slammed into something hard and the crunch of his bones cleared the mist in his mind.
What the hell?
He blinked and shook his head, clearing the remaining webs of drowsiness. His brain clicked into gear enough to realize what was on his head… an oxygen mask? But why? Had he been in some kind of accident? Was that why he had an uncontrollable need to get to his mate—to see if she was unharmed? It might explain why the tang of his blood hung heavy around him.
Something was wrong. Off. Darkness saturated the air, and his body felt like someone had shoved it into a sardine can. He lifted his left arm and fire skated across the side of his neck and shoulder. He growled and gritted his teeth together.
Had some asshole taken a two by two slab of wood and shoved individual burning splinters under his skin? Reaching up to his shoulder, his fingers searched the fringes of a large nasty weeping gash. “Mother fucking son of a…”
He yanked his hand back and his elbow hit something solid, restricting his movements. Damn, that hurt. That kind of injury would leave a mark and take time to heal. Time he didn’t have. The drive to save Kali burned a fire under his belly and fueled an urgency he couldn’t explain. All he knew was that he had to save her.
Stealing a breath, he reached, using his uninjured arm, his fingers fanning across the edge of cold, hard metal. Trailing along the framework, clarity shot an image of a story Kali had told him and he knew exactly where he was.
A coffin.
He was locked in a coffin with a damn oxygen mask on, and he had no idea how much of the gas he had left. Like an animated flip-book, each scene hit him. Kali, a prize. Jefferson suiting up to win Kali. He’d declared Kali was his. And hearing Kali scream and Jefferson tearing into his flesh.
Damn it all to hell. He’d gone and fucked up. Badly. He was selfish and stupid and his damn wolf couldn’t fight claiming her publicly in a stadium full of renegade shifters that endorsed what his father had set up. God, what had his father done with Kali? Was she right in that moment being held down? Being forced…
No! He couldn’t let his thoughts go there. If he opened up that can of worms, darkness would eat him alive and there would be no hope in getting them out of this mess. He had to hold onto reason. His father would be pissed. There was a reason he wasn’t dead. His father wouldn’t let him get off easy if the truth was exposed. All that Josef knew was what Kali meant to him. He had to find a way out of the coffin and ensure Kali’s safety.
A deep rumble rolled out of his chest. He steeled himself for the pain moving would induce and gathered his energy. Thrusting forward, he smashed the inside of the coffin. The box rocked a smidgen, but nothing that would lead to an escape. Damn it.
Again he tried, drawing up his knee until it butted with the lid, he thrust down.
Nothing.
“Now, if you keep doin’ that, you’ll burn through your oxygen real quick. Where would the fun in that be, hmmm?”
The faint voice taunted him. Through the reinforced steel, Jefferson’s drawl hit him. The sick and twisted mutt. He actually sounded like he was having fun. Not that it surprised him. Kali had given him more than enough information to paint an image of the inside of Jefferson’s mind. He just had to somehow use that to his advantage.
“If you so much as touch a hair on Kali’s head, so help me…”
“You’ll what? What do you plan on doing while you’re hauled up in my good ole tank?”
Clenching his teeth, he tasted blood. Nothing in his life compared to the fear, the frustration, and the desperation tightening his chest. Nothing. His gaze jerked around the box, looking for a way out. The smallest slither of light. Maybe he’d missed something, a tiny flaw that would give him the means to escape. His skin sizzled near his hip and down his leg in two other places. Great! More glyph marks. Like he wasn’t already living the worst-possible scenario.
Adrenaline flooded his body; his limbs shook with the need to fight. But at the same time he’d never felt as helpless. This is what Kali had lived through? A growl rumbled in his chest. It took an extreme narcissistic psychopath to enjoy torture like this. He’d bet his left nut that Jefferson enjoyed hearing his victims beg and plead. It probably made him feel superior to violate and control another living being.
What he wouldn’t do to teach the sick son of a bitch a lesson himself. Considering the situation, he’d have to warm his thoughts with what he’d do with the male. For now. Fact was, Jefferson was right. What could he do while he was locked up? Absolutely fucking nothing. “Look.” He tried to keep the desperation out of his voice. Probably failed. At this point he was beyond caring. “What do you want? Name it.”
He was willing to risk anything to protect Kali.
The sound of fingers drumming thudded through the metal. Jefferson snorted. “You have nothing I want. Everything you own is gone. You’re a secondhand, chewed-up Alpha with no pack, no females, no power, no money, and now no mate. What could you possibly offer?”
That’s where he was dead wrong. Ryker sucked in a breath, held it, and steadily blew it out, trying to clear his head. Tension mounted across his shoulders. The way Jefferson had stated he didn’t have a mate sounded like he planned on claiming her for himself despite that she wasn’t meant for Jefferson. Kali wa
s chromosomally meant for him, as he was for her. It was illegal to do such a thing. Not that it would matter to someone of Jefferson’s caliber.
Yes, he was wanted by the Council for questioning for taking Kali. Little did Jefferson know, he did have a pack—a family who should be due to arrive any moment. He might not have been the wealthiest Alpha, but their pack did okay. None of them were lacking the essentials of life. Sure, he had no females—he’d sent them packing as soon as he found out about the Pit. He wanted them as far away from his father’s reach as physically possible. Most importantly, he did have Kali. She may not have said the words, but they had shared something back in the cell. It was more than two shifters rutting; it was a union, a promise of more. On the condition he could get them both out of the Pit alive.
All those facts did nothing to help his situation except to marginally soothe his beast. He was backed into a corner with limited choices. Negotiating with Jefferson was akin to dealing with the devil, and nothing good was going to come from it. Still, he had to try…Kali depended on it. Regret coated his conscience; so many females were counting on him. The only thing that soothed him was knowing that the information he would give would do nothing to prevent saving the females.
“What if I could save your life?”
Jefferson laughed and slapped the lid with a hallow thump. He must have leaned closer, the volume of his voice increasing. “Now that’s a funny thing to say when for the moment you’re at my mercy all boxed up like a pretty Christmas present.”
Pinching his eyes closed, he swallowed down his remorse. Surprise would have given them an edge. Still, knowing about the impending attack wouldn’t do anything to prevent it. “Hypothetically speaking, what if I had information on a pending attack that’s set to blow this place to smoke and ash?”
The silence stretched between them. Maybe Jefferson didn’t take the bait. Had he made a mistake dangling that carrot in front of him?
Quiet as a predator stalking its prey, Jefferson’s words hit his ears. “I’m listening.”
Kali stared at the marble desktop, unseeing. They’d dragged her into Josef’s office what felt like hours ago. One guard manned the exit. Clearly, she wasn’t deemed a threat. To add to the insult, she wasn’t even bound. Not that she could escape anyway; she wouldn’t stand a chance against all those males. Running her tongue over very human teeth, she wondered for at least the hundredth time when her wolf would make an appearance. Where had her animal gone? She’d be helpless without it. Another choked sob threatened to spill out. Her body shook, but she managed to suppress the urge.
Other than the one guard, she hadn’t seen anyone. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Maybe this was a test of some kind? The endless waiting only gave her mind free rein to run wild. Unfortunately, her imagination was a dark and horrid place. Not somewhere she wanted to be. Memories of Ryker’s cry of pain and the vicious snarls she’d heard so many times over her life echoed under the cheering spectators. Her mind was only too willing to fill in the gaps.
Don’t go there. Ryker couldn’t be dead. Wouldn’t she feel it, deep down in the apex of her heart? Unclaimed or not? They were mates, and that had to mean something. Right? She had to hold onto hope that he survived. He was a tough male in his prime. An Alpha not only physically cut from granite, he was made of grit and stone with a steel determination to match. It didn’t matter that both Ryker and Jefferson were Alphas. Ryker possessed something Jefferson would never have. Honor.
From the limited knowledge she held on mates, she had to know that Ryker would be fighting for her, for them. That thought brought her a measure of comfort. She bit her lip, dragging the dull edges over skin again and again. There was no other possibility than to believe he was alive. Her fingers dug into the leather armrests of the winged chair she sat in. Be strong. Be smart. Be strategic. So she could make it back to him.
Plus, a male like Josef would want answers. He’d need to know why Ryker had kept the fact they were mates a secret. She swallowed down a wave of worry. Just thinking how that conversation would go down caused nausea to swirl in her gut. From what she knew of Ryker, he wouldn’t give anything away too easily.
The double doors behind her swung open, letting in a shaft of light that lit up a large, framed scene of the moon in its various phases. The scent of smoky, sour apples wafted around her. She crushed a shiver that wanted to skate down her spine. Clipped footsteps paused behind her. Her muscles tensed. She sat rigid in her seat, hands clenched on the armrest to stop from attacking.
Be strong, be smart, and be strategic.
A long drawn out inhale ruffled her hair. She clenched her jaw, and her eyes shuttered closed.
“Hmm, Jefferson’s right; you do smell like midnight lilies, little firefly.”
Stiffening, a weak growl erupted, loathing the nickname Jefferson had given her. At least her wolf showed some presence, and that alone made her feel marginally better.
Josef chuckled. “It never ceases to amaze me that the undeserving garner fruit while the rest of us starve. The deserving plough, seed, and yet are denied harvest.”
He strolled past her, her eyes honing in on his movements. Without a care in the world, he walked over to a heavy wooden cabinet in the corner of his office. He bent over and nabbed two glasses and a bottle of whiskey before sliding into the high-backed leather chair across from her.
She frowned.
The glass clinked as the lip of the whiskey bottle kissed the rim. He slid it across the black desktop. She stayed where she was. Not that consuming alcohol would hinder her senses. Still, she didn’t want to invite the illusion of comfort or familiarity the action would bring.
He poured himself a drink and lit up a cigar, the smoky notes choking her. He took a drink of the whiskey and leaned back in the chair, the leather crinkling. “Would you believe that this establishment wouldn’t have come to fruition if it weren’t for Ryker?”
What? There was no way Ryker would have been involved in the foundations of the Pit.
Josef laughed and drew back on his cigar. “I can tell by the look on your face you don’t believe me. But I swear it’s true. And I am a man of my word. You see”—Josef’s face darkened, his lip curled into a snarl—“the mating between Engelise and myself was arranged. Our packs had been at war for generations and as a part of the treaty Engelise and I were responsible for unifying our packs. That was until Ryker’s bitch of a mother left us for her true mate.”
Josef slung back the rest of his drink and poured another. She watched every nuance and tick, trying to learn his tells quickly. If she could read him better, the odds of survival inched up a little. Her muscles were rigid, all her senses amplified, just waiting to jump into fight-or-flight mode.
“Can you believe our laws say it’s acceptable to break a mating if one’s true mate is discovered? It didn’t even matter to her that I held both her whelps hostage. Sure, both her true mate and she attempted to steal the pups away. Of course, I was always one step ahead of them. Until I finally hid us where she couldn’t find them.”
Josef reached forward and picked up a stress ball sitting in a document tray. He leaned back and began to juggle it between each hand. “I didn’t take things very well back then. I was young, foolish even; my wolf rode me hard. Anyway, this one particular day, I garnered ten glyph marks. Ten!” He shook his head, and claws dug into the foam ball, splitting it into red fragments.
“There Ryker was, all skin and bones, bringing me my drinks, and the pup said to me, ‘It’s not fair that the only option is for males to have to hunt for their mates.’ He was right. I chewed on that comment for over a year and then the idea of the Pit bloomed. Already a true mating has resulted from this establishment. All the female pups whelped go into training for future harvests, and the males here are able to control their wolf that much better because of all the fighting and rutting.”
Kali blinked. That was the biggest hunk of horseshit she’d ever heard. Seemed like Josef thought he w
as just doing a community service. Not ruining lives. Nausea swelled in her stomach. There were infants here. In a place like the Pit? Getting groomed to become nothing more than breeders. The thought was a hard pill to swallow. Again, she wondered how none of their kind knew about a place like this. Surely there had to be some good males left.
She cleared her throat. “And what if male pups are born?”
Josef reached into a drawer and pulled out a box of matches. Striking a match, he sucked back on his cigar and shook the flames out, tossing the stick into the ash-tray. He shrugged. “They get trained as warriors and used to protect out kind from hunters… or other threats.”
His own personal army.
Placing the cigar in the ashtray holder, Josef leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desktop. “As you can see, I’m no monster. If fact, I have a proposal for you. Call it a gift, considering the season. I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted. Money. Pack. Power. Jefferson on a leash. Name it, and it’s yours.”
Numbly, her mind struggled to keep up with what he was saying. “Pack? Power?”
He leaned back into the chair and smiled.
“All you have to do is side with my version of events. Everything you’ve ever wanted, and all for what? A teensy, tiny recording stating that Ryker founded and governs the Pit.”
He wanted her to betray Ryker? His own father? Poor Ryker. At one time Josef’s offer would have been more than enough to tempt her. Now, she realized that she didn’t want just a pack. She had that with Jefferson. No, she wanted more—a family. She didn’t want power; she wanted a place to belong. Acceptance. People that cared for her despite her shortcomings. Ryker had given all that to her.
Her heart thudded in her chest and her nostrils flared. She swallowed. Her plan had been to play it smart, but that wasn’t an option. Not anymore. Licking her lips, she worked to keep her voice level. “I’m going to have to politely decline.”