by Eva Gordon
Yesterday, the prince spent hours reviewing many of his lost memories with Henrik, a friend he didn’t remember. He’d studied dozens of photos on a big screen. The two of them together at a rally, calling for the enemies of mankind to rise and take their place as supreme rulers of the earth. Watching his father, King Wolfstrom eating the flesh of a human male captured in their territory. He cringed with disgust rather than blood lust. Funny, he hated the thought of hurting humans. The pictures of his men, powerful betas, loyal to him since before the change drew a blank.
Visually all the photos made sense, but the smells in the entire castle were wrong.
Most disturbing, he remembered his buxom mate, Agrippa. Beautiful, but with a smile that hinted at evil or betrayal. A stranger. An enemy, not a mate. Odd. In human form, his amnesia was excusable, but one's wolf never forgot a true mate. Not even in death.
He showered and dressed. When he returned to the living room, he caught a whiff of a familiar scent, savoring the aroma. Had his mate returned?
He inhaled and closed his eyes. Syrupy honey. Rose petals. Spring blossoms. Warmth.
Images and the scent of the woods. Running with a small wolf. Fear for her life. A dead bear.
Mounting the little wolf. Her sweet moans.
Mine. Abella.
Slade grimaced as his head raged in agony, and he crumbled to the floor. The more he thought about her, the greater the throbbing. Fuck! Pain provided a barrier against remembering. Must fight the pain.
Her sweet voice echoed in his mind. Slade, don’t forget me.
Cricket.
A bolt of light blinded him with a sharp stab of pain, and he groaned. The torment passed.
Memories flooded his mind. Parents, siblings, dead. His eyes prickled with tears. Yukon territory. Prince Slade.
Missing werewolves. Mission. Abella. Capture.
Fuck. He stood; his heart pounding and his hackles up.
Find her. Protect.
His fangs emerged, his fur surged on his arms, preparing to shift. To kill.
A knock on the door interrupted his shift. “Sir, is everything okay?” Outside his room, a beta stood guard, for his protection Wolfstrom had said. The oath breaker dared to claim him as his son.
Slade stiffened and narrowed his eyes toward the door. Save Cricket. Complete the mission. Against hundreds following the evil commands of a tyrant? Not possible. Not as Slade, but as Bain. Now I have the advantage. He took a long breath and slowly exhaled. “Come in.”
The beta entered and bowed. “Prince Bain, is everything okay?”
He rubbed his fingers on the corner of his brow. “I just had a throbbing headache.”
“I’ll send for some pain medication.”
“No. The pain is subsiding.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll see Henrik now.”
He bowed. “Shall I call him, sir?”
Slade figured Henrik worked in the lab. “Yes, in the meantime I’d like to meet with my betas.” Glean more information.
“Sir, they left for a blood hunt.”
The Blood hunt was a way to exercise young werewolves and improve their hunting skills. “What type of game?”
The beta lifted his chin and smiled. “Human.”
Slade’s skin tightened, but he kept a cool demeanor. “The most challenging game.”
“Indeed, sir. This man is armed and given a mile lead.”
Slade cocked his head. “What type of weapon?”
“Assault weapons and a knife. He was our arms dealer, but he double crossed us.”
They dealt with arms dealers? What else were they involved with? “Perhaps, I can hunt this one myself.”
“Sorry, sir, Henrik says you need more rest.”
“I’ll go downstairs and find something to eat.” Yesterday, he’d explored the castle in an attempt to jar his memory. Wolfstrom had accompanied him and fed him false memories.
“Yes, sir. I’ll let Henrik know you’re in the dining hall.”
“He’s here?”
“Yes.”
Crap. He wanted to look for Cricket. “Fine.”
The beta called Henrik and then escorted Slade. Two rooms away, he caught her scent. Abella. His wolf roared to knock down her door and lick every inch of her, but her life and the lives of others depended on him acting the role of Prince Bain, son of Wolfstrom. He sighed. Soon, my little wolf.
“Feeling better, Prince Bain?” asked the beta.
“Much better.”
Except for the kitchen workers and a few omegas, the wolves were gone. The blood hunt. Not very sporting to hunt one single man. Even with the possibility the man could kill one, or even a few, he was destined to meet a grisly end.
His beta guard ordered the cooks to get breakfast for him. Slade sat on the long table, alone. He wished he could snoop a bit more, but in order to do that he’d need to dispose of his guard. The aroma of bacon reminded him of his hunger. The omega servant brought him eggs, bacon and a steak. Good. No human on the menu.
Henrik walked in as Slade took his first sip of dark roast coffee. “Prince Bain. I’m so happy you are up and about. Feeling better, yes?” He pulled a chair next to Slade and the servant brought him an extra setting and cup of coffee.
“Yes.” Slade slurped coffee and smiled. “I must see Agrippa.”
“No worries, she’ll return by dinner.”
“Good.”
“Do you remember her scent?”
“I do. It all makes sense. Although, her smell didn’t bring back my past memories, I’m beginning to understand who I am.”
“Wonderful.” He stared at him over the rim of his cup. “No major headaches as you remembered?”
He couldn’t lie, since his beta guard knew. “Yes, but when I remembered Agrippa, the pain subsided.”
“Good. Don’t worry, headaches are normal, but if they become intolerable I have stronger drugs.”
I bet you do. “Is Father leading the hunt?”
“Yes. He wanted you to come, but not until you’re well. For now, let’s catch up.”
Like how you lost your ear? Slade returned to slicing his steak. “How often do we hunt humans?”
“Twice a week, normally before a rally. Tonight, Wolfstrom will address the packs.”
“Have I hunted humans?”
“But of course. In fact, you slaughtered the ones who found the old Nazi relics in the jungle. Of course, the national news blamed their disappearance on drug dealers. They’ll never find their bodies.”
“Let me guess, you added them to a stew?”
“Nothing beats hiding the evidence in one’s digestive system.”
His wolf fought to tear him apart, but not now. Must win his trust. Play along. Cricket said Henrik had the master key. Win his trust, get the key code, find her and kill him. Or maybe kill him, get the key code and find her.
“Agrippa will be so happy to see you remember her or at least the fact you share a bond.”
Slade laughed. “How could I forget her boobs? Trust me. I am anxious to refresh my memory of them.”
Henrik studied him. “Do you remember a human named Jack?”
He shook his head. “I don’t remember any humans.”
“What about a runt named Cricket?”
Slade wrinkled his nose. “Cricket?” He creased his brow. “Nothing. Odd name.”
“Yes. She was a spy along with a human, but despite her betrayal, your father wants to keep her around.”
“Spy? Who did they work for?”
“The Keep.”
He tilted his head to convey confusion. “The Keep exists?”
“Very much so.”
“Why keep the runt bitch alive?”
“According to your father, she survived Variant Midgard, and her blood serum provided the anecdote.”
Slade stiffened. The bastard had used her as a guinea pig. Mauling Wolfstrom clouded his wolf’s need for revenge. The fact she lived allowed him to continue the
ruse. “But werewolves don’t develop the virus.”
“True. She, being nearly human, has been the exception. If she’d not shifted, I am most certain she wouldn’t have survived.” Henrik narrowed his eyes.
Did he suspect the truth? For her, you bastard, I’ll smile. He met Henrik’s eyes and exuded calm. “Indeed. Interesting.”
Cricket stretched out the last of her kinks. Ah, better after a long sleep in a real bed and a fresh shower. She still looked pale, but at least they brought her personal cosmetics, including her red lipstick and compact. The same compact where Jack had stuffed their coordinates.
Now all she needed was a phone. Shouldn’t be a problem since they communicated with one another throughout the territory. How do you snatch one from an alert werewolf? Distractions, bribes, and stealth? She donned her white coveralls and frowned. White is not my color.
The door unlocked, and Henrik entered. He sniffed twice. “I’m happy to see you’re feeling better, yes?”
Cricket bowed and muttered, “I’d feel much better if I can get out of zee master race territory.”
Henrik huffed. “I assume your disrespect is due to your greater human nature, beta.”
Beta, my ass. “See, that’s what I don’t get. Why keep me and harvest my eggs? How do I fit into the master species scheme of things?”
“Wolfstrom thinks your progeny can be our worker bees.”
Now I’m all for birth control. She folded her arms. “You mean slaves.”
He laughed. “Purebred humans will be our slaves. Your offspring will be an intermediary species. Their masters. Our middle men.”
“I doubt humans will put up with their low status.”
“Oh, but they shall. You made that possible.”
“Really, I don’t remember that small detail.”
“Quite simple. Your blood serum is the cure for Variant Midgard. Any dissent and we’ll threaten to infect them. If they agree to our terms, we’ll offer them the cure. Wolfstrom even hopes to develop a vaccine in the next year. Fortunately, we have enough of your serum.”
Cricket’s skin tightened. Better to go along with them. For now. “How do I know I’m on the winning side?”
Henrik grinned, baring long canines. “Trust me. You are.”
As much as she knew the outcome, a deep desire to scratch out his eyes urged her to lunge at him. She clasped her hands together, keeping her claws in check. I’m not going to die a stupid death. Mission. Contact Team Greywolf. Stop their evil plans. Rescue Slade. Or was it too late? Was Slade as brainwashed as the other kidnapped werewolves? “What about Slade?”
“The prince is no longer Slade.”
Cricket swallowed a painful lump in her throat. “So your drug worked.”
“Indeed, my formula finally did. Both on him and a stubborn Siberian wolf named Nikolay. The two appear to have dominant traits for their wolf side and will make excellent sires.”
“You are not the only one who thinks Prince Slade is quite the stud.” She hadn’t seen Slade for almost a week. “This drug of yours, how fast does it work?”
“The amnesia begins the same night the treatment is administered then we implant vague new memories and it works. In a few weeks, he will think he’s remembered his past. Like the others, including Randi whose trail you followed to us.”
Trapped you mean. “So are you keeping Nikolay and Slade away from the others?”
“Nikolay now goes by the name, Gregarin, and has been reunited with his mate.”
“As in your selected female?”
“Precisely. When he woke, she sat by his side.”
“Ditto for Slade, I suppose.”
“Agrippa, formerly Sandra Lupus will be his escort at tonight’s rally.”
“Dr. Warner’s kidnapped mental patient?” She’d been suffering from morphopsychosis and had nearly killed an alpha female for the male.
“She’s sane enough for the prince.”
“What makes you think she won’t go psycho mom?”
“Don’t worry. The omegas will raise the pups. Naturally, the prince will have more than one mate.”
“Sounds like the lycan version of the Nazi’s Lebensborn program,” she smirked. The experiment forced kidnapped so-called racially pure Aryan women to have children with SS officers.
“We are not the only packs who value good breeding.” He smirked. “Runts and omegas, for example have never been allowed to mate with higher ranked weres.”
Good point. Her mother, an omega and her father, an alpha, had broken the rule resulting in her birth. Slade wouldn’t have broken the rule to take her as a mate. If they ever returned, they wouldn’t even be fuck buddies. He owed it to his dead pack to continue his royal line. “Prince Slade being a man’s man will no doubt enjoy his role as stud.”
“Indeed. Operation She-wolf will commence soon.”
“The kidnapping of alpha females?”
“Once they accept our customs, they’ll be happy to become queens.”
“You mean memory wipe and mind control.” Cricket thought of Rylee. The alpha leader chose not to mate and devoted her life to the LIA. It was possible she could still give birth to a litter. Doubtful Rylee would succumb to their drugs, but then again if Slade did, she just might. Her ambitious alpha sisters on the other hand would jump at the chance to continue their bullying ways.
“Re-educated.”
“After the abductions, the packs are ready. I highly doubt you can go in and grab pack members willy nilly.”
“Some we will, as you say, grab. However, others will be won over by our males.”
“Brainwashed males.”
“Not all brainwashed. Raulf joined without one drop of amnesia drugs. He might consider one or both of your available alpha sisters.”
“Half-sisters. Anyway, your stench will alert everyone.”
“Ah, you forget my brilliant potion to hide our scent. Handsome Raulf will need no reason to hide his scent.”
“And you trust Raulf?”
“Raulf was instrumental in getting us hooked up with illegal arms.”
“Will he find a mate before or after you release your bioweapon?”
“We will commence Ragnarok soon, and then we’ll claim our selected females”
“Soon as in when?” As much as she despised her sisters, many in her pack were kin, and they would die protecting them.
“We may begin in spots where werewolves are not found, but Wolfstrom will announce our new beginnings at our rally.”
“You mean the apocalypse.”
“We prefer to call it human pest extinction.”
Cricket must contact Rylee as soon as possible. If need be, she’d risk her life to help save humanity and other werewolves from being mind-wiped. “Heinous.”
Henrik laughed. “Come, I’ll introduce you to Wolfstrom’s son, Prince Bain.”
“I’d rather see Slade.”
“You will. Sooner than you think.” He opened the door, and she followed him out.
They entered a palatial living room. “Nice digs.” Then again, most evil dictators had the best homes.
Henrik narrowed his eyes. “This is our supreme leader’s residence.”
Two guards opened another door, and Wolfstrom walked in with Slade and Raulf.
Henrik and Cricket bowed. Her heart pounded.
Wolfstrom spoke, “Allow me to introduce my son, Prince Bain and my nephew Prince Raulf.”
Cricket ignored Raulf and gaped. Slade’s cold green eyes stared back at her. “No.”
Dressed in a black uniform, the prince sniffed in distain. “The little bitch that tried to betray us.”
“Slade, it’s me. Cricket.” She wanted to give him her real name, Abella, but not with Wolfstrom and Henrik present. She needed to hold him, listen to his strong heartbeat, and enjoy his scent of Yukon tundra. Cricket stepped closer.
He growled. “On your knees, runt.”
Cricket obeyed. She knelt and lowered her chin. “Yes,
my master.”
Chapter 18
Slade gazed down at Cricket as she trembled on her knees. Safe. Her scent warmed his heart. Yet, she appeared pale and skinnier, still recovering from the virus that nearly killed her. He fought the urge to cradle her in his protective arms. Not now. In order to escape, he must continue the charade. “Father, this inferior runt is tarnishing our den.”
Cricket clenched her fists.
Henrik stepped too damn close into Slade’s personal space. “Prince Bain, I only brought her here to see if you recognize her. She claims she knows you.”
Cricket lifted her chin, her face pinched in contempt.
Sorry, honey, it’s just an act. He cocked his head, sniffed and then circled her. The taint of illness still on her.
“Do you, son?” asked Wolfstrom.
Slade scoffed. “No. Father, I do not.”
Wolfstrom and Henrik studied him for any clue he’d lied. His control over his emotions, a superior trait passed on from his Yukon pack allowed him to fool them. The same trait that protected him from the mind-wipe. The Siberian werewolf who stubbornly held onto his identity finally succumbed to the new drug, adding credibility to Slade’s alteration.
Wolfstrom scowled at her. “Get up, runt.”
Cricket stood and lowered her head.
He sensed her defeated thumping heartbeat and the welled tears behind her amber eyes. If only he could tell her, it was all an act. “I don’t recognize her.” He inclined his head. “Did I meet her before my temporary amnesia?”
Henrik smiled. “Yes, she and her human lover shoved you off the cliff. Nearly killed you.”
Cricket sighed in defeat.
Slade grabbed her arm and jerked her up to face him. “Bitch! Too bad he’s dead. Eating him would have been a pleasure.”
She gasped.
He chuckled. “Don’t be so shocked. Like Father, I enjoy human meat.” The drug dealer they had hunted as game was already dead and, disgusting as it was, eating his heart had proved his loyalty.
Cricket’s heart broke. Brainwashed and now a cannibal. “The Slade I knew would never resort to cannibalism.”