Rescued & Ravished: An Alpha's Conquest (A Paranormal Ménage Romance)

by Sophie Chevalier

  She blinked at him.

  You know I love you.

  It felt like her stomach was slowly filling with Pop Rocks.

  “It’s alright. Don’t say anything. Don’t feel pressured. I’m only telling you so you can understand just how far I’ll go to defend you.”

  “Dane…” A man’s never said that to me before. Not seriously, not like this. She bit her lip. “I… I don’t… I’ve never…”

  “Wait for me,” he said again, kissing her. “I won’t be gone long. Stay inside.”

  She nipped his bottom lip, and he growled appreciatively.

  “I’ll—I’ll wait.”

  “Good.” He ran a hand through her hair, then stepped back. “Nap. Snack. Try to relax.”

  “Okay.” Did he really just tell me he loved me?! Really?! “Bye.”

  He smiled—a reassuring smile—and left the bedroom. She could hear him in the hall: shrugging on a coat, opening the cabin’s door. Leaving.

  She sat on the bed, feeling hot and cold at once.

  “Ginger… I love you.” “Ginger… I love you.” “Ginger… I love you.”

  The warm, kind way his voice had sounded—truly tender, truly honest—made her heart speed up. It felt like her chest was full of butter.

  He loves me.

  I can’t believe he loves me.

  Dane loves me!

  She bit back a giddy squeal, smiling, ready to jump on the bed like a child—

  But then, almost immediately, a hammer of gloom slammed down on her.

  He loves me and it’s forbidden.

  He loves me and I could die tonight.

  I could die because he loves me.

  I could die.

  Chapter 25

  She was facedown moping on the couch when a knock from the cabin door startled her right onto the floor.

  “Dane?” she called, on high alert. Don’t be fucking stupid, Ginj! He wouldn’t knock. He lives here. Do you knock when you get home from work? Come on!

  “Better,” a female voice answered, loudly, through the door. “Catríona!”

  “Oh!” Ginger brightened, rose, and hurried to go let her in. Catríona was a welcome guest. It would be a relief not to be alone, but also to have some female company.

  “I brought apple spice cookies,” Cat said, as the door swung inwards, smiling her pretty, reassuring smile. “Also some bridies, salmon chowder, and cloud biscuits. How about it?”

  “If I ever win the lottery, you can have half,” Ginger said gratefully; her stomach clenched with hunger. Didn’t even realize I was hungry.

  “Haven’t you, though?” Cat said, grinning. “MacAlister’s rich as a lord.”

  “So what?” Ginger asked, flushing; she stepped aside so Cat could come in, and shut the door behind her. Catríona went right through to the kitchen—Ginger padding after—and began setting up lunch, unashamedly going through Dane’s cabinets for dishware and cups.

  “‘So what’?” Cat echoed temperately. “Don’t pretend, mo muirnín.”

  “I’m not with him. I can’t be,” Ginger said stubbornly.

  Cat looked away from a cabinet she was investigating, her eyes thoughtful. “No. I suppose not. With things as they are, anyway.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Nothing. Let me serve up the food. I brought tea, too.”

  She was efficient. In just a minute she’d unpacked all the dishes and was transferring them to the tableware.

  “Thank you,” Ginger said, watching her plate the meal. “You’ve been… really kind to me.”

  “Oh, don’t take that gloomy tone,” Catríona chided. “Sit down and eat. You’re looking a little worse for wear. Still lovely, of course. Just strained. Pale.”

  “Pale? That’s just my skin.”

  “We’ll see. Eat that chowder, hon.”

  The food was good, and Ginger put a lot of it away. Halfway through, though, the idea that this could be her final meal—her execution meal—killed her appetite. She stopped eating and stared at the refrigerator, glassy-eyed.

  “Don’t be like that,” Catríona said sharply. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

  “Is it?” Ginger asked, seriously. I miss Laila. I want my mom.

  “It is,” Cat said firmly. “Have a cookie and buck up.”

  That brought Ginger back to Earth; it was ridiculous. She had to snort. “A cookie? That’ll fix everything, eh?”

  “They’re good,” Cat insisted, holding out the Tupperware container they were jammed in. “You’ll find they have a particular kind of magic when it comes to lifting the spirit.”

  “Alright. Guess I can’t pass up magic,” Ginger capitulated, taking one. It was good: sweet and soft.

  “See? Positively medicinal, they are.”

  “Yeah. Hey, Cat. I have a question.” I need to think about things that are not myself. Just for a little bit. Anything, as long as it’s not me. “How come you guys don’t go to the clanmeet on the Eastern seaboard? Dane mentioned the Cape Breton bears having been… um… ‘disinvited’? To that one?”

  “Oh. It’s actually not a very interesting story,” Cat said, biting into one of her cookies. “Don’t expect anything salacious. The new Alpha for the Eastern bears comes from a line that was exiled from Cape Breton, a hundred thirty years back. It’s an old grudge—stale, you ask me—but on principle, he forbade us from the Gathering. It’s in his power.” She shrugged. “The Western elders and their Alpha invited us here instead.”

  “Where’s our last Alpha? Of the West, I mean? Shouldn’t he be… here? I don’t know, like, defending his title, or something? I’ve only heard about Dane, and Hunter, and—”

  “Ah, Hunter,” Catríona said, too knowingly. “I wanted to talk about that.”

  “Wait, no.” Ginger flushed. How does she know?! Does everyone know?! I can’t deal with that conversation. “Answer my question first!”

  Cat gazed at her unreadably. Finally, she said, “He died.”

  “Died?” Ginger asked, shocked. “How?”

  Cat waved away the question. “Some other time.”

  “But—”

  “What will you do, when you leave here?” Cat cut in.

  “When I…?”

  “Mm-hm. I bet Dane would retain you, if you wanted that.” Her eyes narrowed. “You could keep working for him. He’s soft for you. It’s obvious to me, now.”

  “If it’s obvious to you, then it must be obvious to your elders.” Ginger felt sick.

  “No. Riona, maybe. Torin. The others don’t know him as well.”

  “But you can—can see it, it’s—”

  “Yes, well, I’ve managed to get friendly with the great man, haven’t I? The change in him is obvious, if you’re near enough.” She shifted in her chair. “Don’t be afraid. He won’t let anything hap—”

  “I keep hearing that,” Ginger broke in, her voice tart. “‘Don’t worry, Ginger.’ ‘Don’t be afraid.’ ‘You’ll be safe.’ ‘Nothing’s going to happen.’ Meanwhile, I’m actually not a total moron. I know where I am and what the stakes are. I’ve seen… frightening things, here… and I know I’m not valuable to your people.”

  Cat was watching her closely.

  “I’m going to a fucking terrifying, incomprehensible trial tonight. Honestly, it’s clear to me that there are interests in this—society—that will be served if Dane can be discredited, and I’m a convenient way to do that. He has enemies on the council, doesn’t he? He’s mentioned it, indirectly… and so have you. And there’s Gunnar, of course, and his people—they’re enemies too. And there’s the damning fact that he’s actually guilty of having affection for me.

  “Look, Cat,” she said, crossing her arms, “I know I could die. I’m afraid. I don’t know what to do with that information. I tried to run and I super, super failed—I did the best I could under my own power. Now I’m in Dane’s hands, and I trust him, but this isn�
�t about what he wants. I’m scared, and I’m in danger. Don’t lie to me about it.”

  There was a long, quiet minute. The kitchen wall clock ticked. The sound of rain, gentle as breath, filled the silence.

  “I’m not lying to you,” Catríona said finally. “Dane just won’t let anything happen to you. It’s as simple as that.”

  “You have a lot of faith in him.”

  “He should be Alpha. That means he’s strong enough for my faith.”

  Ginger sighed. “I’m starting to get this world, you know? Like, it’s making more sense to me, in a weird-ass way. I’m not really sure how I feel about that, mind, since you people are off your rockers. Crazy. Primordial.”

  Catríona smiled. “Don’t worry. You can’t really understand us, the way that you are—human. You’ll stay sane.” She rose. “I’m going to put the dishes in the dishwasher, hm?”

  “Sure. I’ll help.”

  “No. Sit.”

  Catríona’s voice was so firm that she did, putting a foot on the rim of her chair and wrapping her arms around the knee. “Tell me about your family, Cat.”

  “Sure, if you tell me about yours.”

  “Okay. I have a brother, working in China. And a mom and a dad, of course. They’re back in Boston. Your turn.”

  Cat threw a sarcastic look over her shoulder, loading up plates. “That wasn’t exactly worthy of Joyce…”

  “Yeah, I’m not a storytelling genius; it’s a tragedy but we’ll survive. Tell me about your people now.”

  “Well…” Cat gathered her cherry-red hair up into a ponytail. Her tall, ectomorphic body looked especially slight with her arms up. “I’ve an older sister, Eimhir. She has a man, Fingal, and together they have a mess of children—she’s birthed more than one litter, big ones, too. Scarily fertile woman.” She started loading again. “So there’s all my nieces and nephews, too. Love ’em. I really do. And there’s my man, Angus. Our parents, they’re back home… didn’t come to the Gathering this year. It’s all old news for them, I suppose.”

  “They all sound nice.”

  Catríona laughed, that feisty laugh she had. “They are. I wouldn’t tell them so, but…”

  Suddenly her head snapped up. She froze, as if she’d heard something.

  “What?” Ginger asked, disturbed, her good mood fizzling away. But she got no answer.

  Outside, there was the abrupt, unpleasant sound of saplings and underbrush ripping and giving way—the passage of big animals. Catríona came to the table, gripped Ginger’s arm, and hauled her to her feet.

  “Cat? What’s happening? Cat!”

  She was dragged into the living room, pushed onto a couch, and left there while Catríona went to the door. Not feeling particularly obedient, Ginger immediately popped up and followed her.

  But when she got to the open door and looked through, over Catríona’s shoulder, she wished she had stayed put.

  Outside, two black bears and a grizzly were lumbering across the clearing. They came to a halt right at the base of the porch, glowering, frightening. Ginger recognized one of them, at least—the sway-backed, coarse-furred black bear. It was Gunnar.

  “Dane MacAlister’s not here,” Catríona said, her voice arctic-cold. “Go as you came.”

  The bears twisted up, transformatively, into three people.

  “I am not here for him,” Gunnar said, leering; Ginger hated the sound of his voice. She couldn’t help but remember the night he’d caught her alone, the things he’d said, the way he’d touched her—squeezing her hip, her breast. “You tempt me… fertile. Supple… would you prefer to be my consort?”

  The next thing he said made ice of her heart.

  “I’m here for her. The girl.”

  “The girl?” Catríona sounded nakedly stunned—blindsided. She turned to look at Ginger, ponytail flipping, then she turned back to the bears. “What is this girl to you?”

  “I’ve come to claim her.” Gunnar smiled, pleased to reveal nothing.

  “Get off of MacAlister’s turf!” Catríona answered loudly. “You have no right to cross this threshold. Leave!”

  “I said it before, did I not? A lawbreaker has no rights. MacAlister forfeited this territory when he coupled with a human woman. Move aside, Mac an Tsaoir!”

  “How do you dare?!” Catríona shouted, truly offended, truly horrified. “You can’t come in! This is trespass! You’re in another man’s territory! You violate a sacred rule! Dane MacAlister claimed this land! Begone!”

  “I do not respect his claims, woman!”

  “Donaghue! Allaway! You can’t accept this?”

  But the two strangers with Gunnar were silent. Their faces were closed.

  “We’re taking her, Mac an Tsaoir. Move or be struck down!” Gunnar said fiercely.

  He bent low to the ground, sprouting fur, his joints cracking back into their ursine alignments. The other two followed suit, and there were three bears again, trudging slowly toward the porch stair.

  “Ginger!” Catríona said, urgently. “Run! Go!”

  “No! You can’t fight them!”

  “You can’t help! Run!”

  Ginger did run, but only as far as the kitchen. Weapons! Weapons! There has to be something!

  The knife rack. She heard Catríona scream something, enraged and afraid. Ginger pulled out the biggest knife there was, a blade of pure Scandinavian steel—but, looking at it, she was struck by its futility. There’s a fucking grizzly out there! It’s a tank! This is a toothpick! I might as well fight it with a nail file!

  She slammed the knife down on the counter and went through the cabinets; she left them all open as she searched through them feverishly. There was the sound of furniture breaking in the entry hall, a hoarse roar.

  Nothing—pots—no—nothing—

  Oh!

  A fire extinguisher. A small one, the size of a liter of soda.

  This’ll do. It’ll fucking do.

  She grabbed it and ran back for Cat. Sweat had broken out all over her body, dampening the back of her shirt. If only Dane was—

  Skidding to a stop in the living room, she gasped.

  What she saw was horrible: the two black bears were small enough to fit through the front door, and they were inside the cabin, attacking Catríona at both ends. One had its jaws clamped firmly on her ruff, while the other—Gunnar—was biting the lower curve of her back. She was lowing and snorting, trying to throw them off; the coffee table had been smashed, and one of the couches was on its side.

  The sight of the non-Gunnar bear fastened on Cat’s neck burned Ginger’s fear away—just for a second, but just long enough. All she felt was outrage.

  You’re about to get it, you filthy bastard!

  Unhesitatingly, she pulled the safety pin, unlocking the extinguisher. She aimed for the bear’s face and squeezed the lever.

  A spray of gas—carbon dioxide at fifteen-percent concentration—blasted its muzzle with firehose-power. It brayed, letting Catríona go, and—staggering crazily, blindly—crashed into the other sofa. Retching, it dropped spasmodically to the floor; its muzzle was white with foam.

  But Cat had inhaled some of the fumes—nonlethal, but incapacitating—and was shivering, flat on her belly. Too dizzy to get up. Too stunned to help.

  Ginger aimed the nozzle for Gunnar, but he paw-swiped the extinguisher from her hand before she could squeeze the trigger. It went spinning across the polished floor.

  Shit!

  He opened his mouth—she saw the whites of his canines—and lunged forward. His jaw closed on her thigh.

  She shrieked.

  He yanked to the side, unbalancing her, dragging her off her feet; she hit the floor hard. There was no pain—there was too much adrenaline for that—and even though the rush of survival hormones, she was aware it wasn’t as deep a bite as it could be—but there was fear. A lot of fear.

  He wasn’t trying to lame her—he just wanted pur
chase. He just wanted to get her down. And keep her down.

  Why? For what?!

  Gunnar let go of her leg—there was a horrible sound like a fork being pulled out of chicken—and changed back to a man. He sprang on top of her, smelling like damp places and wet fur, repulsive. She fought him—like a wildcat—but he was surprisingly strong, stronger than his reedy little body would suggest, and the epinephrine and the bleeding bite on her thigh were making her dizzy.

  “What do you want?” she screamed, struggling.

  He caught her wrists, held them down against the once-smooth floor—now it was scored with scratches from bear claws. Splinters prickled the back of her hands.

  “You seduced MacAlister. You seduced Beaumont—don’t think I didn’t know, girl. No one could steal from him unless they had turned him into pudding first.”

  “Get off of me, you—hideous tool—”

  “Then you ran. You tried to escape from here. Bold… daring… wily… you’re a resourceful girl. Shrewd. Full of fire. You would suit me well.”

  “Ugh!” she shrieked, disgusted. “It would suit me well if someone put you in a woodchipper! You make these people miserable!”

  “The foolish ones, yes! The rest I will make strong!” His one clear, unfrosted eye brightened with cold gold. “Would you like to see me do it?”

  “Why are you doing this?” She felt tears prick her eyes and hated it, knowing it made her look weak.

  “Because I desire you, girl. I desire you.” His mouth was close to hers. “I do. But I will not break our laws. No! Not like MacAlister… not like Beaumont. Weak creatures, both of them!” His grip tightened, whitening her skin. “I adhere to the ancient laws… yes. I am faithful… but I am merciful, too. I will show everyone just how merciful. I will turn you, girl—make you one of us. Then you can be spared. Then you can be mine.”

  “You are fucking coocoo bananas,” she hissed, sick with loathing. “Someone should shoot you and mount you in a lodge.”

  “None of our women will touch me,” Gunnar breathed, his breath sour with an old-meat bitterness. “They fear me, as any Alpha should be feared. It’s their right to reject me… they come from proud clans… their blood is sterling… they have privileges… but you. You’re no one. You have no clan. If I put the Mark on you, you would have to be mine—no matter what you wanted. No matter how you feel. Who could challenge me if I Marked you? Who could stand for you? You, a clanless girl? You have no one. No one.”