Sylvia's Torment (Enforcers and Coterie Book 2)

by Veronica Del Rosa

  “I’m fine. He hasn’t hurt me, and I don’t think he will. At least nothing permanent. He thinks we’re mates,” she spat out the words, disgusted by his twisted claims.

  Derek tensed, a low growl erupting from him.

  “I’ll kill him. When I find him, I’ll tear him apart.”

  “It’s okay, darling.” Odd amusement bubbled in her as she tried to comfort him.

  She, at least, knew what was happening. He lived in the world of unknown.

  Knowing they had a short time and he needed as much information as possible, she told him what she’d learned.

  Sylvia tilted her head, hearing a faint click that didn’t belong in the dream. “I think he’s back. I don’t want him catching me sleeping.”

  She gave him another quick kiss then forced herself awake.

  She took a few moments to center her mind and become aware of her surroundings. The low inhale and exhale from D was off to her right, far enough away she didn’t feel threatened. Through her eyelashes, she studied him. There had to be a weakness she could exploit, a way to get under his skin.

  Distain coupled with sexual advances would be the best way to keep him off guard. He’d never believe she suddenly capitulated. He would, however, believe her attracted to him while fighting it.

  As much as it disgusted her, she knew she could do it. She’d had a few assignments as an Enforcer to act friendly to sleazy men, make them feel special when all she wanted to do was rip their throats out.

  “What do you want?” The hatred she felt spilled out, making her voice harsh. To counteract her natural feelings, she thought of Derek, of his loving hands, deep voice and gorgeous body. The scent of desire shamed her when she realized she was correct. His sense of smell was stronger.

  D’s pupils dilated, and he took a deeper breath. She wanted to scream that it wasn’t for him, that she wanted him dead by her hand. But she held her tongue, letting him believe she lusted for him.

  On shaky legs she pushed herself upright, not wanting to be in a position of weakness. She gave him what Derek called her haughty look. Chin tilted upwards, shoulders straight, eyes narrowed and a mocking grin all showed him he was beneath her notice.

  It excited him even more for her to treat him as worthless. Well, who was she to disappoint him?

  “I said, what do you want?” She stared him down.

  A thrill of victory danced through her when he lowered his eyes first. He was not Alpha material, no matter what he thought. Or maybe he just liked being dominated by a woman. If that was true, then she’d control him with ease given her natural tendencies towards dominance.

  It was one of the reasons she enjoyed being with Derek. Outside of the bedroom, he rarely backed down from her and never would have lowered his eyes.

  “I brought you more food. Oh, and something to drink.”

  For the first time, she noticed another covered dish in his hands.

  Did he get them on sale? It seemed an odd thing for him to have, covered dishes. With a small flourish, he removed the top, and the delicious scent of breaded pork chops and scalloped potatoes reached her nose.

  She furrowed her brow in confusion. How long had she slept for? The previous meal he’d brought her had been supper choices, and so was this meal.

  Misunderstanding her stare, he said, “I wasn’t sure what you liked, since you didn’t eat much in the compound. Werewolves like meat, right? And you ate the potatoes from the last meal I made you.”

  She wanted to sweep it all onto the floor and punch him until her anger subsided. Rail at him for mentioning that horrible place so causally, disregarding the unimaginable and inhumane torture they had put her through. Torture he had a hand in. None of the guards had tried to stop what the scientists did. In fact, many of them had helped.

  “Put it on the bed,” she demanded.

  Inwardly, she cringed at her rude tone. Her parents had taught her better manners and she clamped down on the “please” that automatically came to her lips. She watched impassively as he did her bidding. He balanced the plate carefully atop the remains of the destroyed mattress.

  “Sit. Eat,” he demanded in turn.

  Well, he didn’t seem to suffer any remorse from his lack of politeness. She wavered, wondering if she should deny him. The tightening of his lips and the banked anger in his eyes decided it for her. She’d pushed him enough for now.

  Gingerly sitting down, careful not to disturb the plate, she held out a hand for the cutlery. This time she ate slowly, savouring each bite. She had to admit this was doing wonders for some of her phobias, or at least for now.

  Perhaps she’d end up with worse ones later on.

  “Why?” she asked. “Why did you work for them?”

  He looked surprised. “For the money, of course. They paid quite well.”

  “But what they were doing, it was horrible. Didn’t it bother you?”

  “Why should it? There are always causalities in war.” He shrugged, not understanding her disgust and hatred. “And make no mistake, there is a war going on. The humans are getting tired of being the weaker race, and we’re changing the status quo.

  “Plus, they gave me first choice for what I wanted injected in me. They wanted to reward me for my work. I brought them quite a few of the subjects. In fact, I was the one who captured you.” The pride in his voice churned her stomach, and she regretted eating.

  She turned her face away from him. The mere sight of him filled her with disgust.

  His hands shot out and gripped her face tightly, forcing her to look at him. “Make no mistake, you are mine and will always be mine. I picked you out, and you’ve proved worthy. I don’t care what you think or how you feel so long as you’re obedient. Do you understand me?”

  Unable to break eye contact, she saw the deep cruelty and lack of compassion in him. He could and would hurt her if he thought it necessary. He had no softer feelings for her. She was a possession and nothing else.

  “Yes,” she whispered, unwilling to outright defy him just yet.

  His fingers tightened painfully, digging into her cheekbones. She refused to protest or jerk away. He was testing her, seeing how much she could take. He’d have to do a lot worse before he’d hear a sound coming from her. She’d found a well of strength deeper than she thought possible.

  “Good. You remember that.” He leaned over until their foreheads were almost touching, his fingers still gripping her. “Damn, you’re so beautiful. And you’re mine.”

  Before her mind understood his words, he tilted her head upwards and covered her lips with his. He ground his mouth against hers, forcing it open. She almost gagged when his tongue pushed into her mouth.

  She froze.

  Three months of conditioning took over. Remain still, don’t provoke him. The scientists and guards had shown her time and again what happened when she disobeyed. A part of her screamed to do something, anything, but her muscles locked in fear.

  He forced her down onto the ruined mattress. The cutlery clattered against the plate as they landed on the floor. The noise distantly registered, and she thought briefly of the mess it caused before dismissing it.

  Sylvia suffered through his groping, his hands rough on her breasts. His body covered hers, keeping her in place with his weight. His hard erection pushed against her hip. Wet kisses on her neck, skipping pass the collar. When he reached her shoulder, he leveraged away from her and ripped her t-shirt.

  The tearing sound roused her from her fear.

  Stop him. Tell him no!

  “Please, stop,” she whispered, fearful of retribution.

  When he shoved aside her bra and lowered his head to her breast, she finally had the strength to move. Placing her hands at his shoulders, she pushed hard against him.

  “No, stop!”

  He raised his head, and she shuddered at the feral look in his eyes. This was not a man who would listen to reason. He’d already proven he didn’t care about another’s pain, had caused plenty of i
t while employed at the compound. He would gladly take what he thought was his due.

  He snapped at her, “You are not in control here. You will obey me. I don’t care if it’s easy or hard on you. In fact, I’d prefer it if you fought. It’ll be more fun when I finally break you, make you beg for it.”

  He bent down and bit her breast hard enough to draw blood.

  The thought of this psycho raping her broke through her mental numbness. Meekly rolling over and showing her belly would not happen. She was a fighter, a warrior, and she’d show him what a werewolf was capable of doing.

  Claws pushed through her fingertips and she slashed at D, catching the side of his face. He laughed and grabbed her wrists, forcing her arms above her head. She bucked wildly, trying to force him off of her.

  She wanted to change and fully embrace her wolf side. The collar gave her pause. It could choke her. It fit snug on her slender throat, and as a wolf, she had a much thicker neck. That didn’t mean she was without other weapons. Although it was a strain on her, she could hold a partial shift for a few minutes. Nowhere near as long as an Alpha could and with less control over which parts held the shift.

  She retracted her claws, not wanting to waste the energy on holding them at the ready. Instead, she concentrated on her teeth and felt her jaw elongate. She snapped at him, narrowly missing his cheek. He pulled back with a curse then brought his head back down, slamming it against her forehead. Pain exploded in her mind, but she determinedly ignored it.

  The lacerations from her claws dripped blood freely onto her face and the smell had her wolf trying to break free. She nipped at him again, this time catching his ear. Her tooth pierced through the fleshy lobe, and he let go of a wrist. He punched her temple several times, and she released his ear, a little dazed from the pounding.

  Refusing to give in to the pain, she took advantage of his anger and carelessness. He’d had her pinned. Now she had an arm free, which she used to elbow him in the throat. His sudden wheezing was her reward. Both hands flew to his bruised larynx, releasing her.

  Using all her strength, she shoved at his shoulders, pushing him off her and onto the floor. She jumped off the bed and kicked his ribs. She grinned, savage and feral, at the satisfying crack of bones.

  He’d wanted to fight a werewolf. Now he’d deal with the consequences. She kicked him again, using her heel to push into his sternum. He fell onto his butt, arms bracing behind him. He glared at her, and the blood added fierceness to his features.

  Springing to his feet, his hands moved in a blur as he punched at her kidneys then her jaw. She blocked his moves, familiar with the dizzying speed natural to her kind. They traded several punches and kicks, each blocking the other. Sylvia noticed he was flagging a little, his hits and blocks coming in just a fraction slower. She, however, rode an adrenaline high. It’d been too long since she’d had free reign in a fight. She’d had to curb her base nature in the compound lest she wake up healing countless broken bones. Now it was a life or death situation, and her blood sang.

  When her fist made connection with his jaw, she knew it was time to move in for the kill. She rushed him, putting all her weight into her attack. As he stumbled into the wall, he smacked his head off a stud.

  With brutal efficiency she tore at his throat with her teeth. Blood spurted, coating her mouth. She felt his life ebbing away with each pound of his weakening heart.

  Amidst the thrill of the kill, the throbbing ache in her stomach was a mild nuisance. She dismissed it along with the other nagging pains she’d accumulated.

  The ache blossomed into excruciating agony.

  D died with a vicious smile as his hand released its death grip on the knife he’d embedded into her stomach. He’d managed to yank the knife down and tear a gaping wound into her flesh. She stared at the handle, trying to comprehend the sight. It’d been part of the cutlery set she’d used with her meal. He must have grabbed it early on when she’d shoved him to the floor.

  Furious that he’d gotten in one last hit before dying she jerked it from her flesh and hurled it at the wall. The knife slammed into the stud. The handle quivered from the force of her throw.

  She ripped off her torn shirt and used it to wipe away the seeping blood around her ragged flesh. For another race, it would’ve been best to leave the knife in her side. Her accelerated healing would work against her, though. She shuddered at the thought of tearing the blade out of her gut after she’d healed around it.

  Before the blood obscured her view, she saw the two-inch gash from her belly button down. Sylvia balled up the shirt and applied pressure to her stomach hoping to stanch the flow, at least until the healing started. She glanced down at D’s body and almost gave into the temptation to kick him.

  Lousy son of a…

  She stalked towards the door, which he’d been kind enough to leave open, and went to find a bathroom. The chain stopped her short and almost choked her as the collar dug into her throat. She’d forgotten about it. Anger and rage boiling over, she reversed direction and stomped to the bed. Not stopping to think, she slammed her fists into the bed frame again and again.

  The satisfying crack of metal breaking finally stopped her. Panting heavily, she removed the chain from the broken and twisted steel.

  Letting the links trail behind her, she cursed her stupidity as she pressed harder into her gut wound. Pounding on the bed had caused her stomach to bleed profusely. Judging from her now wobbly walk, she couldn’t afford to lose any more.

  The effort costing her dearly, she forced one foot in front of the other as she weaved toward the kitchen. A phone, she needed a phone. Call a mage, teleport her to a hospital. Stitches wouldn’t help, but a blood transfusion would hit the spot right about now.

  In the kitchen she leaned heavily against the wall before stumbling to the counter. Strength waning, she glanced around for a phone. If he only had a cell phone, she was screwed. Energy was in short supply now. A return trip to the bedroom to frisk his dead body wasn’t possible. She rested her head on the counter for a moment and stared at the blood she’d streaked on the clean white surface.

  White. Red. White. Red.

  The urge to shut her eyes, rest for a while and simply forget whispered to her. Told her the pain would go away if she slept for a while. Just a small snooze. Her eyes fluttered down, and she almost gave in.

  Panic assaulted her and demanded she open her eyes.

  Don’t sleep! Don’t give up!

  How long would she be out cold? Would she wake from it?

  Derek didn’t know she was fine.

  Or as fine as I can be with a gaping hole in my stomach, she thought wryly.

  Prying her eyes open, she turned her head slowly and saw what she had missed in her first once-over of the kitchen – a phone hidden under the top cupboards. She flung her arm out to snag the cord and pull it towards her. The handset clattered onto the countertop, and she knocked the phone off its hook.

  Hazy fog drifted through her mind. A number pad, each square so precise with bright white numbers. She touched one of the little squares, changing the white to red. Blinking at the colours, she tried to make sense of them.

  Why did she need a phone? Didn’t she have a cell? What was so important about this phone?

  A strident beeping cut through the fog, and she latched onto the noise, a lifeline in the sea of pain. Derek, she had to call Derek. She couldn’t remember why. Just knew she had to call him. While her mind couldn’t recall his number, her fingers knew it by heart. She never used speed dial to call him, liked the intimacy of knowing his phone number.

  “What?” Derek’s voice drifted to her.

  She didn’t have the energy to grab the phone and lift it to her ear.

  Tried to tell him where she was, except she didn’t know. Wanted to say she was safe, but the words wouldn’t come out.

  She whispered, “Derek…” as her world dimmed.

  She tried. Tried so hard to stay conscious.

  Blood loss
pulled her down into the darkness.

  Distantly she heard her mate yell her name as she slumped to the floor.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Get Markus on the phone!” Derek yelled to Zmitro. He turned to Isaac. “Get one of our tech guys on the phone. Trace this damn call. It’s Sylvia, but she’s not answering me.”

  He paced the sitting room floor, fear and frustration consuming him. He ignored the chatter from his Deltas, trusting them to carry out his orders. If there was any pushback, he knew they could handle it.

  Derek tried again to locate Sylvia through the Alpha link and the flickering lifemate bond. A hazy impression of her outside of the city. Somewhere north. Nothing concrete, though, and he was ready to rip someone’s head off.

  A faint tingle of energy washed over him. Pinpointing the magic was simple, and he strode over to the couch seconds before Markus appeared. In other circumstances, he would’ve enjoyed the startled curse from his friend. Rarely did anything rattle Markus, and he’d given up trying years ago. Now, his mind was too preoccupied to care.

  “Sylvia called. She’s not answering me, but I’m having the tech guys trace the call. Once they have the location, I want you to teleport me there.”

  “If I don’t know the area, I can’t teleport you there. You know that,” Markus stated.

  “Then find a portal through Fae. I don’t care how you do it. Just do it,” Derek demanded.

  Shocked gasps came from Heather and Kurt, unable to believe he’d issued an order to this mage. Normally he would’ve been polite, would’ve demanded nicely and pretended to give the option of refusing.

  Today, he didn’t care.

  Either Markus obeyed him, or they would come to blows.

  “Easy, my friend,” Markus said calmly as he clapped Derek on the shoulder.

  The subtle pressure warned him Markus would only let him push so far. He grunted and backed down. His friend would do everything he could to help, even bending or breaking the rules.