by Fran Lee
Mace dropped to his knees beside the male and caught his hair, dragging his head back hard. “You’re lying. I just left Kenna. The house is guarded far too closely after your brother got in. The tunnel has been sealed off. No one could have gotten past the guards.”
With a glance from Gant, Dune whirled to race back into the house to make certain that their mate was safe in her room. Gant caught Farris under the chin and shook him. “Where the fuck is Vincent? I’ll tear his throat out for this. I’m finished with waiting for him. I’m going after him, and none of your pack will survive. No one hurts Kenna. No one threatens her.”
Farris choked out a laugh. “You try to find him, and those pups are dead along with the bitch. The only thing that will save them is you three turning yourselves over to Vincent and his assassins.”
Mace was putting one huge hand around Kennard’s throat when Dune came racing from the house. “She’s gone! The protector that was standing guard is dead. I’m having the house and grounds searched. They can’t have gotten far.”
Gant’s face was contorted as he instantly shifted to his wolf, his shirt ripping to shreds as his body twisted and grew. His jeans split down the seams, and he tore them off with sharp teeth as Kennard’s maniacal laughter filled the moist cool air of the cellar.
Dune dragged him up from the floor by his hair as Mace stripped swiftly to shift. “I will rip your dick off and feed it to you…how would you like being a eunuch, Kennard? I’ll leave you alive and keep you as a slave. Would you enjoy that? I’ll put a silver collar on you so you can never shift again…you’ll live the rest of your miserable fucking life in hell. Unless you tell me where they took Kenna…”
* * * * *
The room she lay in was dark…the surface she lay upon was cold and damp. Moving her hand to touch her throbbing head was not an option, since her wrists were secured behind her back. The nausea wracking her stomach from the effects of the chloroform was easing somewhat. Good thing she didn’t feel the need to vomit. The foul smelling gag would have made it impossible in any case.
Listening to the muffled sounds coming from outside the room where she lay led her to believe she was in a cellar of some kind. Heavy footsteps came and went outside the room, but no one came to check on her. To see if she was awake…or dead…
She had no doubt who had taken her out of the house. There was only one person that hated the Dumonts enough to steal their alpha bitch. And heaven knew what the rat faced bastard was planning to do with her.
She had tried to shift upon awakening, but the silver collar secured around her neck had prevented it. How long she’d lain there escaped her. From what she knew of chloroform, she had likely only been out for a couple of hours, unless they’d re-dosed her at some point.
Her feet were not bound, but she would have a hard time of it getting to her feet with her arms trussed behind her. She had no desire to face-plant on a concrete floor. She shoved at the dirty cloth covering her mouth with her tongue, working at it with tongue and teeth until at last it slipped to her chin. She drew several deep breaths in through her mouth, and concentrated on the rope that secured her wrists.
If she could shift, her sharp claws could make short work of those ropes, but she figured that it would probably take her a week to saw the ropes apart on the rough floor…and she might end up bleeding to death as the same rough floor abraded her skin.
She rolled a couple of times until she bumped into a wall, and then struggled to sit up against it. It took her several tries, but she was finally upright, her back against a rough dirt wall. Yep. She was in a cellar. Too bad she wasn’t as limber as she had once been. The pups were too big now for her to manage to sit on her hands and try to squeeze her bound wrists under her ass and wiggle her legs through the circle of her arms.
She wondered if maybe she could use telepathy to reach her mates. She had done it over short distances, but she was pretty damn sure she wasn’t close enough to the compound to reach them. Yet she concentrated hard, picturing Mace, Gant, and Dune in her mind as she called out for help mentally. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, thinking hard and praying someone would hear her thoughts. At one point, she thought she felt a mental nudge, but it was so slight, she may have imagined it.
After what seemed like many hours, footsteps stopped on the other side of the door, and a key scraped in the lock. Wincing as light hit her in the eyes, she gasped as big hands grabbed her upper arms and dragged her roughly from the floor, and someone shoved the loose gag back into her mouth.
“Vincent wants to play, bitch…hope you like it rough…” the voice was a rasp against her neck as a hot tongue swiped up from the collar to her ear.
* * * * *
Mace moved quickly through the forest, following a familiar scent. Gant and Dune had split off in different directions, each accompanied by three enforcers. The protectors remained behind to guard the compound. The rabbit Mace had caught yesterday hadn’t made much of a dent in his pinched belly, but he was too fucking worried about Kenna to concern himself with finding a meal.
The scent he was following belonged to the males he had smelled on Kenna the day she had followed Sheba. They may have seen something, or perhaps knew where his mate was. They would know, most likely, where Vincent hung his hat. After all, Vincent had tried to recruit them, according to Kenna.
He sensed that he was not alone, and stopped, his eyes searching the trees for the unknown wolves that watched him approaching. A big red lobo moved from cover of the trees, and several others followed, until he was surrounded by a semicircle of wary, softly growling wolves.
Dumont? We heard your mate calling, and our brother has gone to investigate. We know where Draga hides. We offer our services to your pack.
You heard Kenna?
We pledged the Yellowhorse clan to her. I am Blade. These are my brothers. Lance is following your mate’s scent trail even now. We need to find him and steal our queen back from the Draga pack.
Chapter Fourteen
Mace blinked as the wolves wheeled as one and loped back into the trees. Our queen? These wolves had pledged themselves to his mate? He sent a mental call to his brothers, and waited until they acknowledged before he wheeled to follow the wolves, running silently, mulling over the wolf’s words. He caught up to Blade and ran at his side, wondering just how close the Yellowhorse males had gotten with Kenna, a sharp shot of jealousy burning in his veins. Normally, males could not hear a call from a female that was mated to another…yet these males had heard her? He fought to contain his frustration. They had come to help. There were half a dozen strong-looking wolves here. He would not look this gift horse in the mouth.
* * * * *
Kenna was shoved into the middle of an earthen room that had been fitted with a large bed, three leather chairs, and a small table. As her eyes slid over everything, they skidded to a halt on the smirking face of Vincent Draga. The male at her back shoved her forward, and she was pushed to her knees a couple of feet from where the bastard reclined in a chair that resembled a throne. A low growl from the man at her back made her almost choke as he grabbed her hair and dragged her head back until she thought her neck would break.
“Do you want me to strip her?”
Draga’s narrowed gaze slid over her, taking in her swollen belly and her dirt caked face. “Remove her gag.”
Kenna almost whimpered as the foul rag was taken from her mouth and discarded. The male at her back kept a tight hold on her hair, and he shoved his hard cock against her back. Did the bastards plan to gang rape her?
“So I now possess the legendary queen of all wolves…how delicious. I sense that your pups will come soon. Of course they will have a place with me, since I will now be your mate, bitch.”
Kenna stared at him like he was a small, ugly insect. “I have mates…and they will tear your heart out and feed it to you. You would be smart to let me go, and get the hell away from here, if you want to live.” She grated the words through clenched t
eeth, fighting the pain that the bastard at her back was inflicting.
“How very bloodthirsty, sweeting. But by now, your mates should be dead. They will not rescue you or your pups. Of course, I will take you as mine, and you will learn to enjoy my touch. I will not be gentle or kind. I am rather demanding in bed, my sweet, but you will learn to give me what I want. You may even grow to enjoy it.”
“Don’t hold your breath, maggot face…” she gritted, wincing as the asshole behind her shoved his cock harder against her spine. “And tell asshole boy here to stop fucking my back.”
“Gunter would love to fuck more than your back, my sweet…should I let him show you how I like my sex? He often joins me in my bed, and enjoys it rough, too.” His smile was wicked. “He particularly enjoys taking a female in her ass. Would you enjoy that? Me in your mouth, and Gunter in that tight ass?”
“Try putting your cock in my mouth, and you’ll lose it before you can blink, Draga.”
Vincent leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, rubbing his cock through his pants. “You make me very hot, Kenna. Perhaps I will let Gunter fuck you while I watch. But we’ll leave that for another night. When I hang the heads of the Dumont wolves over my mantelpiece. Their sightless eyes can watch you submit to your new master.”
He nodded at the male holding her, and she was dragged up from her scraped knees and shoved headfirst onto the bed. “Sleep while you can, sweeting. Tomorrow you will be too busy pleasing me to rest…”
* * * * *
Lance Yellowhorse quietly rose from the corpse of the unfortunate guard. He wiped his blade on the male’s shirt and buried the body beneath a pile of rotting pine needles and leaves that would help hide the scent of blood as well as the body. The underground compound of Vincent Draga was well hidden, but Lance and his brothers had been slinking around the perimeters for months now, and he had a good mental layout of the nearly invisible entrances. The scent of the silver alpha bitch was strong here. They had dragged her into the den through the tunnel closest to him.
He felt his gums tingling, but held the change at bay. Hopefully his brothers would have reached the Dumont compound and be returning with reinforcements. The thought of Draga touching his queen sent his hackles up. He would love nothing better than to feel that bastard’s scrawny neck snap between his jaws…but he knew that he must leave that pleasure to her mates…the lucky bastards.
Concealing his large body and camouflaging his scent gave him an opportunity to count the wolves who entered and left the underground lair. As far as he figured Draga had gathered nearly sixty fighters, and considered himself powerful enough to launch a devastating attack on the Dumont pack. His assassins had methodically been catching Dumont wolves alone in remote places and killing them. They had managed to take down about ten so far, even though Draga bragged a number double that.
But the bastard seemed to forget that the Dumont pack and their allies had something they were willing to die to protect...
If his brothers had done what he had asked, they would be leading the queen's mates to her now. Hopefully they would also bring back a large contingent of fighters. They would need numbers to locate her in the sprawling underground fortress. Although he had heard her calling out earlier in the day, it had not been strong enough to get an idea of where she was inside the catacombs. He had responded, but had gotten no more from his queen. Soon. Soon he would look upon her again. He would die a happy wolf if he died in her service this day.
Gant and Dune caught up to the Yellowhorse clan and Mace within less than an hour. Following the wolves into Draga's newly-carved-out territory, they hung back until they caught the strong scent of their mate and the nasty smell of chloroform that hung in the air near the entrance to the ravine.
There...our brother awaits. Stay under cover of the washout.
Mace nosed his elder sibling and nudged Dune. The Yellowhorse clan have pledged themselves to our mate. Lance and his brothers number eight. Our enforcers number six, and with us, that gives us seventeen against three times that many.
With seventeen males as determined as we, it can be done. A big grey lobo approached, and Mace nodded to the one called Lance.
The entrance closest to our queen is there. We should split up once we are inside...one of her mates with several of us. We should be able to hear her calling once we are inside the lair.
Gant and Dune shared a questioning glance before noting their sibling who nodded. Mace seemed willing to accept what the big grey stated. They would honor that acceptance.
* * * * *
"How many males do we have on patrol?" Vincent glanced up from the papers on his desk at the big assassin standing watch over the sleeping bitch.
"Three patrols of five each, my lord."
Vincent sighed as he drew a small bag of money from the drawer beside him and tossed it to the wolf. "You have served me well, Gunter. Get yourself a bitch and something to eat. She will sleep for some time. I will rest, too. It won't be long before any remaining mates try to come for her. We'll be ready for the bastards."
His eyes slid over the sleeping form of the Dumont bitch, and his lips curled back from his teeth. He would teach her who her master was. Soon she would beg for his cock. He pressed his palm down over his eager shaft. Unzipping, he pulled it from his pants and roughly squeezed and stroked it, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. Soon she would be sucking him. Soon she would be rolling onto her hands and knees begging him to fuck her. The images made him breathless with lust as he applied harder pressure with each stroke of his hand. Yes, soon she would pleasure him while his lieutenant watched...perhaps joined in...
Kenna heard the soft grunts of a male pleasuring himself, and she stealthily lifted her head to see Draga writhing and groaning in his seat as he masturbated hard. She had managed to loosen the ropes on her wrists a little, but not enough to get a hand free. Blood circulation was returning, thank God, but she was still helpless. He'd sent his goon away to get laid. If luck was with her, the son-of-a-bitch would sleep after jacking off. She moved very little, not wanting him to see movement. His noises grew louder until with a shout of pleasure, he jetted his cum onto the thick Persian rug in front of his chair, and with a deep groan, he laid his head back and closed his eyes.
Kenna pictured her three mates in her mind, and closing her eyes, she called out mentally to them, praying they would be close enough to hear her this time. Concentrating on reaching out to them, she bit back a sob of utter relief when Mace's deep voice filled her thoughts.
Keep talking to us. We're inside so guide us to you, love.
Vincent's in here with me. His bed chamber is very deep in the caves. There's a central walkway, but I was out when they brought me in, so I can't be sure where I am. Be careful...he has nearly sixty men. He is asleep in his chair. I don't know how long he'll... She gasped as a big hand closed around her throat, and her eyes jerked up to find Gunter snarling down at her,
"I can sense you speaking with someone, bitch. Not another word or thought, or I swear I will snap your neck."
Vincent roused at the rough sound of his lieutenant's voice, rising and zipping his pants irritably. "How can she possibly communicate with them from here? That's impossible."
"If she is as powerful as the legends say, not for this one. She could lead them right to us." Gunter's rumbling tones sent chills through Kenna. There was such hate there, it almost choked her. She prayed that her mates would reach her quickly. She wasn't sure she could hold off the inevitable much longer. If Draga chose to get rid of her quickly to prevent them from reaching her, she wouldn't stand a chance trussed up like this. Or worse, he and his monstrous lieutenant were going to share her...
She stopped struggling and went limp in the wolf's grip, calming her mind and sending out one last desperate call. I love you...no matter what happens, know that...
Gant jerked his head toward a heavy door to their right, and three panicked wolves leapt without further thought, hitting t
he massive panel all at once. As the hinges ripped off the frame, they burst into a large bedroom to see Draga and an even bigger lobo lying on top of a smaller body on the massive canopied bed. The smaller form didn't move. Nor did the bigger forms...
Fury and pain tore through the brothers, and one thought filled their minds as they leapt toward the bloody, deathly still body of the woman they loved more than their own lives...
Draga will die the most agonizing death...
She floated in a silent place that held no light. The pain that had been constant since her capture was gone. There was no sound. No movement. Was she dead at last? Had they taken her life and those of her pups? There were no tears. No feeling. Just emptiness. No regrets. No anger. Nothing but a peaceful void that sifted around her floating body. Was this what Aunt Maggie had felt when she passed? This total lack of stimuli? She lifted her hands, surprised that the thick ropes were gone. Reaching for the silver collar around her neck, she felt for its cold hardness. But it, too, was gone. Did death free everyone this way? Her eyes moved over her hands and wrists, and the blood that dripped from her partially exposed claws made her blink. She had killed them. She felt no remorse for the lives she had taken...and she sensed that she had taken them violently.
She only wished that she had lived to see her pups...watch their fathers cuddle and love them. Such a waste...
Such a horrific waste.
* * * * *
Helen Reynard stood beside the bed, giving Kenna a bed bath. The pups were currently safely cradled in their fathers' arms as the men fed them from bottles provided by several pack wet nurses. It was hard to believe that all three pups had survived the massive trauma that had left their mother in a coma.
The babies had been born human, and they had quickly found wet nurses to feed the healthy, squirming offspring. It had been three weeks since Kenna had been carried back to the compound on a litter, carefully borne by six silent and distraught males. Over those weeks, her mates had kept constant vigil, praying for the moment she would open her eyes and smile at them.