by Jane Jamison
“If she wants us, too. Like with you, it’s up to her. We’d never change anyone against their will.” Charlie knew other werelions who didn’t give their future mate a choice. They’d simply change her whether she wanted to be changed or not. But their mate would have equal say in their lives and total control over what happened to her body.
“Good.” John drew in a long breath. “Yeah, I’m for it. She couldn’t find better men than you three.” He pointed a finger at one then the other two. “But you’d better treat her right. If you don’t, I’m going to go all hellcat on your asses.”
Charlie put his hand over his heart, making a vow to his friend as well as to himself. “Trust me, man. No one is ever going to treat her as good as we will.”
* * * *
Kit stared at the monitor. She’d seen the men and Joy getting along. She’d seen how they pushed to get closer to her regardless that bars separated them. She’d seen all that and had let it happen. The closer they became physically, the better she liked it.
How long would it take for them to capture Joy’s heart and then break it? At first, she’d listened to their conversations, and although she hated hearing their plans for the future, she’d tolerated them, knowing that the men’s lies would help ensnare Joy into a trap of their own making.
They’ll break her heart. That’s a good thing.
She frowned as Charlie and Mars fondled Joy’s breasts.
What a slut! She’s letting them grope her while her brother is nearby.
Maneuvering the camera for a close-up view, she studied Charlie’s expression. “No. I don’t want you to love her. You’re supposed to take her heart and then break her. Use her then throw her away.”
She gripped the arms of her chair. “I need to stop them. But, no. This has to happen. I want them to take her. I do.” Yet indecision swept through her. What if the men actually fell in love with Joy? Jealousy mixed with anger then mixed with regret. Joy hadn’t done anything to her. If she’d stayed away, she never would’ve hurt her in any way. But Joy was a part of it now, and whatever happened to her was not Kit’s fault.
She turned up the sound on the microphones and listened intently. Although the men spoke softly, she still picked up bits of what they said.
Love you.
You’re ours.
We want you forever.
And Joy was eating up every word, believing them.
Leaning toward the monitor, Kit felt anger taking over. Why did other women find love, but never her? She’d given her heart fully to Mason, and he’d rejected her just like all the men before him had. Why was Joy the lucky one?
No more. I’m not going to sit by and watch another girl get what should’ve been mine.
“This is fucked up.” Shoving out of her chair, she took the shotgun leaning against the wall and stormed out of the study.
* * * *
Joy wasn’t sure what happened next. Afterward, she would try to remember, but the memory was hazy as though her mind couldn’t hold on to any one thought. Instead, flashes of horrible images whipped through her. Images she didn’t want to recall.
She could still hear Kit’s ungodly screech.
She could still recall jerking her gaze toward the entrance and the wild woman barreling toward them.
She could still see the burst of smoke as the shotgun went off.
She could still smell the scent of gun smoke then the coppery aroma that wafted over her, her nostrils filling with a stench an instinctive part of her recognized but the rest of her refused to comprehend.
But, worst of all, she still remembered the horror that rushed through her as she jerked around and saw John.
Sweet, lovable John who had loved her as much as any brother could.
Fun, light-hearted John who had brought home stray after stray.
Strong, heroic John who had shown her how truly wonderful a real man could be.
Brave John who had helped her survive her parents’ deaths.
That John, her John was gone.
Chapter Six
Joy stared, too stunned to cry out, too horror-struck to move. John’s lifeless body lay next to the bars, half of his face gone, leaving behind a bloody pulp.
The men rushed toward the bars, hitting them with the full force of their huge bodies. But the cage did not yield. She heard clothes tearing, understood what the sound was, but didn’t understand what it meant.
Slowly, a terrible rage filled her, sweeping away even the tears about to fall. She rose and flung her body at Kit, uncaring if the vile woman shot her. The chain held her back, enraging her even more. Suddenly, she found her voice as it came out in howls of pain.
“Fuck, Kit, you killed him. Fuck!” shouted Win. “Goddamn you, you killed him!”
Kit stood a few feet from Joy, but it was enough of a distance to keep Joy from reaching her. She snarled. She kicked. She did everything she could, but it was of no use.
“Why’d you do it?” Mars’s voice was tortured as he fell next to John and pulled his body into his arms. “Why the hell did you do it?”
Charlie shook the bars and bared his teeth. “You’re not going to get away with murder. We’ll make damn sure of that.”
Exhausted, Joy slumped against the bars, blood trickling down her arms from the injuries she’d caused to her wrists. “John,” she whimpered.
She felt Charlie’s hand on her shoulder, but unlike before, his touch held no comfort. Centering her fury on Kit, she prayed Kit would step one foot closer. If she did, she’d lock her legs around her waist and pull her close. Charlie would be able to reach her even if she couldn’t.
“Stay calm, guys,” said Mars, his pain raw in his tone. “Don’t let them take over. We can’t help her if we lose it.”
Kit stood, shotgun still at the ready. Her eyes were big, a shocked expression on her face. “You made me do it. All of you. You made me kill him.”
A calm swept over Joy. But the calm did not come from serenity. Instead, it came from determination, her hot fury having changed to cold, calculating resolve.
Step closer. Just one more foot.
“Fuck you, Kit,” said Mars. “Fuck you to hell.”
Kit shook her head vigorously. “You made me do it. You four stroking and pawing at each other.” She jerked her chin toward John. “You made me do it.”
And then it happened. Kit took a step closer.
Joy didn’t hesitate. Taking hold of the bars, she jumped up and wrapped her legs around Kit’s waist. Kit let out a squeal and dropped the shotgun. Vaguely, Joy was aware that Charlie lunged for the gun but couldn’t reach it. But it didn’t matter. She gritted her teeth and tightened her legs around Kit, pulling the struggling woman against her.
“No!” screamed Kit then plunged her hand between Joy’s legs.
Pain seared into Joy, spreading throughout her crotch. Try as she could, she couldn’t keep her legs wrapped around Kit. With a cry of utter defeat, she let her victim go.
Kit stumbled backward, grabbed the gun, then came up swinging. Joy saw the blur of gray a moment before the hard metal hit her jaw. Her body went limp and hung from her wrists. Her head swam, thoughts and images whirling together.
Kit put the barrel of the gun against Joy’s head. “Change and she dies. Here. Turn her loose.”
Change? Change what?
She tried to understand, but it was too hard to focus. She groaned as someone unlocked first the chain then the cuffs.
I’m free. Fight!
But her body wouldn’t listen. Instead, she slumped to the ground, sliding her back against the bars.
“Mars, get over here. Charlie, drag her into the cage. Anyone try anything and Mars gets a hole in the head, too.”
What? Into the cage?
Her head lolled backward as strong arms lifted her. For one blissful moment, she felt her head against Charlie’s massive chest. She flattened her palm against the dark hair curling between his pecs. “John,” she murmured.
&nb
sp; “I know, sugar. I know.”
“Shut up,” demanded Kit.
The clanging of the iron door came next, but Joy didn’t care. Nothing could be wrong while Charlie carried her. Even John was all right while Charlie carried her. He wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be.
“Put her down,” ordered Kit.
No. Keep holding me, Charlie.
She clutched at him, desperately trying to keep close. A pitiful whimper escaped her. If he put her down, then reality would come crashing back. A reality she couldn’t stand.
But traitorously, Charlie set her down.
She fell to her side, unable to sit up. As tears stung her eyes, she looked at her brother and felt her heart break, tearing apart within her chest. “No.” Her whisper morphed into a whimper.
“Fuck her.”
She heard Kit, but it was as though she was speaking a foreign language. The only thing Joy could comprehend was her loss. Slowly, painfully, she dug her hands into the dirt floor and began crawling toward her brother.
He can’t be dead. I won’t let him be dead.
Yet the closer she came to him, the more horrific the sight became.
Where’s his face? What happened to his handsome face?
“Fuck off, Kit.”
She heard the men, but what they were saying didn’t matter. Even the anger in their voices didn’t matter. Instead, she pulled her body closer to John until, at last, she could collapse on top of him, her head against his blood-soaked chest, her gaze fixed to his non-existent one.
“I said, fuck her. I want to see you fuck her.”
Something hit the cage, causing the bars to shudder, the clang of the impact reverberating in the air.
“You’re fucking crazy,” said Win, his voice guttural.
“Show her what you really are then fuck her, damn it.”
“No. We don’t care what you do, we’re not going to do that.”
She sensed Charlie moving closer then Win then Mars. They took a stand beside her, putting themselves between her and Kit.
“I’ll shoot her, too.”
“You won’t.” A growl followed Mars’s declaration.
“You’ll have to kill us first,” said Win.
Joy clutched at John’s clothes, the stench of his death clogging her nostrils. What had happened? One day John was telling her about his new friends, and then another day he was lying on the ground, dead.
None of this is real. It can’t be.
Yet her shattered heart said she lied.
“It’s your fault, you know. I wouldn’t have had to kill him if you’d listened to me.”
“You murdered him.” Charlie took a step forward. “You didn’t have to, but you did. You’re a murderer, Kit.”
“No.” Kit’s voice was strained, taking on an almost begging tone. “You shouldn’t have messed with her. Not with me watching. It’s your fault. Not mine. No, not mine.”
Joy closed her eyes and wished she could die along with John. How could she go on without him?
Please, let me die.
“Get him out of there. Now.”
“Let her have time with him. You owe her that much.” Mars planted his feet apart. “She needs time to grieve.”
“Put his body against the door then back the hell up. If you don’t, I’ll fucking shoot her.”
Kit’s command came to Joy through a filter of agony. At first, she pushed the meaning of them away. But when Charlie took hold of her again, murmuring soft words to come into his arms again, she understood.
“No!” she screamed. “You can’t take him away from me. No!” She struggled, kicking and flailing against Charlie, who easily picked her up and hugged her against him. “Let me go! She can’t have him.” She cried out, over and over, as Win and Mars gently picked up John’s lifeless body then laid it against the cage door.
She was still screaming, still fighting to reach John as Charlie carried her to the other side of the cage. “No, please. Don’t let her take him.”
“We have to, sugar. I’m sorry, but we have to. For your sake, sugar.”
“Put me down! Now!”
Yet Charlie held her tightly, his huge hand blocking her sight. “It’s going to be okay, sugar. I swear it. We’ll make her pay.”
Shoving his hand away, she searched for John’s body, but only a trail of blood leading out of the cage remained. The fight in her suddenly left, gone with her brother. Hurting as she’d never hurt before, she went limp in Charlie’s arms and wept.
* * * *
Time no longer had any meaning for Joy. She had a vague idea that days had passed, but it could’ve been hours or weeks. She didn’t care.
The blood on the ground had been swept away, covered up by the men, but she could still see it. Yes, she could still see it. She’d always be able to see it.
The men had tried to help her, to console her, but she knew she would never be the same. Her brother was gone, and nothing, no one could bring him back.
“We need to make her eat.”
“We’ve tried.”
“And we’ll try again. At least she’s drinking. A little.”
“She’ll get better. Give her time. She will.”
“I don’t know, man. I’m not sure she will.”
“She will. She’s a fighter. Just give her time.”
“We have to do something. We don’t have any choice. We have to give her The Allure.”
She wasn’t sure which man had spoken each time. The sound of their voices ran together.
John, I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. Please forgive me.
But would she ever forgive herself?
* * * *
“Joy, baby, please look at me.” Win sat beside her.
She drew in a long, slow breath. It hurt to move even a little, but she did as he asked and met his gaze.
“I want you to do something for me. Can you do that?”
She was so exhausted. Bone tired. Her first impulse was to shake her head, but to do so required more effort than she could muster. Instead, she stared at him, willing him to understand so she wouldn’t have to try to explain.
“All you have to do is breathe.” He exaggerated drawing in a big breath. “Just like that. Can you take a breath for me, baby?”
What he was asking didn’t make sense. But then, nothing about her world made sense any longer. Instead, she paused, closed her eyes, then drew in a long, slow breath.
The aroma wafting into her nostrils was wonderful. Fruity, yet musky. Sweet yet masculine in an undefined way.
“That’s it, baby,” he whispered. “Do it again. Breathe in.”
She did, wanting, needing, craving the fragrance coming with the brush of his breath over her face. Suddenly, she felt better, stronger. Alive again.
“Good. Now drink a little water.”
He held a cup to her mouth. She opened her eyes and took a sip. A smile formed on her lips. “I’m okay.” She took another sip, letting the water flow down her raw throat. How long had she screamed then sobbed? “I’m okay,” she repeated, believing it even more.
“Yeah. You are. And you’ll feel even better soon enough.” He touched her face as Charlie and Mars knelt beside her.
* * * *
“I’m so hungry.” Joy leaned against the bars, her back to the barn’s entrance. “I can’t remember how long we’ve been here.”
Charlie sat cross-legged several feet from her. He dug in the dirt floor with a short stick. “We lost track. It doesn’t matter, though, does it? One day’s just like the one before it.”
“Why has she stopped feeding us?” She hated the way she sounded, desperate, aching. “Is she trying to starve us to death?”
“I don’t think so. I think she has some other idea. Probably an even worse idea.”
Worse than starving? What could that be? “At least she left us water.”
“Yeah. At least,” mumbled Win.
“We’re going to get through this,” assured Charlie.
“Just hang in there, sugar.” The muscle in Charlie’s jaw twitched.
“But someone should be looking for us by now.” Surely, someone had missed the men. Her friends back home should be wondering about her. Plus, it had been so long since she’d texted and checked in with Sarah. Was her friend worried? Was she searching for Joy just like Joy had searched for John?
Fear twisted her empty stomach. Had Sarah come to Lonesome only to be killed by Kit?
No, please. Life can’t be that cruel.
“I have to hand it to Kit,” said Mars as he pulled against the bars. He did so often, knowing it would do no use but having to try anyway. “She set this whole thing up perfectly. Giving the Higrams a free trip. Getting our friends to cover for us while we’re in Vegas. It’s really kind of brilliant.”
“Brilliantly evil.” Win sat next to her.
She wasn’t sure why, but she felt calmer, safer whenever Win was close to her. “My friend is used to getting daily texts from me. And she knows I came to Lonesome. Sooner or later, she’s going to start asking questions.”
Please let Sarah call the state police. Don’t let her come looking for me.
“Let’s hope it’s sooner than later,” muttered Charlie. “Unless Kit’s figured out a way around that.”
She hated to even ask, but she had to. “Like how?”
“She has your phone, right?”
“I guess so. I don’t have it with me.”
Charlie dragged the stick deeper into the ground. “Which means she probably took your phone. I’d bet a prize horse to a sick pig that she’s answering texts and pretending to be you.”
Despair flooded her. Pretending to be her would be easy enough. She and her friends preferred to text rather than call. “You’re probably right.”
“But at least we have each other.”
She pressed her palm to Win’s cheek. “Yes. We do. And I can touch you now. That’s something.” Her wrists were still raw from the handcuffs, but her arms had stopped aching.