by Kyle, Celia
Which was what he’d done. He’d moved into his grandmother’s home, cared for her until she passed, and then left Colwich behind for good.
Until Elly…
Another fist to his temple, the strike knocking him to the ground, and a booted foot collided with his belly. He heaved, stomach rebelling against the treatment, and he spit blood and mucus onto the wooden floor.
Deuce didn’t bother trying to sit up. They’d knock his ass down again. Dicks.
Alistair knelt beside him, his oily black hair falling forward until it made a greasy curtain around them. “I don’t particularly care for traitors.”
He smiled wide, exposing his fangs, not doubting his white teeth were covered in blood. “I don’t particularly care for psychopathic assholes. So I think we’re even.”
The polar bear spit on him, the warm glob of saliva slid down his cheek, and he rose to his feet. “Gimme a knife. I wanna hear the kitty scream for me before I kill the traitor.”
Deuce shook his head and laughed. Nah, he wasn’t about to leave his Elly. “Traitor? Your own family doesn’t believe in your cause, Alistair. How do you think I got in with you? You think I just happened to meet you in that bar? Or did your cousin Jenner send me?”
Rage mottled the bear’s features. He needed the man to go into a destructive fury. He’d waste a good bit of time tearing apart the room and would leave Deuce alone for a while so he could cool off. He’d seen it more times than he could count during his stint with Freedom.
“It was smart to get your cousin into the Ridgeville pride. Real smart. But you probably didn’t plan on him going bat-shit crazy over that Sensitive we stole back from you. Yeah, Elise mated to one of the Prime’s guards and it sent him over the edge. He’s had a good time in the council’s jail. Gave us all kinds of secrets. Did you wonder why your dear cousin hadn’t called in a while?”
Deuce saw the next strike coming and relaxed into the blow, let the pain flow over and through him, biting back the curse that flew to his lips.
“You lie.”
“Do I?” His left eye had swelled shut, leaving him half blind. Didn’t matter. He needed enough vision to get him to one of the cars in the back of the house. He hadn’t trained with fucking Stone for nothing.
The crazed man stared down at him, eyes intent, and Deuce didn’t hide a thing, let the bear see the truth in his eyes. Well, eye.
“Fuck!” Alistair spun on his heel and stomped from the room, slamming the door behind him, the low click of the lock resonating through the room.
At least he’d been left alone.
Deuce tugged at his bindings, the rope digging into his wrists as he fought the restraints. He could feel the fibers cutting into his flesh, the new rush of blood permeating the air, and he struggled to ignore the additional pain. It’d been part of his training before he went undercover with Freedom.
They taught him how to endure.
He withheld the groans and grunts that filled him, unwilling to draw the attention of any others in the house. He’d seen two more from Alistair’s inner circle as well as the leader’s half brother, Niall. Out of everyone he’d met, he’d liked Niall the most. Well, more like hated him the least. The man wasn’t in Freedom by choice. No, he’d promised his dying mother he’d look after his younger brother. Only to have that vow damn him to life as an outlaw.
Deuce yanked against the twine, working at the rope and urging it to stretch. The skitter of nails on wood had him freezing, muscles tense and still.
Skitter-skitter. Stop. Skitter. Skitter-skitter. Stop.
The noise was too small to originate from one of Alistair’s men. The man typically kept company with other larger shifters, carnivores that could easily destroy. No, this was much, much smaller.
Then a scent bowled over him, one he’d come to recognize, and his cat rushed at his control, fighting his internal bonds in an effort to escape.
Skitter-skitter.
Fluffy fur brushed his bound wrists, soft and delicate and Elly’s.
He’d tan her ass for this. As soon as he got them clear of the house and to safety, he’d bend her over his knee and blister her bottom.
The rope around his wrists vibrated, was tugged and yanked on by his tiny mate, and he imagined her in her tiny squirrel form, gnawing at the cords.
Nibble, nibble, sneeze. Then more nibbling.
At one point, he was pretty sure she gagged. He couldn’t blame her.
More tugging, biting, and fighting until he was able to flex and break the last shreds of his bindings.
Blood rushed into his arms, stinging pinpricks filling his hands while he stretched his muscles and worked feeling back into the blood-deprived extremities.
He pushed himself up, resting once he was vertical, and then he rolled to his feet, silent as he moved. No sense in drawing attention now.
Of course, there was still the squirrel.
His little mate sat on the ground, perched on her back legs, worried little frown on her squirrely features, and nose twitching as she scented the air. She darted toward the window and back to him—scramble, return, and scramble again.
Part of him ached to go through the room’s door, tear apart the guards, and fight his way to Alistair.
But the other half of him realized his first plan had been to escape and get to Elly. He had his chance.
Tightening his lips, he made his decision, unwilling to risk recapture or, worse, them taking hold of Elly again. He nodded at his tiny mate, following her with silent steps.
As he approached the opened window, he spotted a handgun resting on the sill. At least his mate had come somewhat prepared. She scampered up the wall, gaining height with ease, until she was prepped to hop out the portal. She paused, waiting for him, and he kept his pace steady, silent.
Until he hit that board. That single board just about every room with wood floors held. The one that creeks.
Deuce stilled, foot planted, and his heart thundered as he prayed no one had heard the revealing sound.
Even Elly remained motionless on the windowsill, her small eyes wide.
Then it seemed the world exploded. The room’s door burst inward, Alistair leading two of his men into the space, and Deuce centered himself for a fight. Escape was no longer his plan. No, now it was ensuring his squirrel got away.
Alistair was the first to attack, the first to land a blow to his midsection. One of the goons hit his knee, sending him to the floor.
Deuce returned the attacks, striking out as he was able, landing a few punches of his own while he regained his feet. The scent of the others’ blood joined that of his own and he smiled when bones crunched beneath his fists.
Somehow he managed to knock the bigger of the two goons out, the man falling like a tree after a vicious hit.
That left him with one other guy and Alistair himself.
He could take them. Yeah, he bled from a dozen or more wounds, but he wasn’t about to let them get their hands on Elly again.
Because as sure as the sun rose in the east, his mate was probably still sitting by the window and waiting for him.
A glance over his shoulder revealed he was right.
Her ass would be red for days. Days.
The distinctive click of the hammer being cocked went straight to his bones, chilling him from inside out. He turned and stared down the barrel of a revolver pointed right at him and inches from his head.
Things just got real.
Pure mad fury filled the polar bear’s eyes and Deuce waited for the blow.
Deuce didn’t fear death, didn’t regret his life in the slightest. He’d sacrificed a lot for his sister, but it’d been out of love and she deserved a long life.
But if he died in this crappy room in this run-down house, he’d always regret not telling Elly how he felt about her. It didn’t take years to love someone. Or months. Or weeks. Or days. No, it took three words.
“I’ll kill you.”
Alistair’s finger tightened
on the trigger. Deuce watched the end of his life draw nearer, and he prayed to every god he could think of that Elly would get away.
A thundering boom filled the small space and Deuce watched, transfixed, as Alistair McCain, leader of Freedom and the most evil man he’d ever encountered, fell to the ground in a heap. A dead heap.
Blood pooled beneath the lifeless body, the puddle growing with every millisecond. The remaining goon gaped, staring down at the man who’d led Freedom, and Deuce took advantage of the man’s inattention. He balled up his fist and struck, knocking the guy out with a single blow.
Panting, adrenaline pumping through his veins, he turned toward his mate, his sweet, gentle squirrel, and simply stared at her.
She stood, naked as the day she was born, hair flowing around her shoulders and arms outstretched, gun in her hands. Her weapon was trained on Alistair’s still body and Deuce eased toward her, wary of her reaction to taking another’s life.
Instead of anguish or pain in her features, he saw only a mixture of anger with a hint of happiness.
Elly turned her head to look at him and gestured at the dead man with her gun. “Bring him back. I wanna do it again. Maybe shoot his dick off and let him bleed a bit before I decorate the wall with his brains.” She stomped, distracting him with her bouncing breasts. “Damn it. Now.”
The thunderous pounding of feet reached him and he snatched the gun from her hands, swung it around and aimed at the gaping doorway.
Niall McCain rounded the corner first and stopped short when he laid eyes on Deuce. Immediately he raised his hands, palms out.
“Deuce.” The man’s voice was cautious.
“Alistair is dead and I’m taking my mate out of here. You wanna come after me for it, that’s fine. But right now, I’m going through that window and none of you are gonna stop me.”
Niall nodded, gaze shifting to Alistair’s immobile form and then back to him. “Okay. But you and yours are safe. I never agreed with what my brother was doing, Deuce. You know that. You tell the council.”
He did. He knew. “Fine.”
Deuce backed into Elly, shoving her through the window while he kept his gun trained on the men. The moment she was outside, he passed the weapon to her so she could keep them covered while he crawled out. He refused to turn his back on the house until they hit the woods and were out of sight, unwilling to allow any vulnerability.
A hundred feet into the forest, Deuce spun and hauled Elly against him, smashing his lips onto hers with a bruising force. His lion was raging, roaring at him to reclaim their mate and assure her well-being. She’d been in danger, vulnerable, and they hadn’t been able to protect her. She’d been… And almost…
He shoved his tongue into her mouth, forcing his way inside her and taking what he desired. He licked and lapped, tasted her, relearned her flavors, and thanked god she was still there for him to touch. His cock hardened within his jeans, body heedless of the wounds he carried.
He had one thought: her. Elly was his world, his everything, and he’d almost lost his mate.
His squirrel leaned into him, pressed her body against his and opened for him. She surrendered and took what he forced upon her. He fisted her hair, tugged her head into position as he desired, searching for a way to deepen their kiss.
Her tongue dueled with his, languorous against his frantic need, and his mate clung to him, digging her small nails into his biceps. She whimpered and moaned, whined and writhed as if even being skin to skin wasn’t enough.
The snap of a twig threw him from their kiss. Deuce raised his gun, zeroing in on the sound’s source with unerring precision to find he held a gun on his own sister.
“Autumn?”
“Uh…” The lioness stared at the ground, cheeks pink. “Yeah, can we get going? I’m sure there are lots of bad guys and stuff, plus Joey said he’s seriously ‘tired of staring at my sister’s junk.’ Direct quote, so don’t kill me.”
“Joey Martin?” Deuce growled, but the gentle stroke of Elly’s hand over his chest had him swallowing the sound.
“It’s fine. We’ll talk about it once we get to safety.” His mate’s voice was calm, soothing to his beast.
When she twined her fingers with his, he allowed her to lead him toward the nearby vehicle. He let her nudge him into the front seat and he watched her don one of his shirts and a pair of unfamiliar jeans.
She couldn’t keep him from punching her brother, though.
The crunch of her brother’s nose breaking did make him feel better.
It wasn’t until the man brought his hands to his face, attempting to staunch the flow of blood, that Deuce noticed Joey’s new jewelry.
“Elly, why is your brother handcuffed?”
Anger pinched his mate’s features. “He was at your father’s and knew what my dad and yours had planned. He offered to come along to help, but I don’t trust him.”
“I see.” His rage had lowered to a simmering anger while he’d been held. “And Autumn?”
His sister was pale and he saw the faint tremors racking her body. “I told them, Deuce.”
Deuce’s heart stuttered and then thundered. “Told who what?”
“Everyone. Everything. Dad knows. Elly’s family was there, so they do too.” A grin eased some of the pain coating her expression. “Your mate shot out Daddy’s knees.”
Shock jolted him and he swung his gaze back to Elly, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. “She what?”
Elly shrugged. “It was only with a nine millimeter. It’s not like he won’t heal. I had a shotgun. He should be thankful I didn’t hit him with that.” She glanced at him and then returned her attention to the road. “I was this close to taking out your brothers, and mine, for going along with your father’s plan, but I was worried about getting to you.”
“You—”
“Took care of it. If I had enough bullets, I’d take on the whole fucking town. How could they believe—”Elly’s knuckles went white as she gripped the steering wheel, claws now tipping her fingers. “I know we haven’t known each other long, but even I know you never would have…”
Elly brought the car to a stop at the next intersection, sitting at the empty four-way stop. Taking advantage of the pause, he reached out and took her hand, swept away the tension.
“Elly?”
She turned to him, tears shimmering in her eyes.
“Do you have any idea how much I love you?”
She shook her head, denying him, and one of those salty droplets escaped.
He brushed it away, ignoring the pain that accompanied the gesture. “More than anything, I do.”
A loud, obnoxious honk destroyed their embrace and his mate broke away with a gasp, pulling through the intersection and then on toward the center of town.
“Well, that was a great Kodak moment.” Joey’s nasally drawl made him want to hit the man again. “So, where are we going and when do I get to lose the handcuffs?”
Deuce voted for sending the squirrel to hell and never on the handcuffs.
He was overruled.
Damn it.
35
“You should always have a freezer full of ice cream. You never know who’s gonna stop by.” — Maya O’Connell, Prima of the Ridgeville Pride and mad ice cream lover. Hard-core, fat kid-and-chocolate-cake kind of lover.
Where ended up being Autumn’s home. They stopped off at Elly’s to grab a few necessities, a couple of guns to add to his sister’s collection. He wanted to be prepared in the event his father managed to turn the tide and gathered a posse while they figured out their next step. He could take care of himself in a fight, but a gun or two kept things from escalating that far.
Loaded up, they head to his sister’s, where he was able to get clean and slide into some of the clothes left behind by his brothers.
He also attached Joey to the radiator in the living room.
The squirrel had not been happy.
Deuce didn’t give a fuck.
And at l
east the man could keep an eye on the front of the house. Getting out of Colwich was a no-brainer. Deuce wasn’t sure how the Ridgeville Prime, Alex, would feel about adding another lioness to his pride.
In the kitchen, he settled into one of the chairs and held a bag of frozen peas to his face. His body would heal more rapidly than a human’s, but he wanted to hurry the process along with a cold compress. No sense in dealing with an eye swollen shut if he didn’t have to.
Elly padded into the room and eased onto his lap, laying her head on his shoulder while she curled into him. He brushed a kiss across her temple and wrapped his arm around her waist, happier than he’d ever been. Even through the pain and heartache that plagued him, his joy shined through.
Autumn plopped into a nearby chair and turned her attention to the spread of weapons on the table. Methodically, she checked each one, popped out the magazines, filled those that could take a few more bullets, and prepped each for use.
Of course, the silence had to be broken by Elly’s asshole brother. “Hey, can I get a beer or somethin’? If I’ve gotta sit around and wait for you to kick my ass, the least you could do is gimme a drink.”
Autumn huffed and he knew his sister was about to lose her patience. “We’ve got water or tea.”
“That’s it?”
Beneath his gaze, the lioness’ teeth elongated. “There is no alcohol in this house. Ever.”
Joey’s grumble floated toward them, but he answered. “Water, then.”
The gun she’d been working on slammed against the wood table with a heavy thunk and his sister rose from her chair. Her movements were jerky and quick and then she was gone, stomping down the hallway with a glass of water in hand.
“No alcohol?” His mate’s voice was soft, almost timid.
“No. Since then… None of the Pierce siblings drink.”
“But… When you were with Freedom… I saw…” She snaked her arm across his body to rest against his other shoulder and nuzzled his neck.
“You saw me with what you thought was a can of ultra light beer.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t. It smells like beer, tastes like beer, but it’s essentially water. No alcohol content. I drink it instead of getting questioned when I refuse to have a beer with the boys. They think light beer is pansy shit so they don’t touch my stash and can’t catch me in the lie.” He shrugged. “It’s a pain in the ass, but beats having to go over my history every time I decline. When I go to a bar, I’m the designated driver, but at home, I drink the other stuff. I just can’t. Not after what happened to Autumn. She’d been at a party drinking and we’d followed her, saw firsthand what happened. I shouldn’t have let her go to that damned party. Should have stopped her. Should have done something so that she wasn’t covered in scars and walking with a limp.”