Their Shifter Princess 3: Coven's Revenge

by May Dawson

“I can see that,” he muttered. “Well, I’m just saying. If someone was loyal to Arthur, they might want to keep her away from him. Rippedthroat caught her eavesdropping.”

  “What did he do to her?” My voice came out fierce, and it gave too much away. But I’ve never been one to hold back my anger.

  He looked almost satisfied, as if he was pleased he’d read me correctly. But that expression was replaced a second later with worry. “I think he compelled her, to try to get Arthur and Piper to tell him where Piper’s little sister is. And…whatever else he can learn.”

  His hazel eyes studied mine carefully. “If someone was loyal to Arthur, they might want to be thinking about how to use that.”

  “If they were,” I said.

  He nodded. “If they were.”

  I pulled away from his grip, but I swore, I could still feel the warmth of his hand on my shoulder when I reached the door.

  I stopped in the doorway and looked back at him.

  He was staring out the window, one hand in his hair, as if he’d begun to rake his hand through his hair and then stopped. As if he was trying desperately to figure out what he was going to do next.

  I closed the door softly behind me. I wanted to protect his privacy.

  Something about Tuck gave me a feeling that I could trust him.

  But it didn’t make me like him quite enough to go back in and change out his glass.

  “Hey,” Caro said softly. She stood at the top of the stairs. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. Her eyes were still swollen and puffy from crying, and she was almost swaying on her feet in her exhaustion, but she looked…ordinary. She didn’t look like a witch’s spell was controlling her.

  “Hey,” I said. If she wanted to go see Arthur, then I’d know. We’d talked earlier that day about how we had to figure out a way to help him and Piper. We’d committed to being the world’s least glamorous spies, making beds and peeling potatoes. But we’d agreed that we would likely only have one chance to escape the watchful eyes of the mercs, wolves and witches.

  “I have an idea,” she said softly.

  God damn it. If Caro was compelled by the witch, I was completely alone in the house. There was no one I could trust.

  I hadn’t realized just how loyal I was to Arthur until that loyalty became a massive pain-in-my-ass that might just get me killed.

  “Can’t wait to hear it,” I said, and as I headed toward her directly past Tuck’s door, my voice came out loud. “Lord knows I don’t have a plan.”

  Caro frowned and raised a finger to her lips.

  “Sorry,” I whispered. I followed her downstairs.

  Caro and I had given up our rooms to the Shenandoah pack, and we were temporarily relocated to the pantry in the kitchen. Sitting on our sleeping bags, surrounded by metal shelves full of cans, she told me she wanted to go see Piper and Arthur.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “She’s got the coven scared,” Caro said brightly. “It turns out she might be something beyond a pack princess. Apparently, there’s such a thing as a shifter queen.”

  Well, that sounded even stupider than pack princess. “And what does a shifter queen do?”

  “She’s got powerful magic,” Caro said. “Especially when she’s with another shifter queen, like her sister. Together, the two of them have enough juice to take down the coven.”

  “Really?” My heart sank. I’d still hoped that Tuck was wrong. I couldn’t trust him.

  But I also couldn’t trust my best friend.

  “This could be our chance,” she said. “Come with me. We’ll sneak out.”

  “How are we going to get out of here, Caro? The house is surrounded. There are guards everywhere.”

  “We’ll talk our way out,” she said. She sounded a little bit too confident for Caro. That was the kind of stupid thing I said. “Come with me.”

  Oh, Rippedthroat must have left her with a path out, some guard who was in on it.

  “Of course,” I said. “If you’re sure.”

  “I am,” she said, with perfect confidence.

  Yeah, she was definitely magicked.

  I couldn’t see a way out of this that wouldn’t tip her off—and therefore tip off Rippedthroat—so I reluctantly stood from my sleeping bag and followed her out of the pantry. I’d griped earlier about sleeping next to ten pound cans of beans, but right now I felt absolutely nostalgic about the sleeping bag and pillow in front of the shelves.

  At least I could tip off Arthur. Maybe we could even figure out a way to use this to our advantage. Caro would report back to Rippedthroat.

  If only I had Caro’s current confidence, and believed I was smart enough to pull that off.

  But when we reached the merc who stood in the shadows behind the kitchen entrance, he was in impatient conversation with Tuck, who was smoking a cigarette, and another Shenandoah shifter. Tuck smothered a cough as the guard told Caro to go away. I was pretty sure he didn’t actually smoke.

  Behind the guard’s back, when Caro, confused and frowning, headed back toward the house, Tuck gave me a quick wink.

  I turned away, because I didn’t want to give away anything to the witch. The witch shoved his hands into the pockets of his robe like he knew he’d just fucked up but couldn’t figure out a way around it. Cool that their fancy little robes had pockets.

  When Caro sat down on her sleeping bag, she said, “Well, I tried.”

  It was such an unexpected thing for her to say. Caroline wouldn’t have given up that easily if she had thought she had a way to help Arthur. She would have been terrified, second-guessing herself constantly, talking too much…but persistent.

  “We’ll try again tomorrow,” I suggested.

  “Yes,” she said. Her voice was full of relief.

  I hesitated. I had to choose my words carefully. “I know you were nervous being so close to a witch. How was serving dinner?”

  “I didn’t put my thumb in the soup,” she said.

  “It’s the small victories,” I said, but I was thinking of a different small victory, that she and I—and Tuck—had won somehow, just now.

  That must be why I found myself imagining Tuck’s face as I drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 19

  Piper

  It was Callum's movement, as he rolled up to his feet, that woke me. I felt exhausted from the night still, and sleep was still heavy on my mind as he stood. When I looked up at him, his nostrils were flared and his face was intent.

  "The witch is coming," he said.

  I’d passed out when I shifted back, and now I hurriedly yanked on my jeans and shirt. The shirt was still damp and crusty with my blood, and it made nausea rise in my throat. I sagged down to the ground, twitching the hole in my shirt to conceal that my flesh was healed, new and pink.

  The Jeep rolled down the track coming down the long hill. It parked on the far side of the whipping post, as if to make sure the view from the cells wouldn't be blocked.

  My father and a sandy-haired shifter I didn't recognize--from the Shenandoah pack, then--got out of the car.

  "Good morning, Piper," my father called cheerfully as he came toward the cells. "Did you sleep well?"

  I had raised just my head, and I tried to stare him down, but I couldn't help the shiver that ran down my spine, making my legs shake. A cruel smile carved his lips.

  Let him think I was weak. Let him think he could leave a door open for me. He wouldn’t know that I was healed now.

  “You must have had a hard night,” he said, his voice mock-sympathetic. “Are you ready for me to heal you?”

  “Stay away from me.” My voice shook. Maybe it was on purpose, or maybe not. But I couldn’t let him near enough to realize I wasn’t hurt. It was the only advantage we had over him.

  He raised his hands to his shoulders, as if to appease me. "It's time for the chat we talked about."

  I watched him warily.

  “Where’s your sister?” he asked softly.

 
I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

  The other shifter glanced at him curiously. So they wanted Maddie. Was that the deal? My father got me again and the Shenandoah pack received all the land of the Northern and Atlantic packs, as well as Maddie.

  He'd put a high value on me. You'd think the man would've taken better care of me when I believed I was his daughter.

  "We'll see," he said ominously. He looked over his shoulder at the whipping post. "I guess we'll have to bring you closer for a good view and an intimate conversation."

  My heart leapt as he drew the keys out of his pocket.

  Movement behind him caught my eye. The two warlock guards who had been posted at the edges of the hill were making their way toward us. Three witches, one shifter. Versus me.

  I gritted my teeth as fierce, restless tension tightened my muscles for a fight.

  "Be a good girl," he murmured. He unlocked the door to my cell and swung it open.

  He was so close, smiling at me the way he always had when he was pretending to love me. That look used to make me feel a spark of foolish hope and yearning.

  Now it made me want to punch him in the face, but it was me against four armed men, and I had to be smart. I crawled up to my knees, my teeth gritted, and dragged myself up the bars to stand. Let him think I was weak.

  Suddenly I thought of Maddie, just five years old when he brought her into the house and fiercely fighting him every step of the way.

  "Come on," he said, beckoning me. "Don't be shy now, Piper. From what I've heard you haven't exactly been shy with these wolves."

  His neck was all wound in scarves again, all the way up to his chin, making it look like it would be stiff and uncomfortable to turn his head. How close was his head to being severed from his body?

  If I ripped it the rest of the way off, would he be dead again, and forever?

  "Nice scarf," I told him.

  His eyes narrowed hatefully, even though he kept smiling, as if he was unperturbed.

  We could read each other better than that now, though.

  "Which one first, Piper?" he asked me, turning to gesture at the men in the cells. "I'm going to hurt one of them until you tell me what I want to know. And you get to pick. Which one?"

  I stared at him sullenly, refusing to answer.

  He was still smiling at me as he reached under his jacket and abruptly drew out a gun. Glancing around, his eyes alighted on Kai, who stood waiting, and he swung the gun to point at him.

  "He doesn't seem too important," he said. "Choose, or I'll kill him."

  "Pick me, Piper," Callum said, his voice low and calm. "It's all right."

  "I'll do it," Arthur said. He cut his eyes toward Callum. "I'm stronger."

  "Take me," Josh said. "Leave the alphas. The packs need them more."

  Were they really fighting over the privilege of being tortured? Or was Arthur trying to protect Callum because Callum had the magic to help us most?

  Or was he just trying to protect Callum? Out of arrogance…guilt…loyalty…love? I didn’t know.

  Callum gave me an encouraging nod. "It's all right."

  Which one of them had the better ability to bear what was coming next? Arthur had been badly beaten the day before. Callum might be stronger for now.

  "Callum," I said softly.

  Arthur cursed softly, his voice irritated. I fought the urge to apologize for not picking him to be tortured, which bubbled up in my throat. Girls like me apologize too much, but that was a whole new level.

  "Your lucky day," Rippedthroat told Arthur.

  "My lucky day will come when I rip your head from your shoulders," Arthur told him.

  Rippedthroat was still staring at him, smiling that same eerie, psychopathic smile, as his finger tightened on the trigger.

  "No!" I shouted, and Kai, a second too late, realized and twisted to get out of the way.

  The gunshot went off, loud under the oppressively low ceilings.

  The bullet punched through Kai's shoulder. The force slammed him to the ground.

  "Kai!" I shouted, my voice suddenly ragged.

  When I charged toward him, my father's fingers tightened in a brutal grip on my shoulders. His fingers pressed into my nerves, spiking terrible pain, and I almost fell to my knees except that he reeled me back, yanking me against his body. I shivered as his arm settled against my waist, his hand pressing into my ribs where the wound should’ve been. A split-second late, I gasped in pain, pretending my knees buckled and sagging against him. It was hard to remember to act when I just wanted to know if Kai, my Kai, was all right.

  "I'm not playing with you, my dear," he promised me, his voice a hot whisper against my neck. "I'd prefer to leave them alive for now, but I'll kill every one of them while you watch if you make me."

  My eyes blurred with hot, desperate tears as he dragged me away toward the whipping post.

  "Take the wolf," he ground out to the guards.

  The two guards headed past him toward the cells, and a second later, I heard a metallic buzzing sound and Callum's grunt of pain. I twisted away from my father to look at him. Callum's head was bowed, his muscles limp as the two guards dragged him over the grass behind us.

  "I'll put him back into that cell right now if you tell me where Maddie is," he told me.

  "I don't know."

  "Mm," he said. "You, misplace your precious little sister? I doubt that very much."

  "I really don't know!"

  The guards yanked Callum's arms out, attaching his wrists to the straps at the ends of the cross. They yanked the straps tight, and he raised his head, his back arching as he hissed in pain.

  "We can start with the whip," Rippedthroat said, "and then move on to more permanent...alterations...if she's still hard-headed."

  He nodded to the guards. One of them unfurled the whip in his hand.

  Always solicitous, my father put his hand on my shoulder and guided me back out of the path of the strike.

  The lash whipped across Callum's broad shoulders. The sound, in the thin morning air, was like an explosion. One second there was a white ghost of a scar twisting across his skin, and the next it looked as if it had been ripped open again. The stripe led from the top of one shoulder to the shoulder blade on the other side, a thin line that was already weeping blood.

  I looked away, swallowing hard.

  My father's voice was low in my ear when he whispered, "If you look away, it doesn't mean we aren't hurting him."

  The whip slashed again, and then the crack of it splitting his skin open was almost as loud at the gunshot.

  And again. And again. And again.

  Callum's body jerked with each strike, but he was silent.

  "Where is she?" My father asked again.

  "I still don't know," I whispered.

  My father grabbed my arm and muscled me around the circle to stand in front of Callum. He dragged me close to the cross in front of him so I could see his face hanging below the cross-beam. Callum's teeth were gritted, his face beaded with sweat.

  Callum's eyes met mine. He did his best to wink, his dark lashes fluttering over hazel eyes. Even now, he was trying to take care of me.

  This time, when the whip cracked and he ground down on his teeth, swallowing back the scream that filled his lungs, I was close enough to see every muscle ripple in his face and body. Agony. He was in agony.

  "I really don't know.” There was a sob in my voice that I couldn’t hold back.

  "Is she here on the island or back on the mainland?" he demanded. His fingers closed around my jaw, wrenching my gaze to meet his. "Let's start with something easy for you, Piper. Surely you know that much."

  He didn't know she had reached the island. Light rose in my chest. How many of Arthur's wolves had seen Maddie at the dock or in the house? And yet, they'd kept her secret.

  I shook my head. Maybe I should lie that she was on the mainland. That would lead him in the wrong direction. But I needed a plan first. My mind raced. At least he'
d be more likely to believe me if I hesitated.

  "I know you're stupid, Piper, but you can't expect me to believe you're that stupid." He raised his voice. "Cut off those runes he wears. No wolf deserves any magic."

  The guard dropped the whip and left it like an impossibly long black snake in the grass. He drew his knife out from his belt.

  "No," I whispered. "Please don't kill him."

  "I'm not going to kill him," he said. "You are. I can heal him. Just say the word, Piper."

  "Please."

  The guard put the tip of his knife against Callum's bicep, right at the tip of one ten-pointed star. He glanced toward my father for permission.

  "You’re doing this to him, Piper," my father said, his tone just as pleasant and easy as it ever had been. He nodded to the guard.

  Callum's breath drew ragged as the guard dug the point of the blade into his skin. Blood streamed down his bicep as the man slid the blade inside the hole he'd just made and began to saw downward, cutting away a broad circle of flesh and blood.

  Rippedthroat watched Callum's face intently. "Wait."

  The guard paused. The circle of flesh and skin hung, doubled over itself. Nausea spooled through my stomach.

  "He's going into shock," Rippedthroat said. "We don't want that. We want him right here with us...and Piper. Bring me the kit from the car."

  The other guard took off at a run for the car.

  The shifter crossed his arms over his chest, glancing away.

  If there was ever a chance at taking my father down, it was now.

  I abruptly threw myself forward, as if I was running for the whip on the ground.

  My father jerked the gun out of his holster, but that was what I had expected. I reversed course to throw myself at him before he even managed to twitch his jacket open.

  We knew each other so well, after all.

  I grabbed his wrist, throwing my weight into his shoulder, trying to break his grip on the gun. I had to get it away from him for us to have a chance.

  The guard by the car turned back. The one with the knife started forward and then stopped, his face confused. My father wanted me alive. Needed me alive. That gave me better odds.

  My father and I wrestled for the gun.