by Cathryn Fox
As it drapes my body I notice how easy it is to get in and out of. That detail might seem like a little thing to most but it’s those little things that make a big difference on a mission, especially if I need to shift in a hurry.
I stare at my reflection and also notice how it accentuates what little curves I have and how the pretty diamond-like stones glisten in the overhead light. As I run my hands over the fake jewels I consider all the weapons I could make with them if only they were real.
When Miss Kara spins her finger, I twirl in front of the mirror and think the dress is beautiful. I keep that point to myself, but it doesn’t stop me from longing to be a normal girl, one who might enjoy such nice things.
“You look gorgeous,” she assures me, a look of satisfaction crossing her flawless, coffee-colored face.
A few minutes later she gives Mario a nod and the next thing I know I’m being led back downstairs and into the master’s den.
Mario pushes open the door and ushers me inside. The second I step through the threshold and spot Stone sitting in one of the leather chairs facing the master’s desk my stomach plummets.
My master waves a hand, an indication for me to sit in the empty chair next to Stone. At first I don’t move, I don’t think my legs will allow me to cross the room, but Mario nudges me from behind and it sets me into motion. I tug on my collar which suddenly seems to be cutting off my air supply and work to keep my emotions in check as I pad softly across the cool marble floor.
The master gives an appreciative nod. “You look very pretty today.” When I don’t answer, he hardens his voice and says, “Have a seat, Pride.”
I lower myself. The whooshing sound the aged leather chair reminds me of flapping feathers and I can’t help thinking how much I’d like to have my own set of wings right now so I could fly out the master’s window and disappear into the wild forever.
Once I am seated, my master stands, walks to his mahogany bar and pours a generous amount of amber liquid into a small glass. I wish he’d get straight to the point, but instead he takes a hearty sip of alcohol, then pulls a gold lighter out of his suit pocket and lights a cigar. The pungent odor curls through the room, coats my throat like a thick layer of cotton, and threatens my gag reflexes. But I can’t think about that right now. Not with the way the master has suddenly turned to me, his dark eyes more deadly than a silver bullet.
“Pride…” the master begins before taking a long hard pull of his cigar. I stare at him, and despite knowing better, I offer him my best cold face, but he doesn’t flinch like the handlers do.
“Yes?” I ask.
A long pause and then, “I believe the time has come for you to take a mate.”
“No!” I burst out and jump to my feet so quickly I nearly send the chair hurtling backwards.
My master looks past my shoulder and I barely hear Mario’s quiet approach over the rapid pounding of my heart. I feel him move in close, ready to intervene should I get out of hand.
“It’s time for you to breed, Pride.” Everything in the way he’s staring at me tells me it’s not a suggestion, it’s an order.
As my worst nightmare comes true, the entire room begins to spin before my eyes and I lean forward to grip the edge of the master’s desk to help stabilize myself.
“But I’m a runt,” I say, then shoot Stone a pleading glance. “Why would you ever want to mate with a runt?”
Stone shakes his head in disbelief and the delight in his eyes as they trail longingly over my dress makes me shake with outrage.
“You have no idea, do you Pride?” he asks. “No idea at all.”
No idea? What’s he talking about?
“You will take him as a mate,” my master insists.
“I won’t,” I shoot back, and the master gives me a warning glare, clearly angered by my defiance–a defiance that won’t go unpunished, I’m sure. But why should I care about that? At this point any harsh punishment would pale in comparison to mating with Stone. “I’ll fight him.”
Ignoring my outburst the master says, “You will be placed in Stone’s cell in six days.”
Six days? Why six days? I struggle to think, then understanding hits.
In six days the moon will be full. I will be at my most fertile and Stone will be at his strongest.
“I won’t do it,” I say, and our eyes lock in a silent battle of wills.
The master drops his cigar into the ashtray and with two determined strides he crosses the room. He captures my face between his strong fingers and squeezes hard. From the corner of my eye I notice Stone toying with his collar and shifting in his seat. He has a strange expression on his face. It’s one I’ve never seen before and can’t quite identify.
The pain exploding in my jaw forces my focus onto my master. Even though his frame dwarfs mine, I jerk my head and stand my ground. His hold never wavers. His fingers bite into my flesh, but I know he’ll never leave a mark on my cheek and risk disfiguring me. He needs my face unmarred and attractive if he wants me to lure his marks.
I continue to defy him by staring straight into his eyes. “Why?” I demand.
He laughs and eases off. “You’re a smart girl. I thought you would have figured it out by now.”
“Figured what out?”
“You’re too wild, Pride, and don’t for one minute think that I haven’t noticed the way you’re always listening and watching.” He releases my face and steps back. “Motherhood is just the thing to tame you.”
I give a very unladylike grunt and counter, “And you’re going to risk breeding a genetic defect into the family so you can tame me?”
“Who knows, maybe we’ll get lucky.” He cocks his head and fixes me with a good hard look. “A pup will calm you down. If it doesn’t then I’ll be forced to kill you, like I killed your mother.”
Rage surges up inside me and it takes every ounce of strength I possess to fight it down. If there is ever a time that I need to keep my wits about me, it’s now. Instead of going for his throat and making him pay for what he did to my mother, I force myself to think with my head, not my heart. I avert my gaze and draw on my inner strength to help me shake off the anger.
Deep in my gut I know that someday, somehow his time will come, but with Mario standing so close behind me, a loaded gun in his holster, I know it isn’t going to be today. I also know that getting myself killed isn’t going to help me exact revenge, either.
With the distinct knowledge that my master is still holding all the cards, I take a calming breath and glance around. It’s clear that I have to do something. It’s also clear that I only have six days to figure out what it is I have to do.
“That’s much better, Pride.”
I lower my head and stare at the cold marble floor beneath me and decide, for the time being, that I’ll let him think I’m playing it his way.
“Good girl,” he says and twists on the balls of his feet to pick up his cigar. “I knew you’d come around.” The master snaps his fingers and Mario steps away and opens the door for him.
“Stone,” the master says as he tosses him a glance. “Since you were so efficient at disposing of the evidence after your last kill, I’ll give you those five minutes alone with her, like you wanted.”
The master grins at me. “I’m sure you have a lot to talk about before the big day.”
After he leaves the room, Mario takes up his post by the door and keeps a watch over us. The sound of Stone climbing from his chair pulls my focus and I turn to him.
“I knew you’d look gorgeous in a dress.” He gives me a wolfish smile as he stalks toward me.
I take a step back and snarl. “So you’re the one who wanted me in this?”
“Yeah, I want you to wear it for our first mating.” He darts a nervous glance toward Mario, then wets his lips as he focuses back in on me.
Once again I feel him surfing the outer barriers of my mind, trying to push his way in. To say I’m enraged is an understatement. I use every bit of strength I have
to drive him back. I will not let him invade my privacy and the last things I want to hear are his erratic thoughts.
As rage mushrooms inside me, a smile softens his expression and he leans forward, like he wants to whisper something in my ear but I’ve heard all I’ve needed to hear so I press my hand against his chest to keep him at a distance.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that it’s bad luck to see the bride in her gown before the wedding?” I shoot back.
When Mario clears his throat, Stone’s body stiffens and I can’t help but think how odd he’s acting. “Come on kitty-cat, it won’t be so bad.” He casually rolls one shoulder and laughs a little too loud. “Who knows, you might even like it.”
At least he’s right about one thing. It won’t be so bad. Because as I watch his gaze move over my face, I make a silent vow to do whatever it takes to stop this mating from happening. Not only does the thought of him touching me make me sick, no way, no how am I about to bring puppies into this world to let them suffer at the hands of the master.
4
August 24th, five days until full moon
* * *
Silence hums overhead and practically deafens me as I jump from my cot and grip the cold, metal bars that keep me imprisoned. I cock my head and listen for sound, but the upstairs is quiet, no footsteps, no whispered words, and no rattling pipes, a good indication that the master and his staff have retired for the night.
Restless and edgy I twist my head and glance around my small cell. I fight down my feelings of anxiousness and suck in a breath but the air feels so heavy and suffocating I can barely inflate my lungs.
When my tired eyes fall on my ratty blanket, I smooth down my nightgown and stare at my bed with longing. While everything inside me urges me to rest—in the upcoming days I’ll need to be fresh to win this battle—sleep continues to elude me. Every time I close my eyes I see Stone and that cocky smirk on his face, one that says he’s finally going to defeat me.
Ice moves through my veins and I shiver, violently. Just thinking about Stone touching me, crawling over my body and claiming me as his mate has bile pushing into my throat. I try to swallow but my body is so dehydrated I’m unable to produce enough saliva to clear the bitter taste. I pinch my eyes shut and stifle a low, tortured growl. My hands squeeze the metal bar so hard the hinges begin to groan in protest.
When the sound curls under my skin, my eyes snap open and I instinctively test the durability of the cage. But if past experience has taught me anything it’s that the bars are indestructible. Not even my wolf’s strength can bend the reinforced metal. Instead of trying, I save my energy. As I work to calm myself I take in the empty cages beside me.
My gaze settles on the uneaten food that I’d distributed to my bunkmates earlier. From my short distance I can see the edges of the bread hardening, and catch the unpleasant tang of the warm fruit spoiling. I glance at the stairs then back to my victor’s winnings, understanding someone pulled them out of here before they could eat.
Disturbed by that thought, I suck in another sharp breath, and that’s when I get a whiff of the crispy bacon. The heady smell of meat might be tantalizing to my wolf, but under the circumstances my human stomach is too queasy to think about eating.
I’m sure news of my mating has spread through the pack and I can only hope that the master put Jace and Clover in another cell to prevent us from conspiring, from trying to find a way around his outrageous demands. But something in my gut warns that he might be using my empathy for my bunkmates against me.
Empathy is a weakness in this prison and although it’s an emotion I’ve worked hard to keep hidden from my master, I realize he’s cunning enough to understand I have concerns for the others, and he’s cruel enough to use those concerns against me.
I can’t bear to think about the elders, or what the master might have planned for them, so I turn from their empty cages and begin to pace, welcoming the feel of the cold cement pad beneath my feet. The damp floor feels icier than ever, and my pain censors react, sending warning signals to my brain. I should listen to those jangling alarms bells and climb into my bunk before I freeze the rough soles of my feet, but since I’m in need of a distraction, I embrace the pain and let it fuel my wolf. It’s my pain that keeps my instincts sharp and helps me stay alive.
I continue to pace, and my thoughts bounce around my brain like a pinball as I work to strategize an escape. Even if I’m able to conquer the first roadblock and make it past the electric fence where would I go? How would I hide?
Would I head north, like my mother, and hope to find a pack that could help me? What if no such pack exists? What if it’s only false hope?
I’m not sure where I’ll go or what I’ll do but decide to narrow my focus on the first roadblock at hand. As I wrack my brain, trying to figure a way around the fence, the hours slowly slip by, and soon enough I hear footsteps and muffled voices trickling down through the floorboards overheard. I still and stare at the door, waiting for what feels like forever for it to open.
Even more hours tick by and soon enough my bladder fills to the point of urgency, yet no one comes to my rescue. No handler has come to let the rebellious dog out. Then suddenly, understanding dawns in small increments. I’m paying for yesterday’s disobedience.
Since I refuse to relieve myself in the corner, and give the master that kind of power, I drop to my knees and desperately try to ignore my body’s basic needs. I spread out a thin layer of dirt and use it as a distraction. As I draw a picture of a beach, my own personal symbol of freedom, I repeat my mantra: I will not let him break me.
My senses perk when I finally hear the soft click of the lock overheard. I remain hunkered down in a defensive position and while I tune out the chaos erupting inside me, I mask my features and present a hardened exterior to my approaching handler.
Exercising caution, Lawrence descends the stairs slowly, but when a loud boom sounds from above, and the house practically rattles from the impact he braces himself on the steps. I wince at the sound, and choke back a cough as the noise disturbs a deep layer of dust on the overhead beams. My stomach drops and a terrible sense of foreboding fills me as small cloudy particles rain from the ceiling and wash out my drawing. I’m not superstitious, but I hate to think that it’s a sign of sorts.
I wait for the aftershock. When none comes I can’t help but think the commotion coming from above feels more like the wrath of the master and less like a California earthquake, which can’t be good for any of us.
When the house stops vibrating, Lawrence resumes his approach, each menacing step meant to threaten my wolf and send it into hiding.
He exposes those rotten teeth of his and says, “Hey, kitten. The master wants to see you.”
I glance up the steps and take in the slant of the sun on the barren stairwell wall. Judging by the angle, I can tell it’s well into the late afternoon. As happy as I am to see daylight, I can’t forget what the dawning of a new day really means. Five more sleeps until the full moon, until my fate is sealed.
Anger wells inside my gut but I push it down, knowing I need to keep my head clear. I rise up from my crouched position and my lips peel back as I glare at Lawrence.
“What does he want?” I ask, even though I’m fully aware that Lawrence has no idea why I’m being summoned. When it comes to the master’s business affairs, the handlers know little more than the wolves do. But I ask anyway because it’s my way of reminding him that he’s not all that high on the pecking order either.
“If I tell you, then I have to kill you,” he taunts.
“Try,” I say. I’m in such a foul mood that I don’t even care what punishment comes with my disobedience.
His smile quickly dissolves and he throws my collar at me. With my lightning fast reflexes I catch it before it hits my face and that only seems to anger him more.
He exposes his gun. “Leash up, kitten.”
As I snap my collar into place, my thoughts return to my master and I lose inte
rest in sparring with Lawrence. Moving about numbly, I let Lawrence secure my chain and lead me toward the stairs. As I climb, I hear the other wolves in the courtyard. I listen for Jace and Clover, but can’t quite distinguish their voices in the crowd.
A warm breeze carries the succulent scent of meat past my face, and my stomach rebels, a reminder that I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning.
When we reach the landing, Lawrence guides me toward the hall but I stop outside the small bathroom door. He gives a ruthless yank on my chain and I grunt as it sends my body jerking forward.
I quickly regain my balance and our gazes clash in a silent battle. “Would you prefer I go on the master’s floor?” I ask.
Something akin to fear passes over his eyes before he quickly masks it. Trying to look unfazed, he shifts on the balls of his feet, but I can tell he’s uncomfortable and working hard to hide it.
“You have one minute.”
He doesn’t let go of my chain, instead he grips it tighter and stands guard outside the open bathroom door. I have to relieve myself so badly I don’t complain. I dart inside, pull up my nightgown and quickly go about my business. Once complete I wash my hands, and then cup them to take a generous gulp of water. I glance in the mirror and see yesterday’s makeup smudged beneath my tired eyes. It reminds me of how the master wanted me prettied up. Just thinking about him has the hairs on my nape prickling in warning.
What more could he want from me?
“Time’s up.” This time Lawrence yanks my chain so hard, it practically snaps my neck. A soft growl rumbles in my throat, and in an instinctive move my nails begin to elongate, my primal side wrestling for control.
He glares at me and moments before he gives the chain another savage yank—to keep the unruly pup in line—the master barks out an order from his office door. When the sound reaches our ears Lawrence straightens. Eyes wide, he pinches his lips together and they tremble slightly as they form a tight white line. He immediately falls into place in front of me and hurries down the hallway.