Pride's Run (5 page)

“We have so much work to do.” She efficiently
claps her hands, then points to the bathroom. “First let’s get you
showered. Now hurry.”

I do as I’m told, but enjoy a few extra
minutes beneath the hot steam, taking pleasure in the needle-like
spray on my muddy body. I lather my hair with strawberry scented
shampoo and scrub the obstacle course dirt from my skin with
honeycomb soap that smells good enough to eat.

With my flesh practically rubbed raw, I climb
from the shower, wrap a big fluffy towel around myself and exit the
bathroom. Miss Kara guides me to the grooming station, running her
fingers through my hair as we walk, and I take notice of the new
white dress draped over her recliner.

The master often puts me in pretty clothes to
lure my mark, especially when they’re a difficult target. Perhaps
there is nothing more to his surprise than that. A difficult mark
in need of extra persuasion.

As Miss Kara seats me in front of the mirror,
I try to engage her in conversation. With a nod, I gesture toward
the dress and work to keep my voice light when I say, “It must be a
challenging assignment if the master is putting me in something so
pretty.”

Dark lashes flash quickly over brown eyes and
she keeps her expression blank when she answers. “It might be your
most difficult assignment yet, Pride.”

I don’t miss the strange catch in her voice,
or the flash of angst in her eyes before she quickly blinks it
away. I get the distinct impression that she, too, is keeping
something from me as I study her in the mirror and will her to look
at me. But there is nothing I can do to make her meet my eyes.

Close to an hour later, after I’ve been
plucked, perfumed and prettied up, Miss Kara splits the delicate
dress down the back and I climb in from the neckline.

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 makes 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.

August 24
^th
,
five days until full moon

S
ilence 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.