Shift Happens (A Carus Novel Book 1) (24 page)

“What?”

“I don’t like you.” She lifted her head and her sad eyes met mine. “But I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.”

“Wish what?”

Angie opened her mouth to say more when the door opened. She quickly clamped her lips, dropped her gaze and rounded her shoulders inward, her body language alerting the warning bells in my brain. It didn’t look right on her, this submissive, scared posture reeking of fear. It sent tiny shocks down my body as if little fish nipped at my skin. Angie didn’t strike me as a person who frightened easily.

A stout man walked into the room. His greasy hair was tucked behind his gnarled ears with the exception of a portion used as a modest comb-over. His shiny scalp gleamed through the sparse cover. Despite his rotund belly, he moved with a sleek, quick grace—a Were.

His beady black eyes watched me intently as he approached. His non-existent top lip curled up into a nasty sneer. A Wererat, maybe?

My nose crinkled at the stench rolling off him—a disturbing mix of asparagus ridden piss and cooked shrimp. It took me a minute to place what caused my nose hairs to shrivel up and hide.

“Hyena,” I grunted. Never met one who’d pass a sanity test.

The man dipped his head. “But the burning questions is—what are you?”

“A wolf.” The truth, but not the whole truth.

“You’re not a Were.” The man stepped up to the table and ran a finger down the naked flesh spanning over my ribs.

“No.”

“A little wolf Shifter.” He picked up one of the shiny utensils from the tray near the table. I didn’t want to look, but I stared at the knife. He held it up to the light as if he too was mesmerized by how the light played off the sharp edge and smooth sides.

“Yes.” He’d get one word answers from me.

“Pathetic and weak.” The flat of the blade was cold against the soft tissue of my stomach.

“Sure.” I tightened my abs to avoid flinching, but when he dug the edge of the knife into the sensitive skin on my side below the ribcage, I jerked.

The man laughed. “That was a lie. You think you’re stronger than that.”

“Yup.”

“Where’s your fera?” He leaned over my body and ran the blade down my left cheek. He didn’t apply enough pressure for it to cut deep or bleed profusely, but it left a sting. Torture by paper cuts.
Awesome.

“Around.”

“If she’s in the area, we’ll find her.”

“Okay.”

The man cocked his head. “You don’t believe me.”

“Should I apologize?”

“No.” He focused on my skin again, his eyes widening along with his smile. The way he licked his lips, made me think of a man walking out of the desert and seeing a fountain of water for the first time.

A bead of sweat dripped down my hairline as the blade slid up my rib cage, catching on each rib in turn, over the delicate curve of my underarm, and along the soft skin tissue inside my bicep. Drawing the knife against the soft tissue of my arm, he increased the pressure until it drew blood.

“You’ll be begging soon enough,” he said.

Without needing to scent the air, I knew he spoke the truth. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Angie squirm, moving her weight from one foot to the other, glancing everywhere in the room but where I lay. When our eyes finally met, she froze before casting her gaze down to her feet. She swayed back and forth, the bold smell of sweat laced with her perfume drifted across the room. “You’re not going to join in?” I asked.

Angie looked up with…sympathy?

“Angelica doesn’t like this sort of play.” The man made another slow slash at my skin. “I could order her to participate, of course. I have before. But she gets the shakes and last time she threw up. It’s distracting and I don’t like the smell.”

I peered over the side of the table, eyed my spewed stomach contents and smiled.
Take that, asshole
. Hyena Piss Man dug his knife into the inside of my thigh, snapping my attention back to him. I clenched the straps holding down my wrists and strained not to cry out. Panting, I gawked at him down the length of my body, his nose inches from my crotch. He missed the femoral artery, but not my reaction; a nasty smile spread across his face as he made a matching incision on the other thigh. I bit my tongue to stop the squeal lodged in my throat from getting out. Blood oozed from the cut. After the stinging sensations dulled, I decided he needed to talk more and cut less. “You don’t get off on Angie’s discomfort?”

“I get off on pain.” He straightened from my thighs and waved at the puke on the floor. Angie jumped and clambered to my side. She kept her face impassive as she cleaned the area up, but I smelled the sour tang of her anxiety, and the salty, yet sickly sweet stench of her fear.

I ignored Angie and turned to the Werehyena. “Have you met Clint? The two of you have a lot in common.”

“I’m nothing like that man,” Hyena man’s face darkened. “His tastes differ from mine.”

“You’re both fucked up in my opinion.”

He snorted. “You have a narrow scope on life.”

“I happen to like it.” I fished for information. Hyena Piss Man had no intensions of killing me any time soon, but if he planned to slit my throat after all this knife play, I’d prefer to have a ball park of when so I knew how much time I had to work with. I never counted on others to save me. Although, Wick barging through the doors right now would be nice. If I had the tracker in my arm it might’ve been a possibility.

“Oh, I’m not going to kill you.”

“Let me rephrase. I happen to like my life before I met you.”

The man sighed. “Such a limited palate.”

“I think a food reference in this situation is highly inappropriate.”

“You joke at a time like this?” He ran the blade down the inside of my left calf.

“Who said I was joking?” Bantering acted as a coping mechanism. It kept my mind from sinking into the seriousness of the situation and panicking. He’d do whatever he liked to me, no matter what I said or did. Defiance would give me something to focus on, and if I didn’t give this guy the reaction he wanted, he might lose interest and leave me alone. Or kill me. Then it would be over, and nothing more to worry about. Needless hours of torture—been there, done that, thanks to Dylan.

He didn’t comment on my last statement, preferring to eye my skin like a dog salivating over its food bowl. The bite of the blade on the inside of my knee was his answer. The sting vibrated up my leg and a shriek caught in my throat.

The Werehyena leaned over me, shoving his face inches from my own. His breath smelled of chewing tobacco and ginger beef—not a good combination to his natural hyena piss and shrimp odour—and his teeth were yellow and crooked with pieces of cracked pepper wedged into the gaps. “Let me tell you how this is going to go.”

“Ok.” My face warped into an obedient one.

He didn’t miss a beat. He wasn’t looking at my face; instead he petted my skin with the flat of the blade. “I’m going to cut you. I’m going to ask you questions and then I’m going to cut you more. If I get turned on, I may fuck you. Or maybe I’ll get Angie to do it with a knife. Or maybe I’ll just keep cutting. If you answer my questions like a good little girl, maybe I’ll let you pick what I do. But I will do you one way or another.”

I was speechless from the mental picture of him hot and heavy and grunting on top of me, dredging up painful memories of my time with Dylan. Fear sliced through my body in time with his knife. I think I’d prefer Angie and the blade. If I survived this, he’d pay with a lot of pain. I’d let my wolf track him, my mountain lion play with him before ripping him apart, and my falcon carry the bits and pieces left over to smash against the rocks. The seagulls could fight over his remains.
Keep those thoughts close
.

“Do you understand?” The man leaned back, sniffing the air and considering every subtle movement of my body.

“Yes.”

“Will you answer my questions?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He reached over and dropped the knife in favor of a different one. This one was a scalpel. It looked like something I used in Biology class back in high school, except this one had no cracks or rust. At least I could cross out tetanus as a torture possibility.

“You have such beautiful lips.” The man leaned in again. His breath steamed up my face. I shut my eyes when the scalpel tip pressed against the corner of my mouth.

A thudding knock at the door rocked the silence of the room. I jumped. Or at least tried to—the straps held me down. The scalpel nicked the soft tissue at the corner up my mouth and I yelped. I tasted blood and my eyes watered at the sting.

The man cursed and straightened from his hunched position over me. “What?” he demanded at the closed door.

A muffled response filtered into the room.

“Fucking sound proofing.” The man chucked his scalpel onto the tray. The look of disgust caused his lip to curl up in a sneer. “Why anyone would want to muffle the exquisite sounds of someone’s pain is beyond me.”

The muffled knock came again.

“Open the fucking door you halfwit,” the man spat at Angie.

Angie jumped and stumbled to the door, flinging it open. A large male Wereleopard stood on the other side of the doorway, his skin deeply tanned and his arms rippled with muscle. From the way he stood with a slightly diminutive posture, easy to spot for a supe versed in Were dynamics, he was a sub. He looked at Angie with a question in his eyes and she replied by shaking her head in the slightest of movements.

“Well? What do you want?” Hyena Piss Man snarled at the Wereleopard.

“Master Monroe wishes to speak with you.”

“Wishes or wants?” The man asked as he toyed with my hair.

“Pardon, sir?”

“Was it a request or an order? Do I have to go right away?”

“I believe so, sir.”

“You believe?” The man yanked my hair so my head lifted off the table. “I’m busy. If I’ve been dragged away to speak with Monroe on an issue that could’ve waited, I will be displeased.”

The Wereleopard looked nonplused. “If it was a matter that could have waited, I doubt Master Monroe would request your presence.”

The man glared at the Wereleopard.

The leopard shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.”

“You forget, cat. Monroe isn’t my master. He can’t order me around, like he does you.”

“Which is why I believe he phrased it as a request.”

The man clutched my hair near the scalp and used it to slam my head against the table. The room sank and closed in on itself.

“It has to be important, because he wouldn’t interrupt you. Not when he knows how much you enjoy your…” The leopard trailed off, averting his eyes from the table and my strapped, vulnerable body.

Fetish? Hobby?
I would’ve been unsure how to classify the man’s perversion as well.

The Werehyena turned toward Angie. “Don’t leave the room and don’t touch her or unstrap her.” He turned toward the door, but stopped and snapped his fingers “And leave the door open. I want the men who walk by to witness her humiliation.” He walked back to the table and leaned down. Using his body weight and Were strength, he swung the table around on its wheels so I could look down my body to the open door. Anyone looking in would get a view meant only for lovers and my gynecologist.

“Mmmm. Feel that, Angie? That anger? That mortification? Can you smell it?”

“Yes,” Angie bit out. The burning scent of anger hopping around the room emanated from her and her pridemate as well, not just me.

Hyena Piss Man turned to me before leaving the room with the other Wereleopard. “Maybe I should let the men take you. One by one. Would you like that?”

“No.” Not sure how I managed speech with the images of Dylan strangling my throat with invisible hands.

Dylan’s powerful frame built for intimidation hovered over me. He savored the air, my scent laced with his personal aphrodisiac of trepidation and terror. I’d loved this man. I
chose
him.

“Not again,” I whimpered. The strong tang of his desire seared my nose. Dylan wasn’t the only one who reeked of anticipation. The others did, too. “Please.”

Dylan smirked, pulling his shirt over his head in one swift move, shucking his jeans off next. “Maybe if you beg, I’ll keep them from you, this time.”

Last night, after I refused the mate bond, he’d ordered every pack male to take a turn. Panic shook my body, urging me to flee. But there was nowhere to run. My head turned to the side to avoid looking at the men, reeking with anticipation. I would not be spared, no matter how much I begged. I’d learned that lesson.

Hyena Piss Man cocked his head and sniffed the air. “Truth.” His laughter trailed him as he walked down the hall out of sight, leaving me with my day-walking nightmares.

The asshole probably had no idea he triggered these memories
. When the last of the shakes racking my body dissipated, and the room cleared of my past horrors, I blinked away the tears in my eyes and surveyed the room. The Werehyena had left me alone with Angie.

“Let me go.” My voice came out as a hiss.

Angie shook her head. “I’ve been ordered to assist Mark and he told me not to unstrap you.
I can’t
.”

“Mark? Hyena Piss Man?”

Angie nodded.

“Did he order you to prevent my escape?”

Angie frowned, thinking over the Werehyena’s words. “No. Not expressly. How will you get out of the cuffs?”

“Don’t worry about that. Can you check the hallway? Is there anyone there?”

Angie turned and peered out of the door. She made sure to keep her feet inside to comply with Mark’s orders. “No.”

“Any open windows?”

Angie looked over her shoulder with her eyebrow raised in question.

I raised both of mine in response.

“Yes. There’s one at the end of the hallway to the right. Quite big, but it’s high up.”

As soon as she confirmed an open window was present, I willed the change. The shackles fell away from my petite falcon form. Angie gasped.

Stretching my wings, I took a little hop and launched into the air. Flapping wildly to maneuver through the doorway, I banked sharply to the right. Picking up speed, I flew through the empty hallway and out the open window.