Caleb’s deep growl came out like a groan. He’d never expected her to risk her life to escape him. When he’d left her in the otherworld, he’d imagined her naked and desperate, counting the seconds until he returned. Elves’ blood, he’d damn near raped her. And she hated him for that. Everything about her touched the emotions he constantly suppressed. With her, he wanted to laugh, feel, and play, but he’d forfeited his dream when he carted her off to his hunting lodge to keep her from his brother’s wedding.
“Women are notoriously softhearted.” Ron shook his head and considered. “There’s nothing for it. You’ll have to come with us.”
BEFORE SYLVIE COULD argue, he flung her on top of Caleb. As Ron slammed the doors, she glimpsed a second van. God, how many of these idiots were there? Shut in darkness so intense she felt as though she wore a blindfold, she heard the engine fire up. As the van bounced down an unmade track, every bump tossed her and Caleb around like dice in a cup. Even hog-tied in silver chains, she saw how hard he tried not to crush her, but when he rasped out an apology for involving her in his mess, she turned away. Finally she found a handhold and pulled herself into a sitting position. Silence stretched between them.
If Sylvie told these witless wonders how she lusted after King Caleb, they’d never trust her enough to set her free. She needed to get away and fetch help, but damn it, she must have a sign that said KIDNAP ME stuck on her chest.
She tried to remember everything she’d learned about method acting and threw herself into her “plucky, wronged woman” role. That stark, betrayed look in Caleb’s eyes made her heart ache, but Ron and his accomplices could hear every word. She needed to convince their captors she was on their side, so she hardened her heart and refused to meet Caleb’s plaintive gaze.
She constantly tried to grasp her powers, but they stayed frustratingly out of reach. Her anguished, fairy shriek bubbled inside her, but it would shatter human eardrums. If these bigots crashed the car, things would only get worse.
She wanted to throw her arms around Caleb and comfort him. At the very least, she wanted to bury her head in his golden fur, but even if they were free, she wouldn’t do that. Not after she’d seen him lap up attention from those big-bosomed floozies. Not that she was jealous or anything—yeah, right. Back in the tower, she’d given herself completely, and she’d hoped he’d done the same. Damn it, second-best again.
A powerless fairy, more human than Fae, she’d never measure up to the Lykae king’s standards. She’d liked things better back when he’d been a bodyguard with a penchant for kinky sex. Back when they’d had a chance of a future. When he’d erupted from the woods, Caleb had radiated fierceness and power. He made her feel like she mattered. Deep down, she’d loved how he’d shouted,
“Mine.”
Only, a king needed a strong queen, not a half-blood Fae with intermittent magic. His wicked sexual games left her frustrated, but her bone-shattering orgasm had changed everything—until he’d left her locked up and alone. He was a serial seducer, a hardened liar who’d deceived her from the start. He’d insulted her over and over, but her confusing Lykae stared at her as if she’d hurt him.
He was all towering muscle, teeth, and claws. She didn’t envy their captors if he got loose. His fearsome beast form would howl in triumph as he ripped off their limbs, but she knew he’d never hurt her. Despite everything, she still wanted to stick around and be his sex toy, but if she did, her brother would mount his battle dragon and start the war she’d tried so hard to stop.
The way her arrogant seducer lay beside her—helpless and chained but still struggling against the silver that bound him—brought a lump to her throat. The only way she could help him was to wear her disgust like a cloak. That way they might both survive.
She’d always treasure the memories of the way he’d roused her wanton side, and she loved how he’d feasted on her cunt, then fucked her so hard she’d ached when she walked. As she relived each memory, her magic flared inside her, but when she tried to grasp it, the power slid though her fingers and faded.
A sharp right turn threw Caleb’s wolfish head against her thigh. The touch of his fur-covered snout was warmth and comfort in a world of kidnappers and would-be killers, but she needed to stay strong for them. The sense of loss when she deliberately curled her legs away was overwhelming.
The journey seemed endless, but they finally jerked to a halt. The late afternoon sunshine flooded in and dazzled her.
Ron half helped her, half pulled her from the van’s dark interior. “Watch your step and go inside.”
Caleb growled, all teeth, claws, and obvious frustration. As she watched, he grasped his ankles and curled into a ball. He rolled out of the van, slammed into Ron, and used his massive bulk to pin his captor to the ground.
Ron’s gang surrounded them like jackals closing in on fallen prey. One giggled—high-pitched and girlie—as he kicked Caleb over and over. Another used Caleb’s thighs like a punching bag. A third walloped him across the chest with a tire lever. The one with the long hair and glasses hung back and watched, a sadistic smile on his lips as he enjoyed Caleb’s pain.
Sylvie looked away, unable to watch Caleb suffer, but more than ever she needed to convince these maniacs she was on their side.
Caleb turned sad, resigned eyes on her. “Run, and don’t look back.”
Even chained and defenseless, he looked out for her. Amazed at his self-sacrifice, she stared toward the woodland—but she hadn’t a clue where their captors had brought them.
“Don’t even think about it.” Long Hair and Glasses leveled a gun at her chest. “And make your pet fucktard behave.”
The other three struggled to shove Caleb’s bulk off Ron. Finally free of the Lykae’s crushing weight, Ron panted and groaned as though he’d been in a car crash. His furious glower promised Caleb more pain. “Fucking dog. I’ll kill you for this.”
If she could’ve got her hands on that gun, Sylvie would have shot them where they stood. Caleb lay motionless and panting, but throughout the beating, he’d never made a sound—except when he tried to save her.
Brave Lykae warrior—fighting to keep me safe.
Her heart melted, and she wanted to fling herself on his chest, but that wouldn’t help them escape. She glowered at Long Hair and Glasses. “He’s not mine. I wouldn’t have him even now you’ve got him gift wrapped.”
She helped Ron to his feet and offered him her most flirtatious smile. “That thing deserves everything he gets.”
“You’ll regret that, wolf-man.” Ron kicked out at Caleb’s damaged ribs. “Drag the stinking animal inside and shove him in his cage.”
Sylvie winced when they dragged Caleb across the rocky ground, but even though blood bubbled up through her Lykae’s fur, he never made a sound. She kicked her shoes beneath the van and hoped that when the packs discovered Caleb was missing, they could track them by her smell. Scanning the forest to work out their location, she trailed after her captors into a log cabin.
Ron and his gang of bigots forced Caleb into a six-foot cube of steel bars and kicked him senseless. Sylvie looked around for a weapon, but she was useless against brute strength and muscle. If only she could contact the Lykae packs, they’d make these madmen pay in blood and pain. Finally when Caleb’s body went limp, their captors backed off and slammed the cage door.
Please God, don’t let him be dead.
Ron grinned like a gibbon, slid the key in his pocket, and wrapped his arm around Sylvie’s waist. She almost shuddered at his touch, but for Caleb’s sake she’d pretend she liked Ron’s embrace. Good grief, she’d give anything to get hold of his gangster friend’s gun. Instead, she snuggled against Ron’s side and flashed him her best come-get-it smile.
“Thank you for rescuing me.” She faltered. “He’s so big and scary, I don’t know what I’d have done when he came after me. The way you stood up to him was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Ron soaked up the flattery like a sponge. “We’re not set up for visitors, but come through to the kitchen and you can make us a brew.”
Her? Make them a brew? The chauvinistic bastard thought she was some chattel to order about at will—but for the moment she’d play his game. She bristled when he ran his fingers up and down her arm, remembered her role, and smiled again.
The well-equipped kitchen seemed incongruous in this run-down shed. As she hunted for mugs and coffee, Sylvie asked, “How could you get all this together so quickly?”
“I’ve known Daphne’s little secret for years.” Ron smirked. “But as long as her human half won out, I didn’t give a damn. Once she married that stinking dog, she sealed his fate. Then I cottoned on that his brother was their freaking king. There’s this organization online, the People’s Defense League, and they supplied the silver chains and steel cage.”
The man was a mass of prejudice and hatred, but he’d found more bigots to fund his cruel games. For now, she stared out at the forest and tried to figure out how to get free. At least the plants wouldn’t eat her out there. Only she didn’t want to run off and leave Caleb chained up and imprisoned in that steel cage.
Meanwhile, she pretended she suffered from Stockholm syndrome and filled the kettle. It wasn’t until Ron sat at the table and sharpened his silver butcher’s knife that her compliance faltered.
“I wonder”—he tested the edge of the blade with his thumb—“where the root of his power lies. Do you think his brain’s wired up different, or do you think it’s his heart? There’s only one way to find out, but I think I’ll hamstring him and make him beg before I skin him alive.”
“But I thought you planned to use him to control the Lykae? Actually”—Sylvie rested her hand on his shoulder—“I thought you were pretty smart, capturing him like that.”
“I considered it.” He leered. “But this way’s more fun.”
“As long as the chains hold. Ron, are you sure they’re secure?”
“The Internet’s full of information, and it turns out silver really is wolf-man’s Achilles’ heel.”
She almost laughed at his reliance on search engines, but he’d hit the jackpot with this silver thing. And what the hell was the People’s Defense League? They obviously despised the Lykae, but how did they feel about the Fae? She’d give good odds they weren’t all fuzzy and warm toward them. What if they started to kidnap and torture them too?
These creeps called Caleb an animal, but they were the ones out of control here. Once she got free, she’d warn her brother about these monsters masquerading as freedom fighters in a war that didn’t exist—yet. If they killed Caleb or hurt her, the otherworld would close ranks and destroy them. She’d survive today and somehow save Caleb. She had to, but she’d pump Ron for information along the way. She just wished she had knockout drops instead of sugar to put in their tea.
Chapter Eight
Caleb recovered slowly, but the silver chains still locked him in his primal beast form. Every sinew of his massive body ached. The chains burned through his fur, then branded deep welts in his flesh. At least two of his ribs were broken, but the way Sylvie allied herself with his enemies wounded him more than his bruises and burns. Only, where the hell was she? How could he keep her safe when he couldn’t find her? Fuck, how could he keep her safe when he was chained up tighter than a virgin’s knickers? He growled when Ron swaggered back, Sylvie at his heels.
“Hey, wolf-man.” Ron clattered the knife over the cage bars. “I’m going to get me a fur coat. Come here, Sylvie babe, and tell him how you’ll enjoy seeing him get his.”
Her smile rubbed acid into Caleb’s wounds. “Enjoy it? After the way he treated me, I’ll cheer. Just make sure all your men gather to watch you tame the big, bad wolf.”
“Don’t worry, babe. Everyone’s here.”
Caleb stared at her with wolfish intensity, his pain at her defection showing only in his eyes, but after the way he’d abused her, he deserved her disgust. He tugged and tested his chains, but the silver felt red-hot as it burned his flesh. Somehow he’d get Sylvie out of here—whether she wanted it or not—but he still needed to figure out how.
He couldn’t work out why she seemed to be doing a head count and matching gang members to empty mugs. Sylvie waited until everyone gathered, but she trembled when Ron unlocked the cage.
Excitement? Fear?
Caleb’s inner wolf yowled.
Or does she just hate me so much she wants to see me hurt again?
Ron hugged Sylvie to his side and planted a wet kiss on her cheek. Caleb’s primal beast went wild, clawing at his chest and howling with rage. He struggled at the chains, wanting that creep’s arm off Sylvie’s waist. When Ron released her, he stepped into the cage, raised his silver butcher’s knife high, and closed in on Caleb.
Sylvie inhaled a deep breath. As she breathed out, she sent her loudest banshee shriek flowing through the room. Eardrums shattered. Blood poured from her captors’ eyeballs and ears. Two collapsed on the floor. Two more staggered outside. As Ron practically fell out the cage, he grabbed her hair and silenced her with a punch to her stomach.
Werewolves were immune to magic, and to Caleb her shriek was just an irritating, overly loud noise, but he wondered what game she was playing now. She’d shriveled his heart when she’d claimed she despised him. Now she protected him? Maybe, just maybe, she cared for him after all. He wished he knew what the hell was going on in her head. Whatever the case, Ron would die a long, slow death after Caleb broke one of his bones for every tear he’d made her cry.
Ron blinked blood from his eyes, shoved her in the cage, and slammed the door. “The pair of you can stay here and starve. We’re off to find a doctor, and we won’t be back for three or four days. You’ll just have to hope your pet dog doesn’t eat you when he gets hungry. Think about that, but remember, we’ll be back eventually—and we’ll bring earplugs.”
Once certain they’d gone, Caleb rasped, “I don’t eat little girls.”
“You did before.” She blushed. “And—”
He cut her off midsentence. “Well, I won’t again. Now concentrate on getting out of here.”
She reached across and touched his chains. “We need you out of these. Do they hurt?”