Treeland Pack Tales 3: A Trace of Ivy

Treeland Pack Tales 3: A Taste of Ivy

Copyright © March 2013 by Evanne Lorraine

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eISBN
9781623002565

Editor: Antonia Pearce

Cover Artist: Marci Gass

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“Damn, you’re still so pretty.” Arousal deepened Bro’s voice
as he slid a possessive hand over Ivy’s left breast and casually tweaked her
sore nipple.

She didn’t share his excitement, never had and never would.
The rotten-meat stench all the monsters shared wasn’t quite as overpowering on
her current tormenter. However, a teeth-chilling metallic odor she associated
with his brand of pain delivery emanated from his skin, making her tense with
dread. He got off on scaring her. Sheer obstinacy kept her trying to conquer
the fear. She imagined a roaring bonfire and successfully quelled an urge to
shudder from his touch. “Thank you, Sir.”

A few weeks ago she’d been young, optimistic, and wouldn’t
have left her apartment without being dressed, nearly always in something cute
or at least flattering. Now she was none of those things, and she would’ve paid
serious money for any raggedy scrap to cover her body.

The next cruel pinch made her eyes water, and she blinked
hard. He continued to pluck at her nipples. Her skin crawled as if she were
covered in spiders. She breathed through her mouth to keep from inhaling his
stench. The first lesson she’d learned in captivity was how much rebellion
cost. No repetition of her first beating had been needed. Weeks later, she
remembered it well. She held still, keeping her neck bent, eyes down, and
waited for permission to leave.

Behind her the front door banged open. Jack yelled, “Give me
a hand for fuck’s sake.”

“Sure thing.” Dud ambled over and hefted half of the bloody
steer carcass onto his shoulder.

The roughly butchered animal bore no resemblance to cookbook
illustrations of beef.

“Put it in the kitchen.” Vic barked needlessly.

From the corner of Ivy’s vision, she saw Jack and Dud muscle
the meat inside. She had no idea why they bothered with a cooking space. The
beasts liked it raw.

Dud reappeared first and tossed a tied garbage bag to Bro.
“Scraps for the bitches.”

Ivy’s stomach roiled. She silently vowed to eat something,
no matter how disgusting, and keep it down. She couldn’t escape if she was too
weak to run.

“Meat’s ready.” Jack shouted.

Vic strolled toward the kitchen. Dud followed a respectful
three feet behind the leader.

“Come on, you bastards, I’m hungry. You’ve had all night to
fuck the bitches.” Bro banged on the wall to emphasize his demand.

Sly stumbled into the entry, barefoot and still zipping his
jeans. He yanked Tess, as naked as Ivy, forward, and then gave her a shove. “Move
your fat ass.”

She stumbled into Ivy.

“S-sorry,” she muttered, keeping her gaze safely pinned to
the floor.

Ivy risked peeking at her friend through her lashes. At
thirty, Tess was the oldest captive and so pale her freckles popped. So did her
fading multicolored bruises.

Loud thumps startled Ivy when Bro banged the wall again. “If
I have to drag you pussies out here, I’ll make sure you eat last for a week.”

Rank emerged from the back bedroom, dragging Kat by her dark
hair.

Ivy winced inside and clamped her jaw to keep quiet.
Protesting rough treatment never made the monsters play nice.

The sun was well up. Rank yawned. He and Sly turned to
leave.

“Bring me Rag’s sorry ass,” Bro growled.

The pair beat feet for the second floor. A few minutes
later, they came back downstairs with an unresisting, naked redheaded male held
between them.

“It’s not my fault the bitch won’t get up,” Rag whined.

“I’ll get her.” Tess stepped forward. Bro casually slapped her,
sending her crashing into the wall. She got up very slowly.

Ivy’s hands curled into tight fists. She forced her fingers
to unwind. The captives were smaller, weaker, and seriously outnumbered.
Fighting was as useless as protesting.

The monsters snapped, growled, and fought with each other.
None of these squabbles changed the pecking order—the toughest and meanest
stayed on top. Vic was the current leader. Bro ran a close second in the
contest for nastiest beast. Strangely those two males were also the most
consistent and the easiest to please.

When Ivy had been taken, she’d fought with the viciousness
of utter panic. The resulting beating had nearly killed her. She’d learned to
comply with the beasts’ demands. It was by far the hardest thing she’d ever done.
Survival didn’t feel like a victory when they violated her. Yet even locked in
the endless nightmare, her stubborn body healed, and hope refused to die.

Vic joined their unhappy group. “What the fuck’s wrong with
you idiots? Put the bitches to bed so I can enjoy my food.”

Bro stood straighter. “Rag says the new girl can’t walk.”

“Crazy dog is losing his shit. Dragging a human girl off the
street brings nothing but trouble. I had to end Marc for taking her, and I’ll
fucking end Rag too if he can’t control himself.” Vic shook his head at their
recklessness, as if his strength made him a reasonable monster.

No one was silly enough to comment.

“Humans are too damn fragile. Hell I only fucked her once.”
Vic cupped his junk fondly before dipping his head toward Tess. “Move your wide
ass and take care of the girl.”

Tess moved slowly, still braced against the wall. She wiped
the blood from her face with the back of her hand and looked a question at Bro.

“You heard the boss.”

She hurried up the stairs.

“You got it from here?” Vic asked Bro in a tone so cold Ivy
wanted to shiver.

“Yes, sir.”

Vic cuffed Rank’s shoulder. “Looks like we need to hunt
again tonight. No humans—they don’t last, and they’re a fuck-ton of trouble.
We’ll have to move tomorrow.”

“I’m in.” Sly trailed the other two beasts.

Rag started to slink past. Bro banded the other male’s neck
with a massive hand. “Not so fast. You’re taking first watch. Shift.”

Ivy tried not to look, but she couldn’t help staring at the
reenactment of her worst nightmare.

The male shimmered like summer heat waves coming off
pavement while his body rearranged. His nose elongated and widened. His eyes
glowed amber and moved farther back and apart while his mouth and chin jutted
forward. Red fur sprouted everywhere. Finally a wolflike beast, bigger than any
wolf she’d ever seen, hung by his scruff from Bro’s fist.

That is what they
truly are—slavering beasts. No matter what Kat and Tess think, we aren’t like
them. They stink of rotting flesh, and I’ve had every one of those hellhounds
inside me
. She swallowed the acrid bile threatening to choke her.

Bro dropped him. “I’ll have Dud relieve you this afternoon.”

Rag pawed the door, tail tucked between his haunches.

At a nod from Bro, Kat let out the beast.

“Upstairs, you two. Let’s see what kind of mess the stupid
little bastard made.” Bro prodded Ivy, shoving her into Kat, but not hard
enough to hurt either of them.

They climbed.

Only one upstairs room still had a door. The others had
damaged frames where doors had once hung. The monsters liked to share. The teen
lay too still and bleeding on a thin mattress. The pretty teenager with the
glazed, frightened eyes who’d been hauled into the house of horrors last night
was barely recognizable. Her arms were bruised and scratched. Her knuckles were
scraped. Both eyes were swollen shut and her lips split and puffy. Violent red
splotches covered most of her body along with bruises turning ugly shades.

Kneeling beside the girl, Tess crooned, tears streaming down
her soft cheeks. She met Bro’s eyes with angry fire. “She’s a child.”

“Not for long.” Bro ignored Tess’s outburst and waved Kat
forward. “Help Tess move her to your room.”

The girl whimpered when the two captives pulled her upright.
She soon lost consciousness and went lax between them.

“She needs a hospital.” The words blurted from Ivy’s mouth
too impulsively, but she refused to regret the truth.

Bro shimmered, his face elongating into a snout, and his
teeth growing longer and sharper. He stopped the transformation, holding a half-shifted
form that scared her more than his beast.

She froze.

He nipped her upper arm, puncturing her skin but not tearing
out a chunk of flesh. The wound stung like salt poured on a deep cut and began
to throb.

“Stay out of it, or you’ll end up the same way.” His voice
was so harsh she barely caught his words, but she understood the gist. Arguing,
criticizing, or even questioning brought retribution.

Despite her rage, she hung her head in mute agreement and
let herself be herded into the room she shared with the other captives.

The bite continued to smart, making her eyes water and her
arm ache. The nip from his fangs had been a minor correction made without anger
or malice. He could’ve just as easily ripped off her limb. Not even her fear of
him doused her anger at the teen’s brutal treatment. What kind of monsters
abused a child? But the oozing bite on her biceps served Bro’s purpose. She
remembered he had all the power and she had none.

A few weeks and four houses ago, the three women had begun
planning. The beasts moved at least once a week, always drugging the captives
first. The monsters slept most of the day, leaving one male on guard. One
against one was as good as their chances would ever get. So far the beasts
stayed with their routine of locking the women in every morning. The current
room held a few scraps of material and a lumpy, stained queen-size mattress
with a faint mousy odor—nothing close to a weapon or a tool. They pinned their
fragile hopes on good timing and the right sentry’s boredom.

Once in a while the day’s guard would pull one of them from
the locked room for games that were no fun, unless you were the monster.

Hard as it was to be patient, the only way to win against
the beasts was to bide her time and wait for an opportunity to escape.