The Werewolf’s Bride: The Pack Rules #1 (8 page)

We collapsed onto the bed, a wonderful, sticky, dirty mess.

T
HE PRISON CELL
had a full bathroom, including a stand-up shower. I don’t know how Grey managed to get new bedding and pillows to replace those ruined by the dessert disaster, but by the time I had finished scrubbing off cake, chocolate, and werewolf, he was waiting by the bed, as beautifully made as it was when we arrived.

“Alphas have minions,” he said in response to my look of astonishment. “All that sex with my beautiful wife made me ravenous. I wolfed down a plate of meat pies, but there’s plenty left for you. Eat something, Arabelle. In fact, eat everything.” He kissed me soundly on the lips and went to take his own shower. I found a pair of lacy panties and beautiful set of blue silk pajamas, which I slipped on. My hair was still damp, and I twisted it into knot on the top of my head.

As I perused the table, I noticed mini-quiches, tiny sandwiches, and meat pastries had joined the newly arranged desserts on the table. I sat down and began filling a plate, humming a lullaby my mother had sung to me when Carolyn and I were young. Funny. I hadn’t thought of “Hush, Little Baby” in a very long time. Soon, I would be a mother.

Perhaps even now, Grey’s seed was taking hold.

The thought staggered me so much that I stopped piling food onto my plate and pressed a hand against my stomach.
A baby.
I hadn’t thought much past the Choosing—and then the mating had taken up my thoughts and worries.

Not so worried now, though.

I felt as if I was coming into my own, finding my place within Grey’s life, within the pack’s life.

All I to do was get cleared of a murder charge.

Well, hello reality.

THUD!

Startled, I turned and stared at the bathroom door. Water rushed from underneath. What on earth? I slipped out of the chair. “Grey? Are you all right?” I couldn’t avoid stepping into the burbling water as I swung open the door.

Grey lay against the stone floor, wet and naked. The simple shower had only a thin plastic curtain, one that ripped apart as Grey had fallen through it. The shower water going at full blast was drowning the whole room.

My heart climbed into my throat.

“Grey? Grey!”

Maneuvering past his prone form, I turned off the water lest my mate drown. It took some effort, but I managed to roll him over. He was breathing, his heartbeat strong. He had cut on his forehead from where he’d fallen.

My nursing training, what little I had, would not get me far when dealing with werewolf anatomy. I needed help.

Mac had mentioned two-way radios. I rushed into the main room, scanning every surface for the walkie-talkie.

Then I heard a key rattling in the door lock and it swung open. Mac stood there, smiling.

“Thank goodness!” I cried. “Something’s wrong with Grey!”

“I’m afraid the only thing wrong with Grey is
you
.” He strode forward. The menace in his expression had me shrinking away. But there was nowhere to run.

“You really should’ve eaten the meat pies,” he said. “Passing out from being drugged would’ve been easier for you.”

He cocked back his fist, and before I could move or scream…he punched me.

My head snapped back.

Pain radiated, exploded.

Then the world went dark.

I
AWOKE
IN
a small dark space, where I bounced and rolled like loose change in someone’s pocket. My mouth was covered with what I could only assume was duct tape.
God almighty!
My jaw hurt something fierce, and that pain radiated up my temple, wrapping around my head like a steel-spiked vise. It took me a few solid moments of concentrating to realize I was in the trunk of a car—a car going very, very fast.

Ropes bound my ankles together and my arms behind me, adding more misery to my pain-wracked body. With the tips of my fingers, I felt worn, ratty padding beneath me. It smelled musty, the kind of stale air that suggested disuse. The rectangular rear lights offered the dimmest red shine, but even so, I could make out very little. Still, it wasn’t difficult to surmise I was in an older car, one that didn’t have an emergency trunk release. Not that I could pull one—or kick out a tail light given the way I was trussed up.

Fear fluttered like the wings of crows, beating, beating against my skin, tripping my heart, compressing my chest.

I shuddered.

How long had I been unconscious?

I had no way of knowing. Giving the numbness of my extremities, I figured it had been a while. I stretched my fingers and toes, but the movement was minimal and proved I wouldn’t be able to wiggle out of my bonds.

Why would Grey’s beta kidnap me?

He’d been furious.
The only thing wrong with Grey is you.

What did that mean?

My heart raced as I began to understand the complexities of my situation. Mac had drugged Grey, the Shadow Pack’s alpha, and taken me. What on earth for? What did he hope to accomplish? I was already on the hook for murder. Had that been his doing, too? Had he and Neela plotted together? As much as Grey’s former lover loathed me, I was quite sure she would heartily approve of any scheme that got me out of the way.

That terrible thought brought me to my final, awful conclusion. My life was forfeit. Whatever game was being played, whatever Mac hoped to gain, I was obviously an obstacle to be removed. I had no doubts that my death was imminent.

Panic made me break out in a cold sweat. I panted, unable to draw solid breaths into my beleaguered lungs. My heart pounded so hard, I thought it capable of bursting out of my chest. At least then I would be dead, and this wretchedness would be done.

Stop it, Belle!

I shut my eyes tightly and sucked in long, deep breaths.
Calm.
I had to be calm. I had to focus. I had to think.

Inhale.

Exhale.

My heart rate slowed, and the cold sweat dried. I thought only of my breathing, only of inviting tranquility into my body.
Steady, Belle. Steady.

As I got my fear under control, I pondered how I’d ended up cold-cocked, tied up, and imprisoned in a car trunk.

What threat could I possibly pose to Mac? At least I understood Neela’s jealousy and hurt—Grey’s rejection damaged her heart and her pride. It made sense she would point her rage at me. I’d only met Mac for five minutes, and yet, he hated me. Or would he have hated any woman that married Grey?

Grey.
Was he all right? Had he discovered I was gone? Though we were only just bonded, I believed he would do everything within his power to find me, to rescue me. But I couldn’t pin my hopes to his alpha prowess. I had to rely on myself. I couldn’t be sure how long Grey would be unconscious, if Mac would be there to feed him lies when he awoke, or if Mac had abandoned the pack entirely.

If Mac had wanted Grey dead, he merely had to poison the food. Instead, he’d put sedatives into the meat pies so that Grey would be incapacitated. Had I eaten my fair share, I would’ve passed out, too. Why drug Grey? Why kidnap me?
Why?
The question circled my brain like a moth fluttering around a porch light.
Why?

I had no answers, and my head ached so badly, I abandoned thinking all together. I faded in and out of consciousness as the car continued speeding toward its destination. When I felt the vehicle slow enough to make a turn, I awoke fully, and tried to concentrate. We continued at a more sedate pace, though the path we were on now seemed rife with potholes. I heard the tires crunching, too. A gravel road, maybe?
Gah!
One that was not maintained, given the number of times the wheels hit uneven patches and sent me sprawling. Luckily, I didn’t have to contend with other objects. No tools or tires or other items one might find in a car trunk. I jounced upward and back down again. Pain radiated up my spine to join the web of agony that covered my skull.
Sweet mercy!
Had anything else been in here with me, I’d sport even more bruises and scratches.

I kept wiggling my fingers and toes, though the actions did little to alleviate my poor circulation. I’d read an article once about a yogi who’d fallen off a roof and landed on his backside without sustaining a single injury. When asked how he’d managed to do such a miraculous deed, he said only that he made a conscious effort to relax every muscle in his body. Basically, he landed like a pile of spaghetti—completely loose, yielding totally, and doing so saved his life. It was the same reason drunk drivers walked away from accidents. Their alcohol-addled reflexes kept them from tensing up before a crash, while sober people braced for collision. That’s what caused injuries—constricting the muscles so tightly there was no cushion against the unforgiving force of impact.

These were the thoughts that occupied my mind. Pointless, really, but my options were to worry about what would happened to me once the car stopped—or spend useless amounts of time and energy trying to free myself. Whoever had tied my bonds had done so in a proficient manner. No amount of wiggling or twisting would release me.

The car slowed to a crawl, executed a slight turn, and then parked.

The engine turned off. I heard the squeal of doors opening, the scuffle of shoes against pavement, the low thrum of conversation.

Trying to fight my way out of the trunk—out of the clutches of werewolves—would not be productive. I needed to wait for the best opportunity to escape. I had to believe that getting out of this situation was possible. I had to believe, too, that I was strong enough to save my own life. After all, I’d defended myself against the Blood Pack scruffer who’d attacked me, and I’d lived to tell the tale.

Would I live to tell this one?

I closed my eyes, steadied my breathing, and concentrated on letting go of all my muscular tension. I focused on keeping myself as limp as an unconscious woman should be. I held on to the thought of Grey, my beautiful alpha, laughing, his muscled chest covered in cake crumbs, his eyes alight with passion. I wanted to see him again. I wanted the life—so shiny with promise and purpose—that we could have together.

I would not give in to fear.

I would not give up hope.

I heard the rattle of a key and the squeal of rusted hinges as the trunk opened. Fresh, cool air rushed inside, and so did the overpowering scents of pine and wet earth. I could feel the stares of my abductors. My skin crawled, but I kept my breathing steady, my body loose. I couldn’t offer the merest hint that I was awake, especially since I was dealing with wolf shifters, whose senses were far superior to those of humans.

“She’s still passed out. Mac must’ve given her a good one.”

“She’s pretty.”

“She was. Now, she’s wolf chow.”

“We could have some fun.”

“Dude. Do not even think about it.”

“Oh, c’mon. She’s dead anyway.”

“Stop thinking with your dick, Royce.”

“Whatever, man.”

I felt arms go underneath me. I was lifted out and carried like a napping child clutched in her father’s arms.

M
Y CAPTOR’S
GRIP
tightened as we went up a few steps. Booted heels clomped across wood then I heard the rattle of a knob, the creak of a door opening.

“That’s her?” The female’s voice was as sharp as a blade. “You’re fucking kidding me. She doesn’t look like she could take on a dandelion much less a werewolf.”

“Mac says she’s the one.”

“Yeah. Like he’s so trustworthy. Put her on the bed and untie her. What the fuck were you thinking?”

“She’s dangerous. Christ, Sara, she killed Cody.”

“I know what she did.”

My kidnapper tossed me onto a lumpy mattress that smelled like mold and then roughly rolled me onto my side. He cut the ropes from my wrists and ankles. As blessed circulation returned, my extremities tingled. The pins and needles sensations were very uncomfortable, but I resisted the urge to squirm. I continued to play unconscious, even though it meant staying face-down in the awful, smelly mattress.

“Rick will be here in a few minutes,” said the woman. “You two get back to the den and chill.”

“You think this is gonna work, Sara? I mean, we’re messing with the Shadow Pack. With Grey Burke.”

“Hey, man, it’s an eye for eye. Pack justice.”

“Shut up!” I heard quick, sure strides and the smack of flesh against flesh. I assumed Sara had slapped whichever one she’d deemed the mouthiest. “Get out of here, you fuckheads, before I gut you both.”

With that threat ringing in their ears, the men left.

I heard those confident steps approach the bed. “You can stop pretending you’re unconscious,” she said. “Those two jack asses are about as observant as drunk blind men. But trust me when I say I’m a whole different kind of animal.”

So much for being clever.
I pushed myself into a sitting position and rubbed at my wrists and ankles. “Sara,” I said, inclining my head as though we were meeting at a cocktail party rather than at my kidnapping. “I’m Arabelle Burke.”

“Everyone knows who you are.” She wore her blonde hair short and spiked on top. She had multiple piercings in her ears and eyebrows, and a silver stud on the left side of her bottom lip. She wore blood-red lipstick and thick black eyeliner. She sported snakeskin cowboy boots and faded Levis torn at the knees. She also wore a red T-shirt and a battered brown leather jacket with the collar flipped up. It seemed far too big for her. Perhaps it belonged to her father or brother or even her lover—this mysterious Rick? My attention was caught by the tattoo on her neck, some kind of yellow flower intertwined with a black snake. It seemed an odd image for a werewolf to have, but then again, she didn’t seem the type who cared about fitting in.

“Don’t get any ideas about escaping,” she said. “I’ll kill you. That’ll piss off Rick, and I don’t like being on his bad side.”

I looked around, taking in all the details I could. I figured out quickly I was in a cabin. The closet cabin rentals were in the Mount Charleston area, which was only a 45-minute drive from Las Vegas, and three-hour drive from Bleed City. “You’ll forgive me, Sara, if I’m not overly concerned about your good standing with Rick, whoever he is.”

“Hoity-toity, aren’t you?” She snarled at me. “You think because you killed a starving, weak, tortured werewolf, you can take me? I’ll claw out your throat before you open your mouth to scream.”

“Maybe you should treat your scruffers better.”

“Scruffer?” Her snarl became a growl, and her face transmogrified into half wolf—snout and fangs and eyes. “You killed our alpha’s mate, you bitch.”

“What?”

The slam of the door startled Sara out of her shifting. My heart nearly leapt out of my chest as I watched a man saunter into the cabin. He was lean and muscled, with shoulder-length dark hair and movie star good looks. His crisp buttoned-down shirt was tucked into belted slacks. He wore dress shoes, the wingtips glossed to a high shine. Everything about him screamed wealth and privilege, and yet I knew, instinctively, that of the two werewolves in this room—he was the one to fear the most.

“You gave away the twist ending, Sara,” he said in a silky voice. “Shame on you.”

“I’m sorry, Rick. She was pissing me off.”

“That, my dear sister, is your general state of being. Move away from our guest. Cody underestimated her. We will not.”

Sara gave me a final glare and a snapping growl before joining Rick in the small living area. She plopped onto the ratty couch and began picking at her nails. Rick stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, smiling like a politician. He studied me casually, as if I were no more threat than a pinned butterfly. His expression offered no indication of his thoughts. His brown gaze was as hard and shiny as obsidian. Dark. Empty. Here was a man who wouldn’t be swayed by pleas for mercy, by any human emotions, because he had none.

A frisson of fear zipped down my spine and settled coldly into the pit of my stomach.

Rick grabbed a metal folding chair from the card table set up near the tiny kitchen area. He dragged it to the end of the bed, flipped the seat around, straddled it, and leaned on the backside. “You may be wondering why you’re here.”

“Yes,” I said, trying to keep the tremors out of my voice. “I did have occasion to wonder about my unexpected visit.”

He smiled. “That’s it, Arabelle. Be brave. Fight through that fear that’s making you tremble. Tell yourself lies about how you can escape or how you might be rescued. You’ll need every bit of strength to get you through the next few hours.”

“Well, now. You sure do know how to set a girl all aflutter, Rick.”

His smile widened, and he chuckled. “Oh, I like you. I do. And I can see why Grey likes you, too. But my dear Arabelle, you killed someone very valuable to the Blood Pack. In fact, you slaughtered a man who was extremely important to our alpha—her mate, Cody.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Right. They told you that you killed a scruffer from the Blood Pack. Scruffers aren’t particularly valued in any werewolf society, and unfortunately, the Blood Pack is not exactly respected in the current hierarchy, either. What does that single life mean? Nothing.”

“But an alpha’s mate means something,” I said.

“Yes,” said Rick. “Even though the tragedy occurred to the lowliest of all werewolf packs, the murder of its alpha’s mate still matters.”

I swallowed the knot lodged in my throat. Fear burbled in every cell of my being. I had never known this kind of afraid before. Not even when that crazed werewolf had tried to eat me. “Did Grey know?”

“Now, there’s an interesting question. Did he know that he was tracking an alpha’s mate and not a scruffer? Is he protecting you, Arabelle? Or is he simply insuring his own status by mating with you? Or are you nothing but a sacrifice for the greater good?”

“His reasons are his own,” I said. “The choice is made. The deed is done.”

He studied my face. “Ah, but you are a woman. A wife. It’s your trust in him, your faith in him, that’s important. You want to know if he lied to you.”

I didn’t like Rick’s smarmy manner or the arrogance in his words. But I did wonder…had Grey known that I’d killed an alpha’s mate—and not some scruffer encroaching on Shadow Pack territory? Grey’s lack of knowledge meant he had nothing to do with this current situation. Mac had facilitated my kidnapping. He had, it seemed, turned me over to the Blood Pack as a way to placate their alpha. If that was the case, what would he tell Grey? And what did this have to do with the enforcer’s murder at the Choosing?

“I can practically see the wheels turning in that pretty little head of yours. You’re really quite astute. It’s a shame you have to pay the price for Cody’s death.”

“So, this is about revenge?”

“No, Arabelle. This is about penance.” He sighed. “I’m not usually involved in these sorts of things, but Karen—our alpha—asked for my personal touch. As her beta, her second, if you will, I’m at her behest. Cody was a friend of mine, and I feel a personal obligation to bring his killer to justice.”

“You don’t feel,” I said. “Do you, Rick?”