Wolf's Capture (10 page)

“Is it? How can you tell in this blasted dark?” Did he have some special wolfy sense that let him track the rise and fall of the sun? No, that was vampires according to the books she’d read.

“It’s easy to figure out. We’re both awake, and I can hear footsteps upstairs and the toilet has been flushing.”

Good clues. She’d appreciate them even better once she moved away from his distracting skin. Surely it wasn’t normal to want to kiss it and lick it.

Her attempt to slide away saw him tightening the arms he’d strung around her.

“Where do you think you are going, Bait?”

Away from you.
Before she did something embarrassing like ask him to finish what they began the previous eve. To hide her first thought, she went on the attack. “Why must you keep calling me Bait?”

“Because that’s what you are. Bait dangled to snare a wolf.”

“Not by choice.”

“Says you.”

“Yes, says me. So find another nickname.”

“Fine then,
sweetheart.
” Funny how he could make a term of endearment sound so snarky.

Before she could comment on his maturity level, without warning, the lights flicked on and the speaker crackled to life. “How nice. My pet and her stud in bed together. I take it the deed was less onerous than expected.”

Layla frowned at the camera and shook her head negatively, knowing the microphone wouldn’t catch her words since she’d gotten her spidery friend to gum it the day before. “We didn’t do anything.” For some reason it seemed important to clarify this out loud. Maybe then it would make her more resistant.

It seemed master either read her lips or determined her intent. “Didn’t do anything yet,” corrected the robotic voice. “I have a feeling, though, it won’t be long.”

“He might be right,” Brody whispered in her ear, sending a delicious shiver down her spine.

“No, he’s not,” she snapped, hoping she wasn’t making a total liar of herself because, honestly, Brody upset her equilibrium on so many levels.

Wrestling free of the blankets, and managing to touch way more of Brody than she wanted, Layla got to her feet and stomped over to the sink to wash the sleep from her face. And, yes, pee as well, because nothing doused the libido like knowing a cute guy could hear her tinkling.

The blankets of the bed rustled as she stared at her toes while sitting on the cold plastic seat. At least her gown allowed her some measure of privacy. Not much. But she’d take it.

Done, she flushed and kept her gaze averted from him, not easy once she realized he was under the covers and, judging by the jeans on the floor, still naked.

“Are you coming back to bed?” he drawled as he patted the spot beside him. His eyes flashed as wickedly as the smile he shot her.

“No, thank you.”

“Aw, why not? Bring one of those romance smut books with you. Maybe it will give you ideas.” He waggled his brows.

“If this is your idea of seduction, forget it. That is not attractive.” Actually, it was but, given his playful demeanor and the space between them, easy to rebuff.

“Just being friendly.”

“You can keep your friendly. I don’t trust you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, sweetheart, but we’re stuck here together, so we need to learn to make the best of it.”

Their conversation got interrupted as the door leading to the basement opened. Feet came tromping down the stairs, a full half-dozen men, which probably didn’t bode well.

Field trip.

Naked or not, Brody bounded from the bed and took a stance in front of her. Did he think he could protect her? With what? His superbly tight butt? Maybe Johnson would rise to the occasion and smite the guards.

She bit her lip lest she giggle and averted her gaze, but it kept creeping back, fascinated not just by the perfection of the tight glutes but the tattoo emblazoned across one cheek.

What kind of man gets a pink bunny inked on his body?

“On your knees, hands behind your back,” barked one of them.

“Make me,” Brody dared, and she sighed.

Here we go.

The electrical zap in her collar hit her in a rush of pain, but she gritted her teeth and bore it. She knew the drill. She drew her hands together behind her and got on her knees, leaning forward. Some things weren’t worth fighting.

Poor Brody, he never had a chance to comply. They buzzed his collar, and he hit the ground—
thud
—twitching. It seemed Mr. Tough Guy would need more practice before he could handle the shock. Only repeated sessions truly made a person resistant, and as soon as you were, they increased the jolt level.

Once shackled, she spared a look at Brody, only to gasp. The guards hadn’t given him time to put some pants on before they zapped him. And it wasn’t his bare butt facing her anymore. She caught a glimpse of corded thighs, springy dark hair at the vee and…
Oh my.
She looked away, not quick enough, though, to stop the blush.

The guards didn’t seem to care about his nudity. They dragged his limp body, a man under each arm, from the cell. Layla moved on her own two feet. Again, she knew the routine. Given the number of guards and the precautions, she had an inkling of where they were going.

The master wanted to see them.

The men were not kind as they dragged her cellmate up the steps, banging him off every tread. Poor Brody’s shins would bear bruises for as long as it took to heal them. She didn’t dare say anything. If the master for one moment suspected she cared—
No, I don’t—
for the wolf, he’d probably do something vile.

The living room, where her captor enjoyed holding court, hadn’t changed much from previous meetings. Simply decorated and furnished, as simple as the rest of the house.

The walls were plaster, but old plaster, the kind slathered on and not so smooth, covered in peeling wallpaper, which in some spots revealed another layer of wallpaper beneath, faded orange and brown, splotchy flowers.

The wide-plank pine floors creaked as she walked on them, the varnish on their surface long gone, but the grime of feet sponged into the surface giving them a gritty texture.

The furnishings, given their ugliness, probably had never enjoyed better days. Orange, yellow, and green flowered cushions provided seating on one sofa, while brown corduroy, worn bare in some spots, covered matching club chairs.

They were familiar chairs. She’d sat in the left one many a time listening to the master’s ranting and threats. To be contrary, she sat in the right-hand one, arms still manacled behind her back. The guards dumped Brody’s still unconscious carcass in her usual seat, but he merited extra special treatment. A chain was brought forth, rattling as they locked it onto his handcuffs then attached it to a ring in the floor making sure Brody wouldn’t get far if he attempted anything.

“Welcome, pet. You seem in high form this morn.”

“If you mean plotting your demise, then yes. Yes, I am doing great.” She spoke with a smile, hoping it aggravated him. Hard to tell though, given she couldn’t read the master’s expression.

Perched dead center on the couch, he wore his customary black hood, not even the color of his eyes visible through the thick cloth. How did he breathe? Eat? Surely he took the covering off sometime?

Why does he hide?
A question she’d often wondered but never had answered.

“Plot as much as you like, pet. You will never escape me.” The machine-induced voice came from a spot around master’s neck. She’d often wondered at the reason behind the modulated speech. Had he suffered some kind of injury that made it hard for him to speak?

“We’ll see about that,” she muttered.

“Your optimism after so many failures is fascinating. When will you admit defeat? When will you finally stop fighting and accept your fate, pet?”

“The day I stop fighting is the day I die.”

“Death? How melodramatic, pet. Especially since I’ve now given you a cellmate. A lover to keep you company.”

“Not happening.”

“Think what you will, pet, although, it might help if he were less fragile. I see our new guest isn’t faring well.”

“A thousand volts will do that to a person,” she replied dryly.

“And he’ll get more if he doesn’t do as he’s told and bed you. Still, though, I expected a little more strength from him.”

“Keep zapping him. I’m sure he’ll eventually get used to it like I did. He might not prove the handy tool you hoped, though.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She rolled her eyes. “You can’t seriously think electrocuting him will aid your task.”

“He’s a Lycan. They heal quickly.”

“He does, but…” Layla might lack experience in some respects, but it was amazing what one could learn in a book, even seemingly harmless romance ones. “Even if he does heal fast, what do you think all that electricity is doing to his, you know,” she lowered her voice, “
stuff?
”

Not a wrinkle marred the surface of the fabric covering master’s face, but Layla imagined he frowned.

“Does your concern over his ability to perform mean you’re willing to obey?”

“No. I won’t have sex with him.” For at least a few hours until the lights turned out and he crawled in to bed with her. Then…who knew what would happen?

She really needed to execute a plan of escape before she found out.

“Defiance gains you nothing.”

“But it irritates you. So, if you ask me, that’s kind of a win.”

“Insolent creature.”

“Insolent. Disrespectful. Bitchy. Call me all the names you want, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to play the part of whore.”

The master moved fast. The sudden slap rocked her, but it was the snarled, “Don’t touch her,” that surprised her.

A certain wolf had woken, and he didn’t seem pleased at all.

“It’s awake.” Even without a facial expression, one could hear the sneer in master’s tone.

“Awake and irritable. Not a good combination. So I wouldn’t push it if I were you.”

“Threats? Yet you are in no position to make demands.”

“That’s what you think.”

Layla could almost applaud his belligerence. But, while she knew from experience the master would never go so far as to permanently damage her, the same could not be said of Brody. As far as she knew, he was expendable when it came to the master’s plans.

“I see we’ve yet to break your spirit. Excellent. I’d hate to think I chose wrong when selecting the man who will father babes on my pet.”

“I won’t do it.”

“Then I’ll find another,” the master said, his robotic voice not giving any inflection, the monotone of it making it sound so much colder.

“There will be no others.”

Layla almost shivered at the firm certainty in Brody’s voice. A more fanciful girl would have romanticized it and called it possessive. But Layla was grounded in reality. More than likely, Brody would attempt to kill her first before letting master create an army of minions with her special brand of power.

“Again with the threats.” The master shook his hooded head. “I will do whatever I like with my pet, and there is nothing you can do about it, wolf.”

“Why are you doing this? Why keep her a prisoner? She’s just a young girl. She doesn’t deserve this kind of life.”

“What’s this? Are you concerned about the girl, dog? Then perhaps you should try harder to convince her to spread her legs. The sooner she is breeding, the faster she protects herself from the coming punishment I’ve got planned if she refuses to obey.”

“She’s not the only one unwilling.”

“So I hear.” The cloak figure leaned forward and placed himself close to Brody, close enough the wolf couldn’t help but rumble. His body shook, restrained by the shackles that held him in place. “You will do as you’re told, wolf, or else. I only have one use for you. Or at least a use for a certain part of your body. How much pride do you think you’ll retain if I remove that crucial part your anatomy?”

Even Layla had to wince.

Poor Brody. The threat froze him. Only his nostrils flared as he breathed deeply in and out, a man fighting his wolf and his inclination to protect himself from a threat.

“No comeback, dog? No threats?”

“Just thinking of the best way to kill you,” Brody bravely blustered.

The mechanical laugh from the master sent a shiver down her spine. “Think about it, but not too long, my pets. Already my patience wears thin and you don’t want to see what happens when it snaps.”

The interview was over. The master rose, his dark robe hiding his true shape and identity. With that awful glide, the master slithered from the room and left her alone for the moment with Brody.

“He’s a pleasant dude,” Brody remarked.

“A ray of sunshine,” she muttered. “One you did your best to piss off.”

“I can’t stand pompous asses.”

“Gee, I couldn’t tell.”

“Ah, come on, Bait, admit it, that was kind of fun.”

“Don’t call me bait. And no, it wasn’t fun. You’re new here. I don’t think you grasp just how sadistic master can get.”

“Oh, I can imagine. I’ve dealt with his sort before.”

“So you’re just an idiot with a death wish then.”

“Nah, just an idiot with huge balls of steel. Wanna see?”

“No!”

He chuckled. “Let me know if you change your mind. Now that we’ve had the
talk
with the asshole in charge of this place, what’s next on the agenda?”

“We wait until the guards come to take us back.”

“Pretty trusting, leaving us here all by our lonesome.”

“Not really. There’s nowhere for us to go.”

“Such pessimism.”

“I call it realism.” Also known as experience. She had numerous failed escapes from this room to attest to the futility.

But Brody was a man. Stubbornness was in his genes. “Mind telling me where the front door is?”

“Why do you need to know?” she asked.

“You’ll see.”

She glanced at him to find him smiling. “You find our situation amusing?”

“More like interesting.”

“How do you figure that?”

“For one thing, we’re out of the cage.”

“Yet handcuffed and you’re chained to a floor bolt. I fail to see the improvement.”

“Again with the Negative Nelly attitude. You’ll never succeed in escaping if you don’t try. Now, I’m asking again, before Jackass and his friends show up, where’s the front door?”