Freed...
I was so close, so close to being free. The wolf was out, the cage was open, and I was me. Finally.
I should've known better...
Now, I'm trapped back where I started with my vicious and vengeful uncle on a warpath. My wolf is clawing at the cage, ready to unleash the fury my uncle awakened in me.
But I can't possibly let her out, let her into this war. Not now. Not with all that I know.
My only hope is to get home, back to the pack that welcomes me, needs me, wants me. Dayne, my cold-blooded alpha, is my home, my freedom.
Can the fiery hot-blooded alpha within me find her way back?
1
TALIS
It's the smell that gives me my first clue about where I am.
That and the jute rug digging into my belly.
After opening my eyes, I wait for the haziness and the blurred vision to clear.
For several seconds I do nothing but stare at the way the sunlight dances over a single bed covered with a shabby-looking pink comforter.
At that moment, any lingering doubt I've been harboring about where I am evaporates. And then I know.
I'm home.
No. Not home.
I'm back in the Merrick pack.
Even though I'm in no hurry to move, the jute rug is making me itch like crazy, so I roll onto my back to scratch at my belly.
Only, the second I do, any need to scratch takes a backseat to someone hammering at my temples, but more urgently, my stomach roiling in a way that can only mean one thing.
I'm going to be sick.
I don't move, hoping if I lie still long enough, the need will go away, and my stomach will settle.
Please don't be sick, please don't be sick, please-
My stomach gurgles. Clamping a hand over my mouth, I scramble to my feet and sprint for the bathroom.
I make it with seconds to spare before I'm hurling my guts up. Violently. Over and over, unable to stop.
Whatever Uncle drugged me with, it's playing havoc with my stomach, and it feels like hours, days, months pass before the urge to be sick finally passes. But even then, I'm reluctant to wander too far from the bathroom.
I have a feeling I'm going to need it again. And soon.
"Ah, I see we're back in the land of the living." A voice, filled with amusement, has me peeling my face from the toilet seat and jerking around to face him.
It's a mistake.
It feels like my stomach is trying to force itself up into my throat.
I swallow.
Hard.
After wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I force myself to rise.
There's something about the glint in Uncle Glynn's eyes that makes me want to be on my feet, instead of low to the ground, trapped in the corner of the bathroom.
Before I passed out-or he drugged me-I was a wolf, but now I'm back to human. Which means I'm naked.
When Uncle Glynn lowers his gaze to my body, that's when I know I've made another mistake.
Something dark and malicious shadows his gaze, and that's not all I see in his eyes. I see something that has me wrapping my arms around myself as I take a step back.
"Still shy, I see," he says, with what appears to be-on the surface at least-genuine amusement.
I guess nothing's changed in the two weeks I've been with Dayne's pack then. Clearly, Uncle Glynn still derives as much pleasure from my embarrassment as he always has.
In the pause that follows, I get the impression he's waiting for me to say something, but since anything I say will inevitably lead to him lashing out at me, I figure the smart thing to do is to keep my mouth shut.
After a super awkward, long-drawn-out silence, Uncle Glynn grins at me, which immediately raises my suspicions.
He's up to something, but what?
"Now you're back home," he says, eyeing me closely.
This is no home. This is not my pack.
"I brought a meal up for you. In your room." He nods to the bedroom, and although I can smell a rich stew, which isn't exactly improving the tender state of my stomach, I don't look away from him.
I've learned the hard way to always keep him in my sights.
Grinning as if he knows what I'm thinking, Uncle Glynn surprises me by turning and striding away, his lean muscled form moving more smoothly than I remember.
He looks like he's carrying more muscle on his shoulders. Like he's been working out, which catches me off guard since he's never been the kind to put a lot of effort into doing anything except beating on me.
My eyes follow his blue jean and black t-shirt figure back into my room, but I don't move.
Instead, I watch as he crosses over to a tray he must have placed on my bed while I was in the bathroom, and he lifts it as if to show it off.
It's a beef stew with vegetables and some bread on the side.
While I'd ordinarily be all over it since it was one of my favorite meals, the only thing that looks good to me-and just barely-is the bread roll.
I know I should be hungry since the last time I ate was back in Dawley, which could have been days ago given it's about a day's drive, but eating is the last thing I want to be doing right now.
Or maybe never.
My stomach churns and cramps. I feel like even though I've hurled so much already, I could do with throwing up some more, whether there's anything left in my stomach or not.
"Not hungry?"
I jerk my gaze back to Uncle, kicking myself for getting distracted.
Stupid. You know what he's like. Pay attention.
Still, I don't speak.
"Well, you'd best eat something," he says, lowering the tray back to the bed. "You'll be needing to keep your strength up."
I'm not able to hide my confusion from him in time, and a sly smile stretches across his face.
"Oh, don't you know?"
Know what? What the hell is he talking about?
"That recent, huh?" He can't hide his excitement, and I brace myself.
Uncle has only ever been excited about one thing in his life. Causing me pain.
"Well, Blackshaw doesn't hang about, does he? Who'd have thought he'd have you ready to whelp inside of two weeks."
I stare at him because what he's saying isn't making sense.
I know what whelping is, of course. It's a dog or a wolf giving birth to pups. It's what we refer to as a shifter being pregnant.
But what I don't understand is how it relates to me since I'm not-
My mind wrenches me back into memory so hard I give myself whiplash.
I remember how determined Dayne was to talk to me, but I kept running away because I knew it could only be about my uncontrollable shifting, or about all the things Uncle Glynn did to me I didn't want him to know.
But now I remember the way he'd study me, with this strange hesitancy.
I remember us in bed that last day when he wouldn't let me up.
"There's nothing to talk about."
"Well, about that, I think you're wrong. I think there's a lot to talk about."
Then I remember the change in my scent in the bathroom, just before Dayne left me to go confront the stranger in the house.
My scent was different because I'm carrying Dayne's child.
But when did it happen? In the forest after I nearly attacked Savannah? Or on his sheepskin rug in his office? Or was it earlier than that?
"Congratulations, mother-to-be." Uncle Glynn sounds positively delighted, and I… I just feel sick.
Not because I don't want a child. I love the idea of being a mother, of having a family of my own, but because of where I am.
For whatever reason, my uncle has dragged me back to Dawley. And not only that, he's drugged or hurt Dayne to do it.
He wouldn't do that unless he wanted something from me, or he's using me as a hostage because he wants something from Dayne.
If he hasn't killed him, that is.
Which means I'm at Uncle Glynn's mercy until I can find a way to escape, or Dayne saves me.
And I'm pregnant.
Now is not a good time for me to be pregnant.
"What…" My voice comes out hoarse, and I clear it, even as I curve an arm around my stomach. "What do you want with me?"
His burst of laughter startles me, and I jerk in surprise, which only makes him laugh harder.
"Well, what's the fun of revealing all in one day? Not when there's nothing better than savoring an experience. Making it last."
He means to drag it out. He's planning on drawing out my pain and suffering until it breaks me.
He's done it before, and I can see he means to do it again. Only this time, I can't break. Not if I want to protect this thing growing inside me that can't protect itself.
"Now, relax. Eat. Familiarize yourself with your room. I'll be up to see you later."
And then he's swanning out, slamming the door shut behind him.
But I don't move. I wait, and then… there it is.
The slide of a lock outside, and the bolting of a padlock. Then the heavy tread of his steps as he makes his way down the stairs.
That's why I have the attic room. It's the only room in the house with a door solid enough to trap a wolf. And not only that, it has a nice chunky padlock to make sure I'm locked up tight at night.
It doesn't matter that it's been years since I've tried to run away, not after what Uncle did to me when he caught me. I've slept nowhere other than this boxy attic that's freezing in winter and roasting in summer.
The padlock serves two purposes, the first to keep me in. The second… is something I try never to think about.
My gaze returns to the tray of stew on my bed.
The smell tickles my nose, and I pick up the herbs and spices used to flavor it. Some I can actually put a name to with my recent experience cooking.
Rosemary. Onions. Garlic.
I swallow again. Harder this time.
In seconds the smells become so overpowering, it's all I can focus on.
Clamping a hand over my mouth, I rush to the toilet and fall to my knees.