Chapter 153
“I have some questions for you, Misha,” Marian stated slowly.
The caged wolf visibly shivered.
“Are you cold?” Marian asked, more abruptly and with far more concern than she intended.
Misha smiled coyly.
“These sheets of yours are made for ordinary wolves,” he remarked casually, shrugging. The blanket slipped further, and Marian felt her pulse quicken.
It wasn’t pheromones. Not even in the slightest.
Somehow, that fact made things worse.
I need to get out of here, Marian mused.
Misha’s eyes narrowed.
Then, he adjusted the blanket, raising it over his bent shoulder.
“You are injured?” Marian asked inquiringly, again, too concernedly for her conscience to let slide.
“Are these the questions, my princess?”
“How did you know who I was?” she pressed, suddenly remembering the question she had forgotten earlier.
“Which other she-wolf would come down here, alone, and injure my men without uttering a word? My princess,” Misha tossed back lightly.
“Marian. My name is Marian,” Marian replied encouragingly, almost as if she needed him to know it.
“Are these the questions, my princess Marian?” he crooned.
Marian choked back a giggle.
A giggle. Not a laugh.
Goddess, what is this creature?! Marian cursed in her mind, chiding herself for being so lax with an enemy, caged or not.
She fought down her levity, suddenly remembering how his father had gotten skilled fighters to relax in battle, killing one of them for their error.
This was the son of such an alpha.
She could not lose her focus.
“Your father used something on my wolf during the fight. What was it?” she asked in a low voice, becoming as serious as Misha had been a moment ago.
“How would I know?” Misha whispered back, quizzically.
“You’re his son, right? His heir? He should tell you something so important, no?” she pressed, keeping her voice low.
“That’s a lot of questions, my princess Marian, I’m not sure which to answer first!” Misha tossed back casually.
Marian smiled.
Misha’s breath caught.
Both wolves glanced away.
Misha cleared his throat.
“I can answer your questions if you bring me that other wolf,” he stated cryptically.
Marian turned back to him, an eyebrow raised, her face clouding over.
“What wolf?” she growled, not knowing why she suddenly felt a different type of heat behind her ears.
There’s another wolf he wants to talk to?
Not me?
She mused distractedly as her stomach twisted ever so lightly.
Misha stepped back from the gate. He eyed Marian lazily, then shrugged slightly.
“The one with the grey eyes,” he replied casually.
Marian burst through the locked cell, grabbing Misha by the throat.
She slammed him against the opposite wall.
He lost his blanket.
“What?” Marian growled as Dinka’s gold eyes pushed through hers.
Had Misha been shorter, or Marian taller, she would have raised him up by the neck, but as neither was the case, she squeezed instead.
Misha grunted, gazing down at her.
He strained against her iron grip, placing a hand on hers and another on her waist.
Lightly, almost sensually, he stroked her side.
Marian glanced down.
His claws had extended.
He could have stabbed her, but he was simply caressing her, just above her kidney.
She understood.
Stupid! Marian cursed at herself.
His eyes changed earlier.
This wolf is strong.
This creature is dangerous!
Marina thought to herself.
“So are we,” Dinka growled deeply, sensing her human’s thoughts.
“We can’t kill him, D.,” Marian responded tersely, “Father, Dax, the Alpha King, any one of them would not react well when they come here and find a corpse instead of the Bloodrayne Alpha’s son!”
Dinka snarled, withdrawing.
Marian’s eyes cleared.
As her gaze moved back to Misha’s face, she caught a glimpse of what was below both their waists.
She gaped at it for far too many split seconds for either of them to consider it an accident.
She felt the heat behind her ears again, but this time it had spread to her cheeks.
Her heart was thudding against her ribs.
Her head snapped up.
“Are you kidding?” she snarled.
“I…wish…” Misha gasped.
Marian squeezed his neck tighter, baring her teeth, pushing her face toward his as she pushed her hips backward.
Marian’s eyes slid down without her consent.
Misha’s partial erection grew tauter, a straight, hefty rod rising toward her lower belly.
“If…you would…I could…put this away…” he rasped, struggling to breathe under her forceful grip.
Marian pulled away from him.
Misha quickly picked up the blanket and covered himself again, from shoulder to knee.
Marian paced as Misha controlled his reaction, taking deep breaths, his eyes closed.
What is this creature?! Marian mused.
Five Lightmoon guards were already outside, their eyes black as their wolves stood at the edge of their skin.
As Lightmoon members, they could achieve a partial shift, as long as they held the required tool. Prisoners could not, but as Marian had come to witness, should not, unless they were Misha Drakin, and possibly, Bloodrayne wolves in general.
The Bloodrayne prisoners were all bellowing insults and sounds of indignation at whatever was happening to their Successor.
They could not see into each other’s cells.
The only opening to the cells in the dungeons was the entrance gates to each cell.
No cells faced any other. As such, the only views any prisoners had were the walls of their cage and the walls opposite their cage.
They had heard the crash of Misha’s bars, the thump as someone hit the wall – they all knew the sound of flesh on stone – and the grunting.
They could guess something had gone wrong.
After a moment, Misha growled.
It was a deep, resonating sound.
All his friends fell quiet, returning to their sullen silence.
Misha, standing on the opposite side of the cell from where Marian had strangled him for a moment, head bent as he adjusted his covering, cleared his throat.
Eyes averted, he spoke softly.
“My princess, is he yours? The grey-eyed wolf?” he asked, almost hesitantly, almost apologetically.
“What…what do you mean?” Marian stammered, taken aback by his tone and by the word ‘wolf’, stumbling on her words.
“The Gamma. Is he yours?” Misha asked, turning back to her.
Marian’s eyes widened. She flushed, turning away from Misha again.
“Oh! That’s sad,” he mumbled.
The five guards were still outside. Marian did not need any stupid reports making the rounds.
She spun back to Misha.
“I am the one asking the questions, Misha,” she snapped.
The tall, sensuous wolf nodded quietly, his blue eyes distant.
He looks…sad…
About Jackson?
Marian stared at the wolf again.
“What do you want with my packmate?” she asked firmly, keeping her distance from the distracting wolf whose sudden withdrawal was pricking her mind in a very odd way.
She had picked her wording deliberately.
“Mate? He IS yours?” Misha replied hotly, turning his blue eyes on her, his mouth almost a straight line.
“What do you want with him, Misha?” Marian prodded, her eyes watching his every move.
“Nothing sinister, I assure you,” Misha cooed, his hot reaction cooling instantly, “just bring him, let him ask the questions. I will answer anything he wants.” Misha pressed softly, pheromones leaking from him again.
Pine, musk, and lightning.