Chapter 80

Olivera

Wolfsbane infused sugar in tea is the easiest way to deter a stubborn captive. I wanted to save it for the last minute, just so she wouldn't use her mind-link any further with her mate while we found our way into the pack house. It's a cavernous dwelling, on the edge of a daunting cliff, only accessible through a short, tunneling area under the heavy brush of the forest.

I packed a small batch of tea, something I normally sip on to blossom a tolerance to the plant, but instead I decided it was better used on the frustrating Luna, fighting me every step of the way and trembling in doing so. I've never seen such a petrified and yet stubborn woman in my entire life. Granted, most of the women I come across are extremely willing to be led away by the likes of me, but a captive and a courtesan are two different things.

She is restless in her sleep, her face permanently pink as she grumbles against the toxins I forced down her throat a few hours ago. This pack house is new, more-so for defensive purposes, and it doesn't have room for a barracks.

Instead, I took full responsibility for this spiteful Luna and placed her in my very own bed, her scent staining the sheets quickly as she dries from the rain in new clothes, a small set of blue shorts left behind from someone; I'm not sure who exactly, and a tight top that rides just over the sight of her bellybutton. Her scent is enticing, her outer splendor distracting.

She toys with the chains over her wrist in her dreams, fighting the metal cuffs and whimpering as she tries to force herself awake. She isn't very strong, despite her attitude earlier in the woods, physically forcing me to drag her in order to outrun her posse. She has the tenacity, though, and the willingness to piss me off; I may end up enjoying having to deal with this Luna.

"Alpha Olivera," my beta says, barging in from the hall where the warriors have been coming and going from the topside, running paths over and over in the forest above to cover our tracks by making the trail murky in traffic. "We've got word from scouts, the elders are staying with the Luna's pack, holding down the palace while her mate is out hunting with his warriors."

I cock a brow, surprised the elders are willing to partake in this battle so selflessly and yet slaughter my kind of wolves for simply refusing to bow to a typical Alpha or Luna. I never wanted to be an Alpha, and this pack is extremely temporary, but I refuse to allow the stigma of free roaming wolves to be slaughtered for existing, especially by the pompous likes of the board, and all who associate with them.

The Luna is awake, staring straight at me, and I clench my fist in hate.

"Order the warriors and scouts to mark false trails headed east, off the cliffs, and to wait out as the opposing pack crosses over us without a second glance," I say, watching the Luna the entire time, studying her reaction, so lagged and poisoned by the drug in her bloodstream.

Beta Finley nods, exiting the room, and I slam the door shut behind his hasty leave. The Luna squabbles in place, shifting her blistered wrists around the cuffs that pin her upright against the headboard of my bed. She glances around her new clothes, her new surroundings, the window outside my room nothing but empty space of the sunrise, the downfall below at least a four-minute fall into deeper woods where the cliff of my packhouse sits unsuspecting.

"Where—Where—"

"Nowhere you would know, sweetheart," I purr, watching my words alone cross her body in a spasmic shiver. "Let's skip the formality. Do me a favor, sweetheart; tell me about the time you visited the moon goddess."

She inhales sharply, her eyes faraway in thought. "You took me to ask that?"

"I took you because you will be useful to me, blood pet, and I want to know just how to utilize that to benefit my rogues."

"You will die," she grates through a locked jaw. "Ryan will—he will find me and kill—"

She slumps sideways, breathless, the wolf in her blood trying to hold on to what is left but she is deteriorating by the minute. Her body is weak, useless to herself right now, and the wolfsbane is obviously working just fine as she grows tired after only being conscious a few fleeting seconds.

"I am Alpha Olivera," I say, dominating in tone. "I am the Alpha of rogues, a title I do not enjoy but one I am respected by for the mere purpose of dismantling the board of elders. I do not appreciate the likeness of your kind killing off rogues because they refuse to file in line when Alpha's and Luna's demand them to do so."

She gives me a puzzled look. "Ryan… my mate, he doesn't kill rogues…"

"He associates with the board, that is all the connection I need," I growl. "The elders are at your precious palace now, overseeing your pack while your mate is scouting the woods and you think that doesn't implicate you as one of them?"

"Why do you want me, dammit?" She pleads, cold tears rushing down her flushed face, "I will not give you my blood, I will not fight the elders and I do not want to talk about when I was killed and sent to the moon goddess! I just want my mate!"

I shake my head, watching her grow tired as she exasperates herself in anger. "You're not in control here anymore, sweetheart. I am. And if you don't understand that now, you will soon."

She finally gives into her ongoing tire, falling sideways and passing out under the heavy dose of the wolfsbane still swirling through her bloodstream. Her blood may be perfect by nature but it heals quickly, it is strong. I will have to continue to feed it to her so I remain in control.

I don't mind watching her drift asleep. She whimpers and moans for her mate.

Alyson

It's too hard to focus. Whatever is in my bloodstream, it wants me to stay asleep, and it taste like I'm liking metal blades and the iron sensation lingers on my tongue. At least I have my mind in this dark abyss, my memories straightening my nerves out to mere concerns while I drift in and out of the sight of my mate, my Alpha, Ryan.

He is holding me in my sleep, his precious lips nibbling on my throat, near the mark he made when we were finally mated and bonded together. I remember the day, the ceremony, and every moment that led to my unlikely second life. I try to ignore the first chance I had, the rejection of a mate and the betrayal of a sister. Instead I look to Ryan, to the goodness of my second chance, and hope I will return to it all the same.

It shifts suddenly though, my warping mind stealing my thoughts away while I am forced to undergo the needles, the bloody abuse, and the reticule of my appearance. The scar on my face is ridden in shame, in humiliation, and I can't stand the thought of baring that mark again.

I whimper in the angst of my dreams, "No, don't hurt me, please—"

In the darkness, I hear a gravelly voice respond.

"I don't want to hurt you, sweetheart. I wouldn't harm a beauty like yours."