Chapter 191

Helen’s POV

Martin walked over, placing a hand on Julianne's head. He muttered something, and my guts twisted. When she woke up, this was going to be horrible. She and Peter were so happy together. They were newlyweds.

What would Peter do if he discovered that she was going to end up in love with another man? Would she ever go back to Peter? Would she ever want him properly again? Or were they doomed in some tragic relationship where their wolves were bonded, but her head and heart were turned elsewhere by magic?

Martin kept his hand on her head and continued to mutter while sprinkling herbs over the top of her. Julianne's eyes glazed over for a moment before locking on to the Huntsman. She drew in a gasp, her cheeks flushing into a blush that spread all the way down her neck and into the little bit of her chest that showed above the neck of her shirt. It was the flush of lust.

She gave a whimper, reaching for the Huntsman, and he slapped her hand away.

“Perfect,” he said. “Martin, take her away.”

“No!” She screamed. Julianne clawed the sofa, trying to get at the Huntsman. “I love you. Please keep me with you. I can't bear to be apart from you.”

The Huntsman looked at her with ice in his gaze. “Well, I don't love you this.” He put his hand on my leg. “Helen is my wife. She will be my bride.”

“You bitch!” Julianne screamed at me, trying to claw out my eyes and hair. “You've taken my love from me.”

“Lock her up, Martin,” the Huntsman ordered. “Get her out of here and leave her in that state. I want her pining over me. I want her hating Helen.”

All the way down whatever hallway Martin dragged her into, I could hear her screams echoing back at us. The whole while, she begged to be with the Huntsman, declaring her undying love for him.

I knew my time was limited. I had to try and get away.

As if suspecting this, he sat on the sofa beside me, draping both legs over the top of my lap and holding my arm, hooked through his own, elbow to elbow. I couldn't move anywhere. He had pinned me down.

“Just wait your turn, my dear. But remember, your torture isn't going to be so brutal on you. Once Martin has his way and works his spell, you'll fall deeply in love with me. And I'm going to be keeping you because if I didn't, what would be the joy in that?”

“I hate you,” I spat at him. “No amount of magic will ever cover that.”

“We’ve been working for a full month on this because I believe that it will cover your hate as you saw with your friend. Doesn't she have a new husband?”

He cocked his head, looking at me, even though I could tell he already knew the answer.

“That's right. She does. A young werewolf named Peter who serves your husband.”

This chilled me in a new way because he was getting intelligence from somewhere inside our pack, which meant that he knew far more than I was comfortable with. Hopefully, he didn't know about our plan for the end of the week. Otherwise, we might never get another shot at destroying this demon.

I'm not sure whether it was a good thing or a bad thing for my nerves, but it didn't take Martin very long to return from locking poor Julianne up. I didn't know where they'd taken her, but focusing on her problem instead of my own was preferable.

It didn't matter how I squirmed. The Huntsman had me pinned in such a way that I couldn't escape. And every time I tried to lunge at him and bite or claw my way free with my free hand, he'd simply swat it back or push me away with his free hand. We were at a stalemate.

I tried several times to call up Joy, but whatever he had used to bind my hands and feet also bound my connection to her. The ropes must have been laced with whatever drug he gave me once upon a time that kept me from accessing my wolf. He was quickly learning all of the ins and outs of keeping a werewolf completely helpless, and I was no exception.

When Martin returned, he walked straight over to me, placing his hand on my head, and began to mutter the same strange words that he had muttered over Julianne.

The first thing I felt was my will to fight disappear. It drained out of me like pus draining from a wound, leaving behind nothing but soft contentment. I couldn't draw up my hatred for the Huntsman no matter how hard I tried, even though he was still hurting me and manipulating me.

I knew these facts. They were still in my head. But somehow, whatever Martin was chanting had severed the connection between my thoughts and my emotions. He was in full control of how I was feeling, and that was exactly what the Huntsman had said he was going to do.

I knew I ought to be frightened of a wizard who had that sort of power. Nobody should have the power to completely wash away someone's connections to their own feelings. Someday I would have to try and figure out what it was that the Huntsman and Juden had offered this wizard to turn on other types of supernatural beings. What price did a demon have to pay to get you to sell your soul?

After the disconnect, I felt another shift. This one came in the form of warmth. The heat spread through my body, and a magnetic pull toward the Huntsman set in. The same as before, I knew this ought to bother me, and yet I couldn't find the will to feel bothered.

The Huntsman's grip on me softened, and he leaned toward my ear. “How are you feeling, my dear little wolf?” he crooned.

I sighed and leaned toward him, resting my cheek against his. “I feel relaxed,” I admitted.

“Perfect.”

He switched his grip so that his arms draped across my shoulder, his hand hanging down the front of my chest. His fingertips ever so lightly brushed across the tip of my breast, and suddenly I realized how badly I wanted to be touched by the Huntsman.

I arched my back and pressed my breast into his hand. With a laugh, he opened his palm and cupped the whole thing, squeezing gently.

“There, isn't that better?” he asked. “You and I will both enjoy this. And I don't have to sacrifice any of my goals.”

And what goals were those? I mused silently to myself, reveling in the slow, gentle touches he was putting on my breast. For the life of me, I couldn't remember what this man wanted to do. But I knew what I wanted.

I wanted him to continue to touch me. I wanted him to pull my shirt up and pull my bra down and do the same thing with his hand, only across my bare skin. I wanted him to focus his attention on me, to strip me down, and bury himself inside me until I screamed.

Only after we had joined could I be satisfied. But being anywhere in his presence, even with his hand outside my clothing, was better than being apart from him. So I didn't dare complain in case he decided that I was too much of a bother and sent me away.

I couldn't stand to be apart from him. My love for him clawed at my insides, leaving me feeling empty in a way that I knew only his filling me up could solve.

“I think that's good,” the Huntsman told somebody.

Oh. That's right. Martin. Was he still there? He didn't matter, not in the slightest. The only star in my sky was the Huntsman.