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“Make a move and she’s dead,” he said as he watched Lynx twitch forward. “I mean it—my Mistress says she doesn’t care if she dies as long as she transfers her position in the Sacred Seven over to her first.”
“I’ll never do that!” Mirabella spat but Saxon could smell her fear just as he could feel the anxiety Lynx was feeling for their female though their Bond. He was pretty fucking anxious himself, but he didn’t let it show.
“You hurt our female and I’ll make it my personal mission to track you down and cut you into tiny fucking pieces—slowly,” he growled.
“Nobody has to get hurt here,” Furx said. He jerked his head at the two iron chairs. “Have a seat, you two. Then we can deal.”
Saxon wanted to refuse—if he and Lynx let themselves be manacled to the chairs, they wouldn’t be able to help Mirabella. But if they didn’t sit, he thought it was probable that Furx really would cut her throat. He was every bit as ruthless as his Mistress and he had no regard for female life, like a Kindred or a Monstrum would.
“Go on—sit!” Furx ordered again as the two males flanking him waved their blasters at them. He pressed the silver blade closer to Mirabella’s throat and she gasped.
“My Lady!” Lynx cried, reaching for Mirabella.
Saxon smelled blood—the blood of the female he loved—which nearly made him go into Rage. But he knew the state of berserker fury that all Kindred and Monstrum go into when their female is threatened would only hinder his thinking—and might lead to an uncontrolled Full-Shift—something he couldn’t come back from.
“Do it!” Mirabella’s voice came out as a thin thread. “Sit down, guys—please!”
Unwillingly, Saxon took a seat in one of the black iron chairs bolted to the floor and Lynx took the other. The two muscle-heads assisting Furx came forward, blasters still in hand, and locked them up.
It was an awkward business trying to lock the manacles one-handed while holding a blaster with the other and it would have been the perfect time to escape—if Furx hadn’t still been holding the long, curving silver blade to Mirabella’s throat. The blade which was now stained red with a trickle of her precious blood.
Saxon’s mind flashed to the bed sheets Kara had lain on as she struggled to give birth, the babies coming too early, her little body swollen with her double burden. The white sheets had been red with blood—almost black with it in the end. And her cries had kept getting weaker and weaker… Was he going to have to watch another female he loved bleed and die?
Saxon swore to himself that he wouldn’t. No matter what he had to do, Mirabella wouldn’t die here today, though he had no fucking clue how he was going to save her now that he was chained to the fucking chair.
FORTY-ONE
LYNX
“Secure!” The male who was locking Lynx’s manacles said, rising.
“This one too,” reported the other, after making certain Saxon was locked in tight as well. Lynx could feel his Bond-Brother’s anguish and fury at their situation. He cast a look at his other half and sent a feeling of readiness. Saxon nodded.
As one, the two of them Shifted—a half-Shift which allowed them to tap into most of their Fur Forms’ power. Lynx felt his fur sprout all over as his ears moved to the top of his head and his face changed into the snarling muzzle of a wild lynx.
With his new strength, he strained at the manacles with all his might…only to find they still held fast. Oh, the metal creaked and groaned, but he couldn’t break it and neither could Saxon.
Lynx strained until he nearly collapsed, panting against the iron chair. Goddess-damn it, what in the Seven Frozen Hells were they going to do?
“Fuck, boss—did you see that?” The eyes of the two males on either side of Furx had grown wide.
“Sure did. Didn’t do them any good, though—did it?” Furx smirked at him and Saxon in a way that made Lynx long to rip his ugly face off with his fangs. “These chairs are solid, boys,” he added. “Made of pure titano-steel. You’re not getting out of them that easy.”
“You’ll be sorry if we do.” Saxon’s voice was a menacing growl and Lynx could see that he was still working at the manacles—though it wasn’t doing him any good.
“Oh, I’m sure I would—which is why we made sure to lock you up tight. Well, well—I’ll have to tell my Mistress how well her plan worked,” Furx said, sounding like the self-satisfied asshole he was. At least he had drawn the knife a little way from Mirabella’s neck, though Lynx could see the trickle of bright crimson on the light brown of her delicate skin.
Just the sight made him want to go into Rage but he fought it grimly—the berserker fury would cause an uncontrolled Full-Shift and he had no mate to call him back to his human form. Neither did Saxon, for that matter.
