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How unfair that she’d been lucky enough to find a second true mate, only to have any shot at happiness ripped from her grasp. With a start, she realized Nick would be the same—he would lose a second mate without having experienced what might have been.
That decided her. She would hold on as long as possible, for her brothers and the man she could love if given the chance.
Her entire body shook as they yanked her into the box of horrors and over to a steel table that had been brought in. She stood beside it, wishing with all her heart she could teleport. The iron collar was heavy around her neck, her death sentence.
“Take off your clothes,” said the cloaked figure.
She stared at him, processing the horrid words. “What? No.”
“I said strip.” The tone was more menacing. “You have no choice.”
Sniffing, she lifted her chin. “Do it yourself, coward. You’re going to kill me anyway, so I’m not doing anything you say.”
Quicker than she could blink, his hand shot out, the silver blade flashing. Using one hand, he grabbed the front of her blouse in a fist, then used the other to slice the material. It parted like butter and he roughly ripped the shirt from her body. Her bra was subjected to the same treatment.
Her throat burned with shame, humiliation. Unshed tears had never hurt so much, but she still refused to allow them freedom, even when her pants and panties followed suit. He was careless in his impatience, and the blade left some shallow slices on her skin. Dully, she noted that like the others, these weren’t healing properly.
“Ain’t she a beaut?” Rat said, then whistled between his teeth.
“Shut up,” the vampire said coldly. “Or I’ll cut out your stupid tongue.”
This wasn’t sexual, then. It was about exposing her shame to her family, and to the wolves who were their friends. To show that he was superior and wouldn’t hesitate to take what he wanted from them.
What she didn’t know was his motivation.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked softly. “How have we hurt you that you would do this to me? To my brother?”
“Get her on the table.”
The vampire was immobile as the hunters did his bidding, and didn’t answer her question. She hadn’t really believed he would, but had hoped he’d be angry enough by her asking to slip. Soon she was on her back, and the burning began.
Shoulders, arms, back, legs, calves, feet. Hot, as though she was being scalded—which was precisely the truth. “The table is silver!” she cried, pulling against her bonds. “Let me off!”
Her skin crackled as though roasting over an open flame. She barely heard the order to start the video feed. Then the blade flashed, the figure in black standing over her. The cutting began, on the soft part of her abdomen. Slices that wouldn’t hurt nearly as much had the blade not been silver. The skin parted, warmth pooling on her belly, rolling down her sides. Her thighs followed.
She writhed, struggling to control the pain, to find someplace to go in her mind, away from the torture. But peace was nowhere to be found and she lost the battle for silence.
Her screams echoed off the walls. In her brain. She was nothing but blood and bone, and terror. Her body was being baked alive. Her life stolen inch by agonizing inch. Cell by cell.
Then suddenly there was a howl, a repeated crashing noise. The sound of a door bursting inward, being ripped off its hinges and banging into the wall. Snarls and shouts.
Turning her head, she blinked through sweat and blurred vision. Cursing, the vampire vanished in a swirl of black robes. The human hunters he left behind weren’t so lucky.
A white wolf led the charge into the video room, and Rat was the unfortunate first target of his black rage. Nick. He launched himself at the man and barreled into his chest, taking him to the floor. Rat’s scream was cut short as the white wolf tore out his throat.
Calla didn’t bother to look away from the carnage. The hunters were getting what they deserved, and she would die knowing justice had been served. They would catch the cloaked vampire as well. She knew it.
With a sigh, she closed her eyes, too tired to scream any longer. Finished. She couldn’t even be embarrassed about being naked and bound in front of Nick’s men. The pain had lessened to a throb. Shock kicking in as a false relief.
“Calla? Baby?” Nick cried hoarsely. “Open your eyes, sweetheart.”
The bonds were cut, the tension disappearing from her wrists and ankles. Strong arms lifted her, carried her out of the room. She was placed on something much softer. The sofa.
“Found me.” She tried to smile.
“I did.” A warm kiss touched her lips. “I’ll always find you. Hang on for me, okay?”
“Home.”
