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“That bitch,” Fred yells. “How the fuck did she find you to protect her?” I do not take my eyes off Sam when I stab Fred in the leg.
I ignore his shout of pain. “What can you tell me, Sam?”
“We just want to talk to her,” he swears.
At his lie, I stab Fred an inch up from the last. “Try again.”
“Shit, alright. Our Alpha wants her. He’s obsessed with her.”
“Don’t say another fucking word,” Fred growls.
I stab again, this time in his arm. “I would keep talking, Sam. I know we heal pretty quickly, but not when there are hundreds of stab wounds.”
“He wants to mate her. All I know is we are supposed to bring her to pack lands. That’s it,” he whines.
“She is not his mate,” I point out.
“It doesn’t matter. He says he can force it.”
“You know what that means, don’t you, Sam,” I glare. The universe would deny the bond as they are not natural mates. Grant would cause Saylor immense pain if he touched her now that she found me. He could kill me, or try, but Saylor still wouldn’t accept the bond. Her body would reject it, and she would live in misery when he forced it.
“No.”
“Leave him alone. He doesn’t know anything else,” Fred says through gritted teeth.
I take a step back. “You might be telling the truth.” I move to stand in front of Fred. “Saylor isn’t your Alpha’s mate. She will never be his mate.” I grip his neck. “Because she is my mate,” I whisper in his ear.
“Fuck.” He pales.
“Yes, fuck is an appropriate word, Fred.” I pull back to look into his eyes.
“You haven’t mated yet,” he says desperately. He would be able to smell Saylor inside me, her scent would be mixed with mine.
“That’s the response you want to go with in this situation?” I ask, shaking my head and tightening my grip.
“Alright, I didn’t know she had a mate.”
“Would it make a difference?” If Grant is determined to have her, he won’t care if we are mated or not. The only solution is to kill him.
He stays stubbornly silent.
“Are we going to kill them now?” Bash asks.
“No. Not yet.” I look at the vampires. “Let’s have a little fun with them now; maybe a few days hanging in your dungeon will help them remember what I want to know.”
“How long has it been since I have tortured someone?” Ryker ponders, a dreamy look on his face.
“I’m sure it will come back to you, vampire,” I say dryly.
“Probably,” he concedes.
“Jesus, can we do this now?” I demand.
They both nod, baring their teeth.
Shit, I hate vampires.
I stopped at my house to shower the blood off and change into clean clothes. The cheetahs didn’t want to talk, and after two hours of torture, they couldn’t speak. They will heal enough in a few days to start over again.
