The Alpha's Captive (8 page)

As he took her in his arms, she began to quake from head to toe, recoiling from Lorcan’s gentle touch with a squeal of panic, which only caused her broken body to send arcs of pain shooting through her nervous system.

“You’re not… you’re not a…”

“Shhh,” Lorcan murmured. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

“It’s a lot to worry about!” She would have hurled herself from his arms, but the pain in her chest and side made movement an impossibility. She was wounded, vulnerable, and absolutely petrified.

“I’m still the man you knew,” he soothed her. “Just a little more. And I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

He repeated the words in a deep baritone, looking her dead in the eye until she felt some part of her mind accept what he was telling her.

“You’re a werewolf,” she rasped through bloodied lips. “You’re a monster.”

“A misunderstood monster, I assure you,” he said with a soft smile that was clearly supposed to put her at ease. She was in far too much pain and still far too terrified to find his comment in any way comforting. She was weak, she was wounded, and all her instincts told her that she was in grave danger.

“I suppose we both have some explaining to do,” he said wryly as he carried her toward the relative safety of the manor.

Trembling with fear and pain, Hannah could feel herself going into a deep shock. Surely what she had seen was not possible. Men were not wolves. Wolves were not men. But maybe these men were wolves. Were-wolves.

An inane giggle rose to her lips at the inner word play, which seemed so out of place as she was carried in limbs that felt human, but that she had seen be something else entirely.

Lorcan took her into the manor and carried her up the stairs, past the portrait of Honoraria. The image of her ancestor there on the wall momentarily anchored her back in the reality she’d thought she’d known.

“That’s her…” she said in shaky tones. “Honoraria. It is her, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Lorcan admitted. “I will explain everything soon. Right now, I need to ensure your safety.” He carried her into a bedroom and laid her down with tender care on a large bed. “Lie still,” he said when she tried to sit up. “You’ve been wounded, possibly you have broken bones. The doctor will be here soon. I’m going to clean the minor cuts, hopefully we can ward off any infection. Sacha didn’t bite you, did she?”

“No,” Hannah said, moving her head ever so little. She lay still, suddenly not feeling much in the way of pain, or of anything really. She felt as though her limbs were heavy, her body one big lump of meat with little in the way of sensation. Lorcan shrugged off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, powerful dark furred forearms coming into view.

“So,” she said dully. “Are you going to beat me for coming back?”

“You are so far past beating,” he said morosely as he left the room momentarily to gather a bowl of warm water, a cloth, and some strong-smelling antiseptic solution.

Hannah didn’t know what he meant and she wasn’t sure she cared. Freed of the shackles of sense, she was simply in the moment, being tended to by a man who she had seen turn into a massive and entirely fearsome wolf. Why not. If people could be people, why couldn’t they be something else?

“I could be a bowl of petunias,” she mused to herself.

“How hard did you hit your head when Sacha took you down?” Lorcan asked the question with concern.

“I don’t know,” Hannah shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters,” he said gently, running his fingers through her hair to check for lumps and possible cuts. “You don’t seem to have any bruising here. Does your head hurt?”

Her head definitely hurt, but not in the physical sense. Her brain was twisted up on itself, flooded with pain signals and lingering fear from having seen that which no sane human ever should be able to see.

As shock faded, she started to feel the pain shooting down the side of her body where Sacha had kicked her. With the pain came anger, and more fear and the beginnings of tears.

“Why was she so mean to me?”

“Sacha is a little beast,” Lorcan scowled. “I am sorry she did what she did. Her senses were heightened and she found you before I could stop her. I should have known you would come back. I should have done more to prevent this.”

He took so much blame upon himself. “It wasn’t your fault,” she said through short breaths. “You told me to stay away.”

“I should have made sure you did. I should have put you on the first plane out of the country,” he said grimly.

“I would have come back no matter how far you sent me.”

He looked down at her and nodded with a sort of sad regret. “Unfortunately, I think you’re right. You were drawn here and you were never going to leave without answers. I’m sorry that they’re not going to be to your liking.”

“You mean the fact that you’re a werewolf? You think I don’t like that?”

“We’re monsters, Hannah. All of us.”

“Some of you,” she corrected him. “Sacha is definitely a monster. You’re not though. You saved me.”

“I saved you from death,” he said. “I can’t save you from the consequences of your decision.”

“Which are?”

“We will speak of that when I am certain you are well. You are wounded.” As he made the last pronouncement the muscles in his jaw were tense. Hannah could sense the anger rolling off him like a physical thing.

She was hurt, there was no denying that. Being hunted by Sacha had left her battered and bruised with an ache that ran the length of her torso whenever she took a breath. But Hannah’s curiosity persisted beyond pain.

“Is that what my great-aunt found out about this place? Is this why she never came back? Did someone like Sacha kill her?”

“We will speak of all of this later,” Lorcan said, stepping away to run a cloth under warm water. He began to gently sponge away the dirt that had been mushed into her face under Sacha’s onslaught. Hannah was glad for the thick clothing she wore; it had no doubt protected her from worse scrapes and bruises. She had not suspected for one moment while buying the thick pants and sweater that they would actually play any role in the evening’s events. As it was, her palms and her face were grazed and dirty. Lorcan cleaned her as best he could, being gentle over the spots that made her hiss with pain.

“Where did Honoraria sleep?”

“You are truly not going to let this go, are you?” he said with a briefly smiling look. “I will give you that, Hannah, you are admirably persistent. Even through the sort of pain that would make most people forget their high ideals.”

“Hopefully the doctor can bring me something to make my ideals higher,” Hannah quipped. “Breathing hurts.”

“You’ve probably broken ribs,” Lorcan said. “Sacha kicked you hard enough to puncture a lung.”

Again his face darkened and Hannah saw another side of him, a furious anger that was contained by a veneer of civilization, which she knew could fade in an instant. It was strange, but she almost felt sorry for Sacha. Hannah wasn’t sure whether it was the fact that Sacha had attacked her, or that she had challenged Lorcan in doing it that made him angrier. Neither one probably pleased him. He was definitely the sort of man who was accustomed to control.

Hannah coughed weakly, spitting up a blade of grass out of her mouth. She let out a little whine of pain as the motion made her ribcage move and grind in a way that it was not really supposed to.

“Enough of this,” Lorcan muttered. “This will not do.” He strode to the door, opened it, and roared into the darkness. “Get me the doctor!
Now
!”

The doctor was there within minutes. Hannah did not know if that was coincidence or if he had been somehow summoned by Lorcan’s rage, but she was glad to see him.

He was a kindly looking older man with white hair and a refined accent and gentle hands that slid beneath her sweater and palpated the painful spot on her ribcage. She found herself clinging to Lorcan’s hand tightly and gritting her teeth.

“Well, without an x-ray, the best I can say is that you’ve got cracked ribs,” the doctor pronounced. “There’s no floating motion, so I don’t think they’re broken, but you’ll need to keep her very quiet to give them time to heal. No running about, young lady,” he said, winking down at Hannah.

“Running didn’t do me any good this time,” she said grimly.

“I’ll prescribe something for the pain, and give you a shot now. That should make you more comfortable,” the doctor continued.

“She’s going to be alright?” Lorcan hovered over the bed, casting an imposing shadow over both Hannah and the doctor. His concern was clear on his features, and Hannah felt safer for it. He wasn’t just feeling guilty that Sacha had hurt her, he was genuinely worried about her. In that moment, she could almost forget about what he really was.

“I’d say so,” the doctor nodded, pushing the large sweater up over Hannah’s midsection to examine her more closely. “There’s already bruising, but I don’t see any signs of internal bleeding. If she starts to lose consciousness, or if you have any concerns at all, the hospital is the best idea.”

“I don’t want to go to the hospital,” Hannah said firmly. She did not particularly care for medical institutions, they freaked her out. Even more than her current circumstances, which was saying a lot. Past experiences had taught her that a pack of werewolves was probably safer and kinder than the average doctor or overworked nurse.

“It shouldn’t be necessary, though it would be a worthwhile precaution.” The doctor addressed his comment more to Lorcan than to her. “Of course, there are… potential issues with that if she happens to share your… condition.”

The doctor knew. That was interesting. Hannah wondered just how many people knew about Lorcan’s pack. Or perhaps the doctor was part of it?

“Are you a werewolf too?” She asked the question directly, figuring that was the only way to find out.

“No, my dear,” the doctor said in vaguely condescending tones. “I’m a fire engine.” He shook his head at her. “You’ve had quite a bump on the head, haven’t you.”

“It’s alright, Doctor Doncaster, she knows.”

White brows rose ceiling-ward. “She knows? And you want me to put her back together?”

“You’re an asshole, doc,” Hannah chimed in.

“Not so, young lady,” the doctor replied with more than an air of disapproval at her choice of language. “My family has been serving this pack for centuries. It’s not often they ask us to aid a human to survive the revelation.”

“This one is precious to me,” Lorcan said. “And I suspect she shares our blood. Please, make her comfortable.”

“Make me comfortable better not be another term for getting rid of me,” Hannah muttered. She hissed and squirmed as the doctor’s fingers passed over her ribs a second time.

“It really does feel like a hairline fracture,” he said. “I would not expect her to be in any danger unless she sustains more injury to the same area.”

“That will not happen,” Lorcan said with a flat determination that made Hannah feel sorry for anyone who so much as looked at her sideways. In spite of the shock of what she had seen and the pain she was in, it was nice to feel so very cared about and protected.

Lorcan watched over her while the doctor drew a dose of some painkiller and asked her to roll over onto her good side. She did so extremely reluctantly, a blush appearing on both sets of cheeks as the doctor tugged the back of her pants down, baring her buttocks.

She felt the prick of the needle and within seconds, a pleasant warmth was spreading through her body, taking the pain away and leaving only a lovely floating feeling.

“They’re all puppies,” she said happily. “Fluffy little puppies.”

Lorcan’s deep chuckle floated with her into a much-needed slumber.

Incarcerated in the cell beneath the manor, Sacha was not well pleased. It was a fairly large enclosure, but it was an enclosure nonetheless. She was trapped away from the night and the moon and the world at large. The human bitch had been taken into the fold and she had been locked away like some worthless whelp. All because Lorcan wanted to get his cock wet. Unforgivable.

She had often fantasized about locking Lorcan in the cell she now found herself imprisoned in and assuming control of the pack, so there was a certain irony to her predicament. However, Sacha was not the sort of woman who put a great deal of stock in irony. She was furious, and already planning her revenge on both Lorcan and his little American whore.

The door to the basement opened and two men came down the stairs. She recognized them from their scent—Mark and Lawrence, twins in their mid-forties, Lorcan’s customary enforcers thanks to their bulk and build. They were tall, powerful men with dark beards, slightly graying at their temples. Sacha had never quite understood why they had not challenged Lorcan; after all, he was but a whelp to them. Somehow his force of personality had satisfied their need for an alpha.

Unfortunately for her, they were both brawny and determined, and they took their duties seriously, which did not bode well for her considering one held a cane and the other a thick leather paddle. Mark unlocked the cell door and let Lawrence step inside first before following and relocking the door behind him. They moved carefully, their eyes never leaving her still form as she sat on the thin lumpy mattress that passed for bedding.

“What are you curs doing?” Sacha spat the words at them before they dared take a further step toward her. “You should be crawling on your bellies.”

“Lorcan has asked us to deal with you,” Mark said. “Take it easy now, Sacha. You know you have this coming.”

“Licking Lorcan’s arse,” Sacha said contemptuously. “Doing his bidding without thought.”

“He is our alpha. You challenged him. That usually means death. This is mercy.”

Simple logic for simple men. Sacha loathed them completely.

“I was born as much an alpha as he. If you so much as touch me, you’ll be asking Lorcan for new limbs,” Sacha growled, bristling with pure fury. “How dare you approach me this way. I have always outranked you. You are nothing compared to me.”

Mark and Lawrence looked at one another, she hoped with some measure of trepidation. The notion of laying hands on the female alpha would surely run counter to their instincts. With any luck she could talk them out of their task with nothing but scathing words and send them running back to Lorcan, tails between their legs.