Trinity Bound (2 page)

Chapter 1

Cold spread from a pinprick of sensation as a droplet of water hit Hannah Lewis’s cheek. It trailed down to her eye, forcing her to open them to blink it away. Stone walls surrounded her, and the frayed edges on the cement floor dug into her skin. The only means of escape seemed to be a lone rusty metal door in the stone wall. No windows illuminated the room. Cut off from the outside world, she couldn’t feel the earth.

As an earth witch, she needed the sensation of soil beneath her feet, the air dancing across her face and through her hair. But cut off, she drifted without an anchor. Hannah slowly sat up, and her muscles ached from her stay.

She snorted.
Stay
. Right.

That sounded like she was happy to be here. No, the bruises and cuts from her
captivity
hurt. But she thanked the goddess she wasn’t hurt any more than she was.

The man sharing her room moaned in his sleep. No, not a man, a
werewolf
. By the shouts of their captors, she knew him to be Reed, a wolf of the Redwood Pack, son of the Alpha. They’d brought him in three nights before. At least she thought it was three nights. She couldn’t be sure anymore. He seemed to hurt more than she. They had chained him to the wall, same as her, but far enough apart they couldn’t touch. And if they were to speak to each other, the guards came in and beat Reed. Never her though. It was almost like a cruel joke to have someone share her burden but be allowed no contact. Her gut twisted, and bile filled her mouth.

Her fingers ached to touch his smooth skin and heal his pains as the healer she was. But she couldn’t get close enough to him to do so. Another cruelty. She couldn’t bear to see him hurt.

Reed shifted, then snapped open his eyes. She gave him an encouraging smile, the best she could come up with under these conditions. He smiled back, that small gesture almost lighting up his face. Maybe in another time, another place, when they weren’t being held in the Central’s basement, with no clue whether they would live or die, they would have met and gone on a date. She smiled again at the thought. Yes, that would have been nice. Her smiled faded. But that was not the case. And by the looks of this place, it would never be. Sadness filled her at the loss of something she didn’t know she wanted.

Reed reached out and spread his fingers toward her, careful of the cameras watching their every move. Hannah did the same, longing to feel contact. To remember who she was.

The metal door scraped open, the screeching sound echoing in the dank room. They both pulled their arms back as she began to shake in fear. She cursed herself for her cowardliness. But it had been too long since she held hope. She didn’t want to die. Not here. Not now.

The Central Alpha’s son, Corbin, walked into the room with his smooth glide and a snarl on his lips. Hannah hid the shudders fighting to rack her body at the sight of him. His eyes were dark orbs with no light of goodness hiding within. Whatever was on his mind reeked of evil, an evil she wanted no part of, but it looked as though she had no choice.

The man strode to her, nodding to his two accompanying guards. The guards walked toward her and unshackled her arms and legs. Pain tingled in her fingers and toes as the blood rushed through them from being cut off from good circulation for so long.
Oh goddess. What is he going to do with me?
The guards lifted her to her feet, their grips digging into her arms, hurting her further.

“Let go of her. Take me,” Reed’s growled from his place on the floor, his voice gravelly.

Oh, how she wished she could just be with this stranger and not go where Corbin wanted. But she couldn’t let him be hurt either. She didn’t know why, other than the fact she hated to see anyone harmed. It pained her to think about him in her position. He might be a werewolf and be able to heal at a faster rate, but she could take what Corbin brought. She had to.

Corbin laughed at Reed and took a previously unseen whip to her companion’s back. Reed groaned in pain at the contact of the whip flaying his flesh. Hannah whimpered at the sight of his blood leaking to the floor. The guards pulled her toward Corbin, her feet trailing the ground as she fought their hold. They merely shook her violently for her to comply. The Alpha’s son grabbed her from them and forced her against him. Bile rose in her throat at the oily feel of his skin, his aura.

She looked back over her shoulder at Reed. He lay bleeding, glaring at the guards and Corbin, still struggling against his chains to reach her. Why did she feel such a connection to a man she’d never met outside these stone walls? And, by the look on Reed’s face, he might feel the same. Corbin dug his fingers into her arm and shook her, forcing her back to her cold reality.

As the man pulled her to the door, she fought against his hold. His hand came across her face, the sting radiating in her cheek, bringing tears to her eyes. Reed’s shouts and pleas followed her out the door until the men closed it with a slam, along with the hope she would get out of this alive. A sinking feeling bottomed out in her stomach. This might be the end.

Corbin dragged her down the hall, and she pulled against at his grip, struggling to get free. She screamed at the guards for help. Surely, there was at least one person out there who could help her.
Dear goddess.
Her captor’s hand, again, contacted her face, bringing stars to her eyes and a thin warm trickle of what must be blood down her chin.

At the end of the hall, a door with natural light spilling out along the cracks on the side and bottom, tingled that last spark of hope. Could she escape? She fought to release herself from Corbin’s hold. If she got out, she could get help and come back for Reed. She didn’t know when she’d started to think of not only herself, but Reed, but she didn’t care. Her foot came down on Corbin’s instep. She used the surprise to kick him in the groin and twisted free. The evil man yelled, as she ran toward the light. She panted and prayed she could make it. Corbin’s hand shot out and grabbed her again. The spark of hope dulled to a slight numbing light. He took her arm in an unforgiving grip and threw her against the wall. Her head cracked against the stone, but she was thankful he hadn’t used the whole of his strength.

“Don’t you fucking try that again, girl. Or I won’t kill you when I’m done with you,” he snarled. His torment promised pain and suffering if the reward was death. She held onto the whimper that threatened to escape her throat. She refused to give him the satisfaction.

Corbin lifted her up and carried her to another room off the hall. Before she could pull her mind out of the fuzziness caused by his strikes, he had her strapped down onto a cool metal table, the leather straps digging into her arms and legs and around her stomach. He tightened the straps with a bruising force. The one on her stomach cut into her skin, a thin line of blood forming.

Oh goddess.

Fear crawled on her skin like thousands of tiny bugs searching for a home.

What was he going to do?

Hannah took deep breaths, trying to calm herself. If she panicked and lost her focus, she might lose a chance of escape. She almost laughed at that. Escape? She wasn’t some alpha heroine in a romance novel. No, she was just a witch who needed her earth and missed a guy who shared a cell with her. She must be crazy.

The strong scent of lemony citrus invaded her nose when she inhaled again. She almost coughed at the pungent aroma. She looked around at the sickly sterile environment and shivered at the cold practicality of Corbin’s torture chamber. The scent was harsh to her senses. Though not as strong as a werewolf’s, her sense of smell was more attentive than a normal human’s.

Corbin moved above her, blocking her view of the room, a gleeful look in his eyes. Like a kid on Christmas morning waiting to open his enormous amounts of presents and stocking stuffers. She swallowed down the vomit threatening to rise. This was going to hurt. Badly.

The evil wolf carried a cat-o’-nine tails in one hand and a whip in another.

He never stopped smiling as he hit her five times with the tails then five times with the whip. She cried out with each hit, each stroke. She might have been strong in some respects, but the blinding pain racking her body and her blood soaking the floor was too much for her to handle. Tears leaked from her eyes as he hit and hit.

“Tell me, Hannah, what is your power? Why are you so damn important?” Corbin sneered the words, looking engrossed in his flaying.

Powers? That was what this was all about? She was just an earth witch, a rare one due to her healing. But that couldn’t be what he wanted. Right?

Corbin hit her again, her vision going black, as the door opened. Hector, the Alpha, Corbin’s father, walked in.

“Enough, Corbin.” Hector’s voice radiated power and demanded respect.

Corbin stopped but looked like he was about to revolt. He took a deep breath, glared at Hannah, and then painstakingly placed the tools of his trade on their bench. With one last smirk in her direction, he stomped away like an insolent puppy.

Hector stepped purposely toward her.

She braced for his fist or hand, too pained to do anything but take it.

But the strike never came.

“Hannah, why won’t you use your powers?”

She couldn’t, not without the earth. But she wouldn’t tell them that. No, she couldn’t tell them anything. Once she did, they wouldn’t need her anymore. Then they would kill her. And maybe Reed.

Chapter 2

Reed Jamenson watched as Corbin dragged Reed’s mate out of the dungeon against her will. He growled and pulled at his chains again as fury boiled in his veins. Hannah, sweet Hannah, with her curly brown hair and plump lips, dragged like a marionette doll whose strings were pulled too tight. Her screams seeped through the metal door, and he pulled at his chains, willing all of the strength a werewolf like him could possess. Blood seeped beneath the manacles as he struggled to no avail.

Typical. He wasn’t strong enough to protect a mate he’d just met. Wasn’t even strong enough to protect himself. Shame dimmed his fury. That’s how he’d ended up in the Central’s clutches to begin with. Too weak to escape capture. He might have sacrificed himself to save his brother’s mate, but he could have done more. The Centrals had come to their den and attacked, killing countless Pack members. His brothers had fought valiantly, purposely. Yet, Reed, only an artist who thought he could fight, had lost.

They’d knocked him unconscious, thrown him in their truck, and taken him away. Three nights or so had passed, yet his family hadn’t come. Did they want to? When the Centrals had taken Willow, his sister-in-law, she’d been gone for only a day at most. Their family had chased after Anna, his other sister-in-law, but they were too late for her. Grief warred with his other emotions. What group would he land in? Or would they come for him at all? He was the fourth of six sons and one daughter. He held no power in the Pack, no purpose. He was just a man who liked to paint and fancied himself an artist. A nobody. Yeah, he was a werewolf and could kill a man with his bare hands, but he still felt inadequate sometimes.

His arms and legs were a mottled collection of bruises and cuts spliced together in a macabre pattern that almost appealed to his artist senses. Almost. Every time they came in and he tried to help Hannah in any way, they beat him. His back and side were sore to the touch. No doubt he had bruised, if not broken, rib or two. They kept away from his face oddly enough. But Corbin and his cronies didn’t stray from Hannah’s. And Reed couldn’t protect her. Rage bubbled up from deep inside him.

Reed shook his head to rid himself of those melancholy thoughts and took deep calming breaths. Acting irrational wouldn’t help; it could only harm in this situation. And frankly, he needed to get out of here and save Hannah. Even if he had to do it himself. They’d dragged her out of here and he could do nothing but watch and pull at his chains.

The thought of her honey and bitter apple scent made his mouth salivate. Her corkscrew curls lay flat against her face when they let her walk or when she shook her head. His fingers ached to pull at one gently and see if it would spring back. He wanted to paint her angelic face, her chestnut hair. That’s what he did when he found a subject he found desirable. But Hannah was no normal subject. Her wide gray eyes stared at him with a glimmer of hope, and he prayed he could deliver. Though he was in a dark, gloomy dungeon, his cock still hardened at the thought of what she would taste like when he licked her skin. Or lower.