Were Slave (2010) (13 page)

Fenton's sour breath was hot against her ear. "Stay back,
Were. Your threats are useless. I won't allow Paqualette to suffer under this
foolish woman's control any longer. Don't you see? If you have any sense in
your mind, if there's any human left in you, you'll understand my actions."

"No." Mace stepped closer. "I won't understand anything if
you harm her." His lips curled up into his teeth as he seethed. "I'll tear your
goddamn limbs off and feed them to my pack if you hurt her."

Fenton wheezed and his hand at her arm felt clammy as his
grip loosened. "Stay back!" he choked out.

The edge of the blade eased some, allowing her a shallow
intake of air. It was now or never. She jolted to the side and the sharp edge
of the weapon carved into her flesh as she dropped to the ground.

Blood seeped from the wound and oozed down, staining her
dress. Too much blood. Oh God. Help me. She pressed her hand to the raw sliced
flesh, felt the burning pain and watched in shock as chaos erupted around her.

Mace lunged forward, changing into his wolf form. A chilling
scream cut through the night air as Fenton stumbled, futilely trying to run
away. The enormous black wolf trapped him against the earth and didn't waste
one second before chomping his sharp teeth into Fenton's jugular.

Nayla clamped her gritty eyes shut as both nausea and
exhaustion claimed her.

She prayed for sleep. She prayed for the calming blackness
to save her from her aching heart, her woozy stomach, her helpless, paralyzing
fear.

She prayed the horrifying sounds from her past would stop,
from the day her parents had been murdered just like this.

Mace. Mace was the executioner now, she reminded herself.
Yes, it was for her sake, for her protection, but the putrid coppery smell and
the sound of flesh being torn from bones was unbearable. Her stomach roiled and
her pulse pounded at the back of her head.

She dug her forehead into the damp leaves on the forest
floor and gave in to her extreme fatigue. The dark bottomless pit consumed her,
but the promise of peace was a lie. A god-awful lie, ripping her from her
senses and forcing her back to that terrible day she'd lost her parents.

Stop. He has to stop.

The sharp teeth. The screams of horror. Scarlet puddles
of blood pouring from their bodies, seeping through the wooden floor.

The sounds. Oh God, the sounds of death.

There's no end to the torture. Her parents are going to
die. She'll never see them again. Never hear her mother's sweet laughter or
cuddle into her father's large embrace.

The monster is too big. I'm too small. Can't stop him.

I'm so sorry. So very sorry.

"Nayla. Nayla!" The monster's voice was familiar as he
called her name, hacking through the mist in her mind.

Wet velvet licked at her neck over and over again. His tongue.
The animal's tongue. It burned her wound but she couldn't move, couldn't push
him away.

"Nayla, you can't leave me. Come back to me. I love you.
God, I love you."

No. You're a murderer. Stay away from me.

She had to save herself, to drop farther into the trenches
of her mind where he couldn't find her, couldn't see her. She fell until the
cavern of night ended, its spongy floor bouncing her up and sucking her down.

Safe. I'm safe here.

A twinkling light flickered in the corner. Just there. Gone
then back again.

"He loves you." The soft melodic sound of her mother's voice
floated above Nayla's head.

"Mother?"

"Yes, it's me, sweetheart. Rest your head and listen.
You've pained for too many years."

Nayla gasped for breath as her lungs grew heavy. Her eyes stung.

"I couldn't save you. I'm so sorry."

"Tsk. You mustn't blame yourself, child. And you mustn't
blame him either. The one who loves you."

"He's a Were, Mother. Like the animal who killed you."

"No, Nayla. They're of two different minds. One of evil,
hate and vengeance, the other of honor, love and loyalty. Confuse them and
you'll never find happiness."

"I'm not sure I deserve love. His love or any love. Not
when I survived and you..."

"Shush, child. You always were a stubborn one."

Sweet laughter filled Nayla's ears and heart.

"I never thought I'd hear your laugh again."

"I live on, Nayla. In your heart, in your memories. I
live on and so should you. If you need my permission to love this Were, then I
fully give it to you. Open your heart to him. Live and be loved."

"Live?"

"Yes, child. Go on now. You've wasted too much time
here."

* * * * *

Mace tore the clothing from her body, shredded a piece of
cloth and pressed it to her neck. He tried to focus on stopping the bleeding
rather than her ashen skin and the size of the gash on her neck. And how her
pulse fluttered weakly under his hand.

God, this couldn't be happening. He wouldn't let her die.

His pack surrounded him. Saul and Kaige knelt by his side.

"She's lost a lot of blood, Mace." Kaige, in human form,
skimmed his fingers over her forehead and cheek, pushing back a thin layer of
mud and ringlets of damp hair.

Mace released his suppressed growl, throwing his frustration
directly at Kaige. "You touch her again and I'll kill you. Do you understand
that?"

Kaige lifted his hands in surrender. "Understood. So what
are we going to do? We've got a dead councilman and a dying Queen. It won't
take long for the Paqualette guard to find us here and come to some screwy
conclusions. Do we really want to end up in that dungeon again?"

"She's not dying. " Mace said the words but knew deep down
they weren't true. His gut twisted at just how true they were. He leaned over
to kiss her cold lips and to whisper he loved her. If only he'd had the nerve
to tell her when she was conscious. Coward.

Kaige rose to his feet. "So what would you like to do? Take
her with us? We can't stay here. It would be stupid to think Fenton traveled
all this way by himself. His men must be camped somewhere near here."

Mace ignored Kaige and turned to Saul, who was looking down
at Nayla with tears in his eyes. "We can find a physician who can help her.
Where's the closest one?"

Saul shook his head slowly, his brow creased. "One in town
and one at the castle. Too far, I'm afraid."

"Who else? A nurse. Anyone. Who lives near here?"

A hint of hope glistened in Saul's moist eyes. "The coven.
The witches' coven is near."

"Witches." Mace had come across several covens in his long
life and knew just how powerful some of them were. Hell, one had helped him save
Blanca and Kaige from the Vampire slave ring. Of course, he'd had to bargain
with them. There was always a fee of some sort with witches. But it didn't
matter. He'd do anything to save Nayla. "Let's go."

"And what about us?" Kaige asked. "What about your pack,
Mace? Would you like us to wait around until the damn guard attacks us again?
You're our leader for a reason. You're supposed to make the decisions to
protect us and keep us together."

Mace glanced around at the faces of his pack and then at
Nayla. "You're all able-bodied. You do what you must to survive. My mate is my
priority now. She needs my help. If you choose to follow me to the witches'
coven, then I'll gladly be your trusted leader when I know for certain she'll
live. If you choose to leave, you'll be cut of your ties to me and I'll wish
you the best."

Without another thought, Mace carefully bundled her up in
his arms. The decision to stay in Paqualette to save his mate would've
surprised him a year ago, hell, a week ago, but now it was the only choice. His
pack had been his life, his heart, his pride. He'd killed for them. He'd die
for them. But if there was a chance he could save Nayla, the woman to whom he'd
given half his soul, then he'd damn well follow through.

Saul quickly led the way through the forest until they
reached a visible trail. Behind Mace footsteps followed, some human, some wolf.
But he refrained from turning to see who remained and who he'd never see again.

The lush body in his arms was limp and pale, her lips blue.
How much longer? He readjusted her, cradling her with one arm and pressed
harder on the gouge. The bleeding had slowed but her pulse had slowed as well.
Damn it all to hell.

He gritted his teeth and shoved the disparaging thoughts
from his mind.

She'd live and he'd make love to her again. Hell, he'd be
her damn WereSlave if that would guarantee her survival.

Anything.

He'd do anything.

Seven thatched-roof bungalows sat in a tidy row along the
shallow, narrow creek. They showed no signs of life except for the last one on
the left, which had a single candle flickering in the window.

A beacon of light, Mace thought.

Hope.

That's where he would take her.

"Stay here," he yelled over his shoulder to the remainder of
his pack, catching a glimpse of most of his followers. Only Kaige was missing.
The realization was a punch to his gut. He'd lost his best friend to save the
life of his mate.

Kaige, the damn fool, wasn't as loyal as Mace had hoped.

To hell with it. He shook off the disappointment and nodded
to the steadfast group and then to Saul. Now he knew who he could trust. "Thank
you for staying. Guard these homes. I'll call you if I need you."

Determination fueling him, he leapt over the creek and
didn't bother to knock as he pushed through the door. The sturdy slab of wood
swung open and hit the wall. A middle-aged woman with silver and black streaks
of long, wiry hair stood just beyond with her hands clasped in front of her and
a meek smile on her face.

As if she'd been waiting for them.

"Set her in there." The woman gestured toward an open
bedroom door, her white linen gown swooshing with her movement, reminding Mace
of an angel.

Please, if there was a god, any god, then let her be an
angel.

Without a word, he strode into the bedroom and set Nayla's
lifeless body on the mattress, careful not to jostle her wound.

The witch made her way to the other side of the bed with a
small tin pot cradled in her hands. Steam billowed from the top.

"What is that?" Mace asked.

"Something to soothe her pain. A remedy of sorts."

He was tempted to ask how she knew to prepare her medicine
beforehand but decided not to press his luck. The witches he'd known in the
past were quite secretive of their powers.

With smooth hands that appeared younger than her age, she
scooped a handful of white fatty mush from the pot and placed it on Nayla's
neck.

"My mother's recipe," the woman said with a wink.

Who gave a damn, as long as it worked? Mace pushed any doubt
from his mind and sat next to Nayla. He leaned toward the witch so she'd see
the seriousness on his face. "Can you help her? As you can see she's lost a lot
of blood."

She shrugged and maneuvered the mush to cover the gouge,
avoiding eye contact. "I might be able to help. What sort of person would I be
if I didn't attempt to save my Queen?"

"A dead person. A fucking corpse." Mace swallowed the anger
rising in his throat. Her nonchalance was grinding his last nerve. Leave it to
a witch to minimize a dire situation.

"Threats will get you nowhere, Mace."

"How do you know my name?"

"The Queen's WereSlave?" She arched a salt and pepper brow.
"Who in Paqualette doesn't know who you are? I think it's sweet that you've
fallen in love with your master. A big mean ol' Were like yourself." She cocked
her head. "By the way, my name is Lorzener, though my girls call me Lorze. You,
honey, can call me whatever you want."

"I'm not here to play games, woman," he spat out. "If you
have the means to save her life you better damn well do everything in your
power."

Her irritating smile didn't fade. "And what will I get in
return?"

Of course.

"Anything. Name it." There was no time for bartering.

Lorzener's deep blue gaze swept over his body. She seemed
undaunted that he was covered head to toe with blood. Fenton's blood. The
bastard deserved to die a hundred painful deaths for what he'd done to Nayla.

Mace reveled in the memory, pleased he'd been the one to
extract Fenton's evil soul from this earth. To shred the bitter flesh from his
bones. To crush the last breath of air from his lungs.

Lorzener's eyes widened and locked in when her gaze reached
his dick, forcing him back to the here and now. The grim reality. No matter
what he'd done to Fenton, Nayla was still in danger.

"What?" he growled at the witch.

"You're impressive. It's no wonder she picked you." She met
his stare and twisted her grin. "I suspect the two of you are quite a sight in
the throes of passion. A beauty and her beast."

"There's no time for your jokes, witch. What the hell do you
want?"

"I can make her a Were, an immortal just like you. Can you
imagine that? A Were for our Queen?" She laughed. "Paqualette would never be
the same with all those puppies running around."

"No! That's not an option." Not when he'd lost his Elizabeth
the same way. What were the odds of Nayla surviving the plague, especially when
she was half-dead to begin with?

"Why not?" Her smile finally weakened. "If she doesn't die
today, she'll die ten, twenty, thirty years from now. That's a blink of an eye
for an immortal, is it not?"

"It is." He couldn't argue. "But inflicting the plague is
too risky. There has to be another way. Look at her," he said, but couldn't
stomach doing the same. How could he watch her perish before his very eyes?
"You must save her."