When a Beta Roars (12 page)

Not entirely true. Arabella could sense her wolf side—watching in snuffling amusement as Arabella squeaked and dodged the blonde dynamo in the ring. Lucky for her, Luna didn’t seem intent on actually hurting her. However, the physical exertion on her poor human body proved almost as bad.

She’d gotten out of shape as a result of her secluded lifestyle with Harry.

Someone needs one of those circle things rodents run in.

The projected image of a hamster in a wheel might have proven amusing to her inner wolf, but Arabella mentally scowled.

Some of us wouldn’t be so out of breath right now if a certain furry chickenpup would come out and take over.

Silence.

But not a full retreat. Far from hiding, Arabella got the impression her other side sulked. If exertion wouldn’t yank her out, then maybe insults and nagging would.

A strategy Luna seemed intent on also trying. “Here puppy, puppy. Come on out, and I’ll give you a Scooby snack.”

“She’s partial to bacon, the maple-smoked kind.”

“Gotcha. I’ll add Beggin’ Strips to my grocery list.”

Please do.

Stupid dog treats were the equivalent of candy to a human.

“We need to take a break,” Arabella panted. “We’ve been at this for over an hour. I need a shower and some food. Lots of food.”

“But we’re not done.”

“You might not be. But I am.”

How easily the expressing of her opinion flowed now. It wasn’t just with Hayder she found the confidence to speak her mind. She was doing it with others too. And no one raised a fist.

Well, actually, Luna did, but it was for a fist bump as she yelled, “I am going to take you out to eat the best fries and burger you’ve ever tasted.”

“Is there lots of it?”

“Tons. It’s shifter owned and operated so we get special deals. And best of all, it’s only a block away and super busy. No wolves would dare accost you there. Way too public.”

Wow, was Luna ever wrong.

“What the hell do you mean you took her out?” Hayder ranted as he paced back and forth, wearing a trail in the Berber carpeting covering the floor of the condo’s onsite boardroom.

A bruised and scratched Luna, one eye turning a lovely shade of purple, hung her head in contrition. A first. “I just meant to help. I thought she could use a bit of unwinding and exercise, so I took her to the gym to work out. And it wasn’t like we went alone. There was a group of us—me, Nellie, and Joan.”

An adequate guard, actually. It didn’t lessen Hayder’s glower. “Fine, so you took precautions getting there, and yet, according to reports, she wasn’t taken from the gym.”

“Well, no. See, after working out, she said she was hungry, so we went to lunch. Again there was a bunch of us. I wasn’t stupid. A few of the other lionesses tagged along. It should have been safe. I mean we’re talking about noon on a Tuesday. Tons of freaking people, humans I might add, all around.”

“And yet that didn’t stop them,” Arik, also present for the debriefing, mused aloud.

“Didn’t stop them? Understatement. They made the bloody news,” Hayder shouted, still blown away by it all. Everyone was stunned by the brazen attack on Arabella and her guards.

Usually shifters tended to try and keep their violent retaliations out of sight. The less attention they drew, the better. No one wanted to test humanity’s capacity for acceptance when it came to discovering shifters and other mythical beings lived among them.

Discretion was more than a law passed down over the centuries. It was a way of life—until now.

The brawl, centered in the area around the chip truck, could have come straight from an action movie—and that was how they were spinning it online. Forget hiding all the videos bystanders filmed. There was no stopping them, and if not for the digital replay, Hayder might not have believed how it all went down.

This was a full-on assault.
No discretion or hesitation. Violent and determined best described the well-executed plan. Obviously someone had notified the Lycan groups where Arabella was. They were ready to act within minutes of her exiting the gym. The best video of the unfolding action, while grainy, was jaw dropping.

As it replayed on the large LCD screen bolted to the wall, Hayder once again couldn’t prevent a macabre urge to watch. There was Arabella, surrounded, as Luna claimed, by pride ladies. A large group. A safe group under most circumstance. Lips moved as the women chatted, some lounging on the picnic tables ranged alongside the chip truck. Nothing out of the ordinary so far as they waited for their foot-long sausage and onion rings. Heads turned as several vehicles screeched to a stop by the sidewalk. From the depths of the dozen or so matching SUVs spilled guys, lots of them.

The videos didn’t provide smell, but given the feral miens, and what ensured next, it wasn’t hard to guess they were wolves. Wolves who swarmed the lionesses and Arabella.

While some of the thugs engaged Luna and the others—to their detriment as the ladies taught them no-means-no—yet more seemed determined to grab Arabella and drag her away.

Don’t touch.
Apparently his lion wasn’t the only one who thought those curs needed to keep their hands to themselves.

To his delight, his baby didn’t let them march her away without a fight. While she didn’t turn as savage as she had the night those other wolves drew his blood, she gave a good show, thrashing and flailing, even biting. However, the numbers were stacked against her. Her petite form was overwhelmed by the bastards determined to take her.

Hoisted aloft, they carted her away from the battle to the waiting vehicles. She was swallowed by one of the black SUVs. Off it sped with her a prisoner. Away it went without leaving a clear trail to follow.

It disappeared, leaving him with nothing.

Argh.

Before people wondered if the pride’s security network sucked, it should be noted all the pride members drew together quickly and formed numerous hunting parties. The wolves, with their matching SUVs, led them on a merry chase. But in the end, the lions mostly prevailed.

They netted almost all the wolves and vehicles involved in the kidnapping. Only two got away. And, of course, one of them, the vehicle holding Arabella, managed to slip through their paws.

Lucky Hayder got to study her abduction from a few cell phone camera angles. Each time he watched, his blood boiled hotter and hotter.

What surprised him was the temerity of the wolves didn’t have his alpha spouting off a rant and promising to rain destruction. If one ignored Hayder, those present in the boardroom were calm, so calm Leo had yet to move from his spot on the couch where he read an actual paperback book—tree killer.

The lack of any kind of vengeance-fueled emotion irritated Hayder even more. “Why aren’t you more perturbed?” Did no one understand the calamity? Arabella was gone!

Fingers still texting, Arik peered up from his cell phone. “I am actually very upset, but since you’re already roaring, I figure I’ll save my voice for later when we accost the stupid dogs and give them payback for their effrontery.” Arik’s cold smile promised death.

“I want to kill them,” Hayder growled. “Rip them apart. Stomp on them. Make them wish they were the load their mother swallowed.”

“Dude, that was a visual no one needed. But I’ll forgive it because you’re upset. I’ll make sure to save you a few curs when we find them so you can work on your anger issues.” A thump on his back almost sent him staggering as Leo consoled him.

“So kind of you,” was his sarcastic reply.

“I know. All part of my calming personality.”

Calming to Leo perhaps. Anyone else watching the big man crack his knuckles would have probably swallowed in fear and wet themselves, especially if they knew to expect a visit from the granite-hard fist.

Leo liked to fight old school, bare knuckled and with the force of a freight train behind it.

Sure glad he’s on our side.

“Do we even know where they are?” Hayder asked, a little calmer now that he knew the pride was behind him and ready to mete out punishment.

“Yup. Or at least we have a fair idea of where they’re going. The full moon is tonight, and the battle for alpha and Arabella is happening at midnight in Arianrhod’s Meadow.”

“Isn’t that smack-dab in a federal park?”

Arik nodded. “That’s the one. The council deemed it a neutral spot for the fight.”

A fight that still boggled the feline mind. The pride only rarely resorted to battle to decide matters. When it came to leadership, the lions and other felines used more diplomatic methods and based their choice on not just physical strength but intelligence and charisma too. They wanted a true king, not a brute to rule over them.

“If we’ve got the spot, then what are we waiting for?”

“Who says we’re waiting. I’ve got cars already en route.”

“You what? Why the hell aren’t I in one?” Any delay could prove disastrous. Not just to Arabella but himself. He walked a thin line between sanity and primitive impulse. It wasn’t just his lion pulsing under the skin asking to get out. He needed to find Arabella. He needed to ensure her safety. He needed to kill something to calm the beast pulsing just under his skin.

Arik snorted. “Why drive when we can fly? The chopper is being fueled and will be on its way to grab us shortly. They might have a head start, but we’ll make up time in the air.”

But would they arrive before harm befell Arabella? That was the question Hayder didn’t dare to ponder too long, but that made him roar in frustration.

Hold on, baby, I’m coming.

The end is coming.

And she didn’t even get a good last meal. Damned kidnappers snagged her before she got her lunch from the chip truck. Sob. And it smelled so good. A real bacon burger with cheddar cheese, fried onions, and a bunch of yummy condiments.

Thinking about the food didn’t help her hungry tummy, but it did help distract from her situation. Dire. Yup, that one word about summed it up.

Hours since her capture and a blur of unfamiliar countryside was all that she got to see from the back seat of an SUV, a seat she got to share with a pair of leering men who should really invest in a new brand of deodorant.

Keeping her eyes open and focused proved a bit of a chore, as her brain still rattled from the blow of a well-aimed fist during the melee. The needle they’d jabbed her with, packed with a sedative, when they managed to squirrel her away in the SUV didn’t help matters.

Whatever the drug they used, it proved powerful. She’d passed out. Night-night. When she regained consciousness the dashboard clock showed hours had passed. Hours, and apparently neither Hayder, nor the pride, had managed to save her.

That really didn’t bode well.

Either the wolves had well and truly plotted the perfect extraction, or Hayder had decided she wasn’t worth the trouble.

Then again, only a suicidal idiot would start a war on Lycan turf for a woman.

Funny, I was beginning to think he was that kind of idiot, an idiot who actually cared for me.

As the minutes passed and rescue seemed less and less likely, the men in the truck began to relax. Their brash nature reasserted itself in the form of taunts.

“Did you really think you could leave the pack?”

“My dad always said women were as dumb as sheep.”

“When I win the spot of alpha, you’ll beg to suck my dick.”

All kinds of vile words they flung at her. None of them touched her. She hid in a cocoon, a room built inside her mind that she fled to when things got too rough, except this time she wasn’t alone.

A furry shape sat in a corner.

What are you doing here?

A shaggy head tilted and perused her psychic presence.
Why are you here? Have you given up?

Arabella gave the equivalent of a mental shrug.
What else can I do? I’m outnumbered and on our way to who knows where.

Find a way to escape.

Escape? A derisive snort almost slipped out.

Don’t give up.

Says the wolf that has been hiding for years. You’re not in a position to talk. You gave up and left me alone.

Didn’t give up. Went away. For your safety. You almost died. My fault. No more pain. Our alpha said to go away or he would kill you. I left to save you.

It wasn’t so much words her wolf bombarded her with but a rush of feelings and thoughts. Guilt mostly. Her wolf felt guilty about what had happened to her.

And her wolf blamed herself. Her inner self thought she was the cause of all the pain. Going away was her version of apology, her way of keeping Arabella safe.

But it’s not your fault. He was a mean man, and I wanted to escape too. Hiding yourself away didn’t make things better.

So why was she hiding now? Hiding never helped her all those years. Ignoring the truth kept her trapped in an abusive marriage for much too long. Obeying didn’t stop the slaps. Subservience didn’t make things better. And yet, here she was, falling into her old habit of kowtowing to men who thought they could order her around and treat her as if she was worthless.

Why? Had she not learned? Was she really going to allow these men to harass her without saying a word?

“Enough.” She murmured the word, but it didn’t stop the raunchy conversation consisting of a woman’s duties, most of them sexual in nature.

“I said enough.” Up snapped her head as she growled the words. “You will shut your filthy mouths, or I will shut them for you.”

“Big words from a little bitch. How about I shut you up with my dick instead?”

Filthy pig.

Arabella had spent many years plotting revenge. She’d just never acted upon her plans. She’d watched a lot of television shows, many of them violent. She’d read a lot of books, many of those violent too. She’d learned a few things along the way. Violent things. Things she’d never dared try.

Until now.

The rapid jab of her elbow against a larynx with all the weight she, and her irritation, could manage resulted in a satisfying crunch.

It also gave her the asked-for silence—if one ignored the rattling gasps of the dying man beside her. Of course it wasn’t the crushed throat that had killed him. If tended, the injury could have healed. The broken neck, however—snap!—that proved fatal.

She turned her smile on the skinny fellow beside her who uttered a, “Holy shit!”

“I’m sorry, did you want to say something?”

The pimple-faced boy wisely shook his head and kept his lips clamped. Not so the other men in the truck.

“Why you bitch. I’m going to kill you,” snarled the fellow in the front seat.

She bared her teeth in a grin more feral than pleasant. “Please do. Death is better than what you all have planned. And even nicer because I’ve yet to write a will, which means if you kill me then all that lovely money I have that you’re craving will end up in government hands.”

Apparently, keeping her alive so they could get their grubby hands on her fortune—and not incur the wrath of the Lycan Council, which had coordinated the attack to snare her—was more important at the moment than avenging their friend. A friend they stripped clean of identification and dumped in the woods, dinner for the scavengers.

Arabella thought about running during that brief stop, losing herself in the thin forest. They must have sensed it because the three men, once they disposed of their friend, converged on her, and while they didn’t truly hurt her—
oh but I hurt them. Those teeth marks might need stiches—
the prick of a needle sent her sinking into black oblivion.

When next she woke, she’d gone from a truly awful situation to something out of a freaking B-movie nightmare.

I’m trapped.
More than trapped, she was being presented as a sacrifice.

It seemed, during her slumber, they’d arrived at their destination. While she’d never been—being a woman and all—she’d heard of the location. Arianrhod’s Meadow, the sacred open-air field smack-dab in the middle of a protected forest featuring the gnarly mother tree that legend said began all life on this continent. Located somewhere in the mountains of some national park, the large clearing was filled with fragrant clover and held just the one massive tree—a tree she was chained to. This sacred spot was where the Lycans went when important matters needed resolution and only neutral ground would do.

Look at me, so important.
So special they didn’t want her to miss a thing. That must explain why they felt a need to tie her to the tree, and not just tie, but chain.

Metal rattled as she yanked at her arms. However, the silver cuffs, which burned and itched the skin of her wrists, held her securely. They’d left her legs free. However, that didn’t do her much good. She couldn’t exactly run somewhere nor was there anyone close enough for her to kick.

The good news was she wasn’t the focus of attention of the hundred or so wolves gathered. All men. And way too many for one place.

There was a reason why most male wolves lived in small packs or chose a loner lifestyle. Too much testosterone in one place always resulted in violence.

Except tonight’s violence was planned. Condoned even. As she took an interest in her surroundings, Arabella noted the speaker in the center of the clover-carpeted meadow. She might never have met the man, but she could guess who he was, one of the elders who helped make the decisions on the Lycan Council. The elderly man wore only an unadorned black robe, a simple garb to shuck when the time came to set his wolf free. The hood pooled around his shoulders, revealing the thinning hair on his scalp and the uncompromising lines in his face.

As if sensing her regard, he cast a glance her way. One look at his cold, dark eyes and she knew there would be no compassion granted by him. He was old-school Lycan all the way. Had to be because only a man stuck in the olden ways would agree with this barbaric madness.

Turning from her, the councilman addressed the crowd. “Welcome to the sacred meadow, my brothers. While it has been a while since we’ve spilled blood in this field, a gap in leadership and a need for divine intervention has made a trial by combat necessary. But we aren’t afraid of a little blood and sweat.” Cheers met his words. “Even though the skirmish has not yet begun, already our precious moon goddess shines her approval on us. She stands witness for the upcoming battle for the next leader of the Northern Lakes Pack.” More whistles and cheers.

What a load of crap. While she’d heard of the ritual battle for alpha, Arabella had never seen it. No woman ever did.

Lycans were still a very male-based society. They made the rules. They enforced them. Or at least they did in the packs she knew on the East Coast. But after having seen Arik’s pride, she had to wonder if perhaps things were different elsewhere. She certainly hadn’t been raised to think of herself as inferior. Then again, she didn’t learn about pack life until her parents could hide the truth no longer.

Arabella had grown up in suburbia, a normal child of yuppie parents, normal that was until she hit her teens and the truth came out.

Waking up in the garden with vague wispy memories of chasing rabbits—and catching one, gag—led her running to her mother, the sobs and panic making her incoherent.

But her mother knew what had happened. “Darling, you’re a werewolf.” Funny how those words still had the power to echo with import even all these years later. Most girls got pads—with wings—when they got their period, she got a crash course in how her life would change.

Being out of the pack loop didn’t mean her parents didn’t teach her and Jeoff the fundamentals of pack existence. They knew of the Lycan groups, and the shifter council, as well as the laws that governed them.

Those strictures and a dislike of pack life were what had led to her parents leaving in the first place after Jeoff was born. They tried to warn her that pack life might not be a good fit, that she was better off living on the outside.

Silly Arabella thought living with her own kind sounded grand, hence another part of the reason why she’d jumped on Harry’s offer of marriage.

“Marry me and come join my pack. Be with your own kind. Never hide what you are. Be with me.” All the right words.

How could she say no when he promised her what she wanted? A place she could belong and be herself.

Wrong.

But there was no use lamenting over the past. Only the now counted, a now that saw men shrugging off clothes and entering the centuries-old, makeshift outdoor ring.

None of them looked at her, yet she studied them. One of these men would own her before the night was over.

It made her sick to her stomach.

I’ll fight before I let anyone claim me again.

She pulled at the chains holding her, but they were no looser than before. The fighting was about to begin. The contenders lined up, and the elderly councilman announced them by name, pack, and current rank to the watching crowd. Some got cheers. Others jeers.

Each of them said the same ritual words declaring their intent. “I challenge those present for the next position of alpha.”

Those vying for position of alpha ranged in age and size, from the young and smooth-skinned wiry type to the older barrel-chested fellow whom she recognized as Fergus, an alpha of a small pack in the country who’d already gone through four wives.

She couldn’t help but shudder, only partially from the cold.

Night had fully fallen, and the soothing rays of the moon no longer bathed her skin, as it currently hid behind a cloud. Even if cloaked, she could feel its pull, the silvery voice that sang
Run with me. Run. Fly. Free.

It had been years since she’d last truly heard the moon’s siren song, a sign her wolf was close to the surface. Back. And just in time for the end.

With the moon not sharing its silvery glow, things were delayed as lights were installed around the perimeter. No one wanted to miss the action.

A healthy respect for the forest, and their own skin, meant the Lycans used electric torches instead of real flame ones. The evenly spaced glow of a few dozen battery-powered lanterns wasn’t enough to disperse all the shadows. The large clearing boasted dark crevices and pockets of darkness around its outer edges, spots that could hide anything, like a man, with eyes of molten gold, a mien of fierce determination, shoulders wide with pride, and a swagger fit for a king.

Before anyone could react to Hayder’s presence, he spoke, his voice ringing powerfully. But more astonishing was what he said.

“I challenge those present for the next position of alpha.”