“It stings,” he said, sounding puzzled and annoyed in equal measure.
What?
“You’ll be gladyouwon’t be wearing it then,” Mercer replied. “Use the bag to pick it up, fool.”
Cruikshank dropped easily to his haunches to pick up the collar, using the hessian bag to shield his fingers from the metal.
Lindsay stared at him, noting the ease of his movements with horror. He glanced at Mercer. “You bithim? Turned him? But—but how? The Urge—”
Mercer’s grin was feral. “Our master promised Cruikshank the bite if he lured you here, and he commanded me to give that bite if Cruikshank kept his side of the bargain.” He laughed. “It seems the Urge can be created by compulsion. Perhaps after this, the master will order me to make more wolves for him.” Lindsay stared at him, appalled, but Mercer continued unabashed. “I must say though, I’m surprised the bite took with that one. He’s decrepit.”
Cruikshank rose fluidly from his crouch, the collar now shielded from his hand by the hessian bag. There was no sign now of the rheumatism that had made his movements so slow and painful before. He spared a look of dislike for Mercer, then turned his attention to Lindsay, a sneering smile on his face. “Mr. MacCormaic tells me he is well-acquainted with ye, Somerville—and very anxious to renew that acquaintance. He told me ye’d come looking for the Naismith papers. Sure enough, ye did—and I didn’t need to stall you for very long before Mr. Mercer here arrived from Perthshire to deal wi’ ye.”
“And thanks to this one,” Mercer added, nodding at Drew, “I didn’t need to wait for our master to get here to get the collar back on you. I knew you’d hand yourself over willingly to save him.”
Anxiety rippled through Lindsay. Anxiety and sense of horrible inevitability. This moment had always been coming. Since the moment Lindsay had escaped MacCormaic’s Keep. Deep inside him, the cur cowered and whimpered, but his wolf stood strong.
His mate needed him.
He didn’t know what Mercer saw on his face, but whatever it was, it seemed to amuse the man. “He stinks of you, you know. As soon as he walked in here, I smelled you on him, and I knew right then I had you. I might not be able to take you down on my own anymore, but you’re such a fucking martyr, I knew you’d want to save him.” Mercer sighed happily. “Ah, Lindsay, this is going to be just like old times. Except this time”—his grin was wide and savage—“this time you know what you’re getting into. You know what wearing that collar means.”
And God, Lindsay did. He knew it all. Knew what it meant to be Duncan’s slave, and that Duncan would make sure he never escaped again. It would be a living death sentence and there was a small part of Lindsay that wanted to do nothing but run. He could fight his way out of this room—Cruikshank would be no challenge and he was confident he could take Mercer. His wolf was stronger now. He could fight his way out, get Francis, try to save Drew.
The only trouble was, Drew had no hope of surviving that fight. The first thing Mercer would do would be to slay him.
Lindsay could not allow that to happen.
Drew was his bond-mate. He knew it with utter certainty now.
“So, it’s me for his life, is it?”
“That’s it,” Mercer agreed cheerfully. “You put on the collar; I let him go. I have a cart waiting at the back of the house and fast horses a mile from here.”
Francis was out front—he’d scent them as soon as they were out, but with Lindsay’s wolf imprisoned by a silver collar, his gentle friend could not take on Mercer alone. Lindsay would have to go with Mercer and hope Francis and Marguerite could track him down later.
Oh God,hope. Hope was almost the cruellest thing of all.
Lindsay swallowed hard, then forced himself to speak. “I’ll need your oath that you’ll let Nicol go.”
“What? No!” That was Cruikshank. They both turned to look at him. “Ye cannae let him go!” he said to Mercer. “Not after all this—he’ll go talking to people, accuse me o’—”
Mercer’s glare was enough to silence him.
Mercer turned back to Lindsay then. “Very well. You have my oath.”
“But—” Cruikshank broke in.
Mercer turned on him, temper flaring and Cruikshank shrank back.
“Say one more word and I’ll bury this blade in you,” Mercer hissed. “I settled with you already. Our deal is done. Anything else you want, is your business. Understand?”
Cruikshank’s gaze was baleful, but he nodded.
“Lindsay—what’s happening?” Drew mumbled. He’d rallied again and was now shaking his head, as though trying to clear it.
“It’s all right,” Lindsay said softly. “You’ll be free in a minute.”
“What? Why?”
