A connection I prayed they could use to track me down.
I had no doubt they would come for me, which allowed me to remain calm as I sank onto the mildewy couch beside my newest kidnapper. This shit was getting really fucking old, but how was I supposed to fight against magic that shouldn’t exist?
My fingers twitched for the first time, and I was jolted with the knowledge that the spell might be wearing off. Forcing myself not to react or give away this little development, I was excited when Chelsea’s head dropped back, mouth open as she breathed deeply.
This was my first real chance to escape, but no matter how hard I tried to force my limbs to move, I couldn’t do much more than wiggle my fingers. Inch by inch, I started to flex them against my palm, and after twenty minutes of sweating, panicking, and internally cursing, my right hand could move. Then my left. My wrists proved to be harder, so I focused on sock-clad toes, excited when most of them wiggled.
The spell was definitely wearing off, starting with my outer limbs, which led me to believe that eventually it would dissipate completely.
I’d just gotten my wrists and ankles rotating when I heard a bike, and what sounded like two cars pull up out the front.
No!No, no… I needed more time. I was so damn close.
Frantically, I pushed harder against the spell, and managed to straighten my legs as the front door opened. My first attempt to stand was premature and failed miserably, sending me tumbling to the floor, where I barely caught myself before I face-planted.
“Omega.” The drawled word sent ice through my veins. I’d know Blaine’s slimy voice anywhere. “Nice of you to make this easy for us. Just sprawled there, ready for the taking.”
Unlike the last time he’d ambushed me, I refused to let my panic take me over. There was no Slade here to save me, which meant it was up to me to keep my wits and get out of this situation. If I didn’t escape, I’d be claimed and drained by the Rogers pack, until I wished for death like my mother.
Blaine clutched my ponytail, yanking my head up until my scalp shrieked in pain. Hetsked as he hauled me to my feet and back on the couch. “You look a right old mess, princess. Is that any way to meet your mate?”
If this entire ploy was for Blaine to claim me as a mate, then I’d rather die—it was an undeniable truth that I’d acknowledged and accepted years ago. I’d choose death every day before bonding to this evil pack.
As anger sent a burst of energy through me, my shoulders twitched, and Blaine noticed, dark eyes locking on the movement. “Alpha,” he shouted, “you might want to get in here. The spell is wearing off.”
Alpha?He was the entitled alpha in his pack, so there was no one who ranked above him…
Loud footsteps echoed down the hall, and a beat later an older shifter entered the living room. He was tall and imposing, with olive skin, pure white hair to his shoulders, and dark eyes which were vaguely familiar. There was no way I’d ever met him before. I’d remember a shifter essence as strong as his, which rivaled the alphas in my pack.
His shrewd gaze caressed my features, and I felt vaguely dirty when he was done. “Well, well. Emmeline Anders. You’ve been difficult to track down.”
Those words were an almost exact repeat of what Blaine had said when they captured me last time. Did the Rogers pack kidnap me for this alpha? Was he my bad guy in the shadows all along?
My throat and voice remained frozen behind the spell, but I was able to inch my way back on the couch, trying to avoid the white-haired alpha as he stepped closer. “I’ve been experimenting for many years with shifters and our dominance hierarchy.” He gazed, unblinking, at me. “Omegas always eluded me though. There weren’t enough of you to experiment with or break open to learn how you work. They were all so fragile.” He tilted his head. “Well, at least not until your mother.”
Blaine grinned lasciviously, licking his lips as if he could still taste the omega he murdered. “That was one fun experiment.”
My stomach swirled, and bile coated my throat, sticking due to the spell.
“It’s all going to change now,” the white-haired shifter said, crouching down until we were eye to eye. “I might have failed fifteen years ago, but this time I’ll have enough power to controlallthe packs andallthe witches. As it should have always been.”
Fifteen years ago…?Was he referring to the last great war? Was this the alpha who’d been the nameless, faceless evil working with the Termaine witches?
Blaine’s eyes widened, and the way he looked at the white-haired male was nothing short of worship. “Yes, Father,” he breathed. “You should be the entitled alpha of all shifters, and not these small, insignificant quintets. The power is spread far too thin.”
The alpha nodded, but I was stuck on two points: one, Blaine called himfather, and I wondered if that was where his familiarity came from. And two, they were attempting to gather enough power to turn back the clock to when the packs were governed by one alpha rather than in quintets—before the councils, when a single alpha had the power to make thousands of shifters suffer.
It was a flawed system we could never return to.
White Hair leaned in closer and sniffed my throat, and I flinched into the couch. “You smell like my son. Bonded to him, I see.”
In my confused state, I turned my gaze to Blaine, but he shook his head. “Oh, not me, princess. My half-brother… his other son. Hunter Reeves?—”
A backhand knocked Blaine halfway across the room, and anger creased the older shifter’s face as he hissed, “Davenport. He is andalways will beHunter Davenport. No matter what he calls himself now.”
Holy fuck. Holy fucking fuck.
The pieces I’d been missing for all of this to make sense crashed into me with the force of a wrecking ball. White Hair was Hunter’s father… And Blaine’s.
