The walls were made of stone, and the ceiling was a sloped piece of glass, giving the impression of being inside a half-dome. It was as if someone had taken one of those destination globes I'd seen at the airport and bisected it with a sedimentary stone wall. But instead of snow or glitter, there was conditioned air and intuitive lights that dimmed and brightened with the sun.
I could tell from the glass door that had opened for the Irish Kings, but not for us, that this place was meant to be some kind of habitat. Whoever created this space had done so with its inhabitants' comfort in mind. The domed-in cavern featured cozy double-occupancy bedrooms with bathroom facilities behind every sliding door of its four landings.
On the main floor, a set of double sliding doors led into what I could only describe as a cave kitchen filled with electric appliances and plenty ofdishware.
The cave kitchen had a huge metal fridge, a walk-in freezer, and a pantry stocked with enough food for the fifty-plus she-wolves the Irish Wolves had kidnapped from Scotland. Everything gleamed like new, including a wooden island with a granite countertop, but there was no smell of cleaning products.
None of the appliances had visible energy sources — no plugs or dials — just strange symbols glowing red on touch screens that didn’t leave fingerprints.
There were also windows in the kitchen that well… weren't quite windows. Last night, they looked out onto a starry sky over a snowy field; this morning, a sunrise over mountains and a narrow body of water. The picture-perfect view literally kept changing.
Most eerie of all, most of the seemingly inanimate objects in the cave kitchen vibrated with a strange force as if powered by an invisible energy field. Was that strange vibration also keeping the appliances, like photo-shoot-level clean?
I’d hoped to explore more of the habitat, but sadly, with Amanda’s heats coming in increasingly short intervals, I hadn’t had enough time or focus to investigate further.
I swear I’d never been so tired in my life. Even calving and lambing seasons were easier than this, I groused to myself as I trudged through the double doors into a front room filled with agitated she-wolves.
“Is breakfast ready yet?” Miriam, the foxy Wölfennite, demanded when I passed by her and the rest of the wolves waiting at the hodgepodge of quilts, couches, chairs, and various kinds of tables that we’d gathered into an eating area during one of the breaks from Amanda’s heat episodes.
“It's almost ready," I answered. "Could one of you help Orpah dish it out in the kitchen?"
Suddenly, Miriam wasn't quite as eager to get my attention. She averted her eyes.
Leah, a Wölfennite with a broad waist and shoulders, jumped up from one of the couches to volunteer. "I'll do it!"
She headed toward the kitchen, grumbling, “Maybe the smell won’t be so bad in there.”
I didn’t have the heart to warn her that the heat smell cut through everything. Even metal doors.
I glanced at the curved observation window which had remained free of panting wolves with their faces pinned to the glass since I took Amanda upstairs. By order of the Pirate King, I suspected, even though I’d kicked him and both of Amanda’s would-be mates out.
If all of this wasn't his fault in the first place, I might have even been grateful.
“I'm ravenous," one of the Scottish she-wolves complained, pulling my attention back to the room full of she-wolves waiting for breakfast. "Not that it matters. The food will most likely taste off with our noses all a jumble like this.”
I couldn’t disagree. I’d been hungry when I went to help Fiona in the kitchen, but it was hard to think about eating — or anything else, really — with Amanda’s heat lingering in the air like a thick cloud of smoke.
The heat scent appeared to also be an appetite suppressant, I noted as I made my way up the stairs. All thoughts of hunger disappeared as I approached Amanda's room, and that tingling disgust flared up in my lower belly again.
“How long will this last, Naomi?” Miriam called after me as if Ihadn’t received the same amount of wolf sex education as she had. Which was basically none at all.
A Scottish she-wolf ended up answering in my stead.
“Till she gets seeded with a bairn or she dies from the wanting. Whichever comes first.”
The dire prediction sent a shiver up my back.
I would never have wished this kidnapping on my older sister, but not for the first time since this ordeal began, I found myself aching for her advice on how to handle… all of this.
Oh God, Tara.
The panic I’d been keeping at bay with fits of sleep and the determination to keep the other kidnapped she-wolves calm and fed began to claw its way back as I thought of my heavily pregnant sister. She must be terrified and frantic back in Scotland.
Would I ever see her again? What if I couldn’t figure out a way to get us out of this strange prison?
Another wave of Amanda’s heat pulled me away from those despondent thoughts, and somewhere I found the energy to speed up the stairs to see what I could do to help Amanda.
At least she wasn't screaming like last night when her downright vulgar pleas for relief had echoed through the domed cavern.
