Page 7 of Plug and Tame

But she could tell from Byron’s expression that he already knew. She jabbed an accusatory finger at him, her voice a low warning growl. “Tell me this is all some sick joke.”

He was the only person she wanted to hear from. He was the person she trusted most in the entire world. Mary had always treated her warmly, but Byron had more empathy than anyone she knew. Every girl needed a father. And he was hers. Even if he wasn’t her biological father. He was her person.

Byron grew ashen-faced, his fists clenching as he turned to Nathaniel. But rather than tear the vampire a new one, he pleaded. “Please, allow me to tell her, Nathaniel.”

Her insides boiled to see the large man with his tail between his legs, taking his orders from the Vampire Prince he was supposed to hate.

Nathaniel shook his head. “No. It will be better if I show her.”

Kira threw him the middle finger and turned to Byron, her voice rising in pitch as she beseeched him. “Byron, you tried to talk me out of leading a revolution.”

“I did,” he admitted. “I pitied the road ahead of you. I wanted you to have a peaceful life.”

“Byron, you’ve always had a tender heart,” Mary chimed in.

Kira’s jaw muscles tensed, her teeth growing sore from clenching. She had absolutely nothing to say to Mary, the woman who had taught her how to bake and hunt in the woods. Nothing at all.

She turned tearful eyes to Byron in one last attempt to find the man she’d looked up to. It was a struggle to speak from the tight knot in her throat. “The revolution was my idea.”

“No,” Mary said, “It was ours. We prepared you from a young age, telling you stories about the revolution, and the wolves and vampires involved—”

“I remember,” Kira said tightly, cutting her off. She got the picture, she really did, even if it was actually millions of pictures, the memories flashing through her mind faster and faster until she felt queasy. She would have to sit down and reflect on her entire fucking childhood to retroactively identify those tiny moments of betrayal.

Silence.

Everyone was looking at her, waiting for her to speak. Nathaniel hadn’t moved except to fold his arms inside his cloak. Was he cold? Not that she fucking cared.

“Kira,” Nathaniel began, “Please, come sit down by the fire. Allow me a chance to explain. The plan is so much bigger than us.”

“Us,” Kira repeated softly. The word encompassed three people she would never in her wildest dreams have imagined would work together to deceive her: her foster parents, and him.

“You’re part of this, too,” Nathaniel said.

“No,” she sniffed, wiping her eyes with a damp sleeve. “I’m not.”

“Kira, please. Stop.”

She ignored him and took another step back. “Fuck. You.”

“Kira…” Nathaniel warned, his voice growing low and threatening. “Do not run.”

She didn’t reply. There were no insults left inside of her. ‘Fuck you’ really said it all. It was time to leave, and even her wolf forms could not run fast enough to leave this tumultuous day behind. She spun on her heel, the wolf hairs already sprouting on her forearms as golden light whirled around her—but she never had the chance to morph.

As fast as lightning, Nathaniel threw something at her—a length of thin rope he’d been hiding beneath his cloak.

The rope covered the distance between them, flying over her head. She shrieked and managed to dodge it, fleeing the campsite on foot.

She’d been forced to run towards the base of the cliffs. Was she trapped?

Noticing a small cave between two large boulders, she shot towards it with escape firmly in mind.

At the last second, Byron stepped in front of her and she slammed into his chest, reeling from the impact.

Traitor!

Stunned, Kira tried to regain her balance, her vision distorting. A second later, she was running, but a loop of rope flashed above her, and she wasn’t fast enough this time. It tightened around her neck, constricting her airway. Firm hands seized her shoulders from behind.

“Do not struggle, or the lasso will tighten,” Nathaniel spoke in her ear, dragging her back against his chest.