Rescued & Ravished: An Alpha's Conquest (A Paranormal Ménage Romance) (36 page)

“Ah, Hunter,” Catríona said, too knowingly. “I wanted to talk about that.”

“Wait, no.” Ginger flushed.
How does she know?! Does everyone know?! I can’t deal with that conversation.
“Answer my question first!”

Cat gazed at her unreadably. Finally, she said, “He died.”

“Died?” Ginger asked, shocked. “How?”

Cat waved away the question. “Some other time.”

“But—”

“What will you do, when you leave here?” Cat cut in.

“When I…?”

“Mm-hm. I bet Dane would retain you, if you wanted that.” Her eyes narrowed. “You could keep working for him. He’s soft for you. It’s obvious to me, now.”

“If it’s obvious to you, then it must be obvious to your elders.” Ginger felt sick.

“No. Riona, maybe. Torin. The others don’t know him as well.”

“But you can—can see it, it’s—”

“Yes, well, I’ve managed to get friendly with the great man, haven’t I? The change in him is obvious, if you’re near enough.” She shifted in her chair. “Don’t be afraid. He won’t let anything hap—”

“I keep hearing that,” Ginger broke in, her voice tart. “‘Don’t worry, Ginger.’ ‘Don’t be afraid.’ ‘You’ll be safe.’ ‘Nothing’s going to happen.’ Meanwhile, I’m actually not a total moron. I know where I am and what the stakes are. I’ve seen… frightening things, here… and I know I’m not valuable to your people.”

Cat was watching her closely.

“I’m going to a fucking terrifying, incomprehensible trial tonight. Honestly, it’s clear to me that there are interests in this—society—that will be served if Dane can be discredited, and I’m a convenient way to do that. He has enemies on the council, doesn’t he? He’s mentioned it, indirectly… and so have you. And there’s Gunnar, of course, and his people—they’re enemies too. And there’s the damning fact that he’s actually guilty of having affection for me.

“Look, Cat,” she said, crossing her arms, “I know I could die. I’m afraid. I don’t know what to do with that information. I tried to run and I super, super failed—I did the best I could under my own power. Now I’m in Dane’s hands, and I trust him, but this isn’t about what he wants. I’m scared, and I’m in danger. Don’t lie to me about it.”

There was a long, quiet minute. The kitchen wall clock ticked. The sound of rain, gentle as breath, filled the silence.

“I’m not lying to you,” Catríona said finally. “Dane just won’t let anything happen to you. It’s as simple as that.”

“You have a lot of faith in him.”

“He should be Alpha. That means he’s strong enough for my faith.”

Ginger sighed. “I’m starting to get this world, you know? Like, it’s making more sense to me, in a weird-ass way. I’m not really sure how I feel about that, mind, since you people are off your rockers. Crazy. Primordial.”

Catríona smiled. “Don’t worry. You can’t really understand us, the way that you are—human. You’ll stay sane.” She rose. “I’m going to put the dishes in the dishwasher, hm?”

“Sure. I’ll help.”

“No. Sit.”

Catríona’s voice was so firm that she did, putting a foot on the rim of her chair and wrapping her arms around the knee. “Tell me about your family, Cat.”

“Sure, if you tell me about yours.”

“Okay. I have a brother, working in China. And a mom and a dad, of course. They’re back in Boston. Your turn.”

Cat threw a sarcastic look over her shoulder, loading up plates. “That wasn’t exactly worthy of Joyce…”

“Yeah, I’m not a storytelling genius; it’s a tragedy but we’ll survive. Tell me about your people now.”

“Well…” Cat gathered her cherry-red hair up into a ponytail. Her tall, ectomorphic body looked especially slight with her arms up. “I’ve an older sister, Eimhir. She has a man, Fingal, and together they have a mess of children—she’s birthed more than one litter, big ones, too. Scarily fertile woman.” She started loading again. “So there’s all my nieces and nephews, too. Love ’em. I really do. And there’s my man, Angus. Our parents, they’re back home… didn’t come to the Gathering this year. It’s all old news for them, I suppose.”

“They all sound nice.”

Catríona laughed, that feisty laugh she had. “They are.
I
wouldn’t tell them so, but…”

Suddenly her head snapped up. She froze, as if she’d heard something.

“What?” Ginger asked, disturbed, her good mood fizzling away. But she got no answer.

Outside, there was the abrupt, unpleasant sound of saplings and underbrush ripping and giving way—the passage of big animals. Catríona came to the table, gripped Ginger’s arm, and hauled her to her feet.

“Cat? What’s happening? Cat!”

She was dragged into the living room, pushed onto a couch, and left there while Catríona went to the door. Not feeling particularly obedient, Ginger immediately popped up and followed her.

But when she got to the open door and looked through, over Catríona’s shoulder, she wished she had stayed put.

Outside, two black bears and a grizzly were lumbering across the clearing. They came to a halt right at the base of the porch, glowering, frightening. Ginger recognized one of them, at least—the sway-backed, coarse-furred black bear. It was Gunnar.

“Dane MacAlister’s not here,” Catríona said, her voice arctic-cold. “Go as you came.”

The bears twisted up, transformatively, into three people.

“I am not here for him,” Gunnar said, leering; Ginger hated the sound of his voice. She couldn’t help but remember the night he’d caught her alone, the things he’d said, the way he’d touched her—squeezing her hip, her breast.
“You tempt me… fertile. Supple… would you prefer to be my consort?”

The next thing he said made ice of her heart.

“I’m here for her. The girl.”

“The girl?” Catríona sounded nakedly stunned—blindsided. She turned to look at Ginger, ponytail flipping, then she turned back to the bears. “What is this girl to you?”

“I’ve come to claim her.” Gunnar smiled, pleased to reveal nothing.

“Get off of MacAlister’s turf!” Catríona answered loudly. “You have no right to cross this threshold. Leave!”

“I said it before, did I not? A lawbreaker has no rights. MacAlister forfeited this territory when he coupled with a human woman. Move aside, Mac an Tsaoir!”

“How do you dare?!” Catríona shouted, truly offended, truly horrified. “You can’t come in! This is trespass! You’re in another man’s territory! You violate a sacred rule! Dane MacAlister claimed this land! Begone!”

“I do not respect his claims, woman!”

“Donaghue! Allaway! You can’t accept this?”

But the two strangers with Gunnar were silent. Their faces were closed.

“We’re taking her, Mac an Tsaoir. Move or be struck down!” Gunnar said fiercely.

He bent low to the ground, sprouting fur, his joints cracking back into their ursine alignments. The other two followed suit, and there were three bears again, trudging slowly toward the porch stair.

“Ginger!” Catríona said, urgently. “Run! Go!”

“No! You can’t fight them!”

“You can’t help!
Run
!”

Ginger did run, but only as far as the kitchen.
Weapons! Weapons! There has to be something!

The knife rack.
She heard Catríona scream something, enraged and afraid. Ginger pulled out the biggest knife there was, a blade of pure Scandinavian steel—but, looking at it, she was struck by its futility.
There’s a fucking grizzly out there! It’s a tank! This is a toothpick! I might as well fight it with a nail file!

She slammed the knife down on the counter and went through the cabinets; she left them all open as she searched through them feverishly. There was the sound of furniture breaking in the entry hall, a hoarse roar.

Nothing—pots—no—nothing—

Oh!

A fire extinguisher. A small one, the size of a liter of soda.

This’ll do. It’ll fucking do.

She grabbed it and ran back for Cat. Sweat had broken out all over her body, dampening the back of her shirt.
If only Dane was—

Skidding to a stop in the living room, she gasped.

What she saw was horrible: the two black bears were small enough to fit through the front door, and they were inside the cabin, attacking Catríona at both ends. One had its jaws clamped firmly on her ruff, while the other—Gunnar—was biting the lower curve of her back. She was lowing and snorting, trying to throw them off; the coffee table had been smashed, and one of the couches was on its side.

The sight of the non-Gunnar bear fastened on Cat’s neck burned Ginger’s fear away—just for a second, but just long enough. All she felt was outrage.

You’re about to get it, you filthy bastard!

Unhesitatingly, she pulled the safety pin, unlocking the extinguisher. She aimed for the bear’s face and squeezed the lever.

A spray of gas—carbon dioxide at fifteen-percent concentration—blasted its muzzle with firehose-power. It brayed, letting Catríona go, and—staggering crazily, blindly—crashed into the other sofa. Retching, it dropped spasmodically to the floor; its muzzle was white with foam.

But Cat had inhaled some of the fumes—nonlethal, but incapacitating—and was shivering, flat on her belly. Too dizzy to get up. Too stunned to help.

Ginger aimed the nozzle for Gunnar, but he paw-swiped the extinguisher from her hand before she could squeeze the trigger. It went spinning across the polished floor.

Shit!

He opened his mouth—she saw the whites of his canines—and lunged forward. His jaw closed on her thigh.

She shrieked.

He yanked to the side, unbalancing her, dragging her off her feet; she hit the floor hard. There was no pain—there was too much adrenaline for that—and even though the rush of survival hormones, she was aware it wasn’t as deep a bite as it could be—but there was fear. A lot of fear.

He wasn’t trying to lame her—he just wanted purchase. He just wanted to get her down. And keep her down.

Why? For what?!

Gunnar let go of her leg—there was a horrible sound like a fork being pulled out of chicken—and changed back to a man. He sprang on top of her, smelling like damp places and wet fur, repulsive. She fought him—like a wildcat—but he was surprisingly strong, stronger than his reedy little body would suggest, and the epinephrine and the bleeding bite on her thigh were making her dizzy.

“What do you
want
?” she screamed, struggling.

He caught her wrists, held them down against the once-smooth floor—now it was scored with scratches from bear claws. Splinters prickled the back of her hands.

“You seduced MacAlister. You seduced Beaumont—don’t think I didn’t know, girl. No one could steal from him unless they had turned him into pudding first.”

“Get off of me, you—hideous
tool
—”

“Then you ran. You tried to escape from here. Bold… daring… wily… you’re a resourceful girl. Shrewd. Full of fire. You would suit me well.”

“Ugh!” she shrieked, disgusted. “It would suit me well if someone put you in a woodchipper! You make these people miserable!”

“The foolish ones, yes! The rest I will make strong!” His one clear, unfrosted eye brightened with cold gold. “Would you like to see me do it?”

“Why are you doing this?” She felt tears prick her eyes and hated it, knowing it made her look weak.

“Because I desire you, girl. I desire you.” His mouth was close to hers. “I do. But I will not break our laws. No! Not like MacAlister… not like Beaumont. Weak creatures, both of them!” His grip tightened, whitening her skin. “I adhere to the ancient laws… yes. I am faithful… but I am merciful, too. I will show everyone just how merciful. I will turn you, girl—make you one of us. Then you can be spared. Then you can be mine.”

“You are fucking coocoo bananas,” she hissed, sick with loathing. “Someone should shoot you and mount you in a lodge.”

“None of our women will touch me,” Gunnar breathed, his breath sour with an old-meat bitterness. “They fear me, as any Alpha should be feared. It’s their right to reject me… they come from proud clans… their blood is sterling… they have privileges… but you. You’re no one. You have no clan. If I put the Mark on you, you would have to be mine—no matter what you wanted. No matter how you feel. Who could challenge me if I Marked you? Who could stand for you? You, a clanless girl? You have no one. No one.”

“Dane will kill you.” Of that, she was sure. “Do what you say you’re going to do and he’ll kill you.”

“How can he?” Gunnar laughed, a sound that chilled her to the core with hatred. “It would be proof he loved you, girl, proof he broke our laws with you! If you’re nothing to him, what right would he have to cross fangs with me over this—over binding you to me? You have no protection. I can claim you.” He stared, ogling her. “Kiss me, girl. Bite me.”

“Suck my cock!” she whispered, her voice acid.

“You’re full of salt. That’s fine… we’ll thin it out… turn some of it to sugar… in time…” He leaned down to kiss her.

But—mentally—she’d been running through everything she’d learned in those self-defense classes Laila had dragged her to, the ones at the Y, ages ago. The moves were coming back to her, the
No Means No
s. She remembered them. She could use them.

And she slammed her knee into his crotch. Hard.

He howled, let go of her; she threw him off, and, in a panic, scrabbled to her feet and ran. Her thigh burned, but she ignored it, rushing for the back door in the kitchen; she flung it open and shot into the woods.

“Run! I can track you! I’ll follow you!” Gunnar shrieked. “You invite me to win you in a chase, girl! And I will!”

She collapsed in a patch of lady ferns, panting so hard she thought she might throw up. Her ears buzzed and her vision blurred; the bite in her leg throbbed, bad enough to make her eyes tear.

She’d been running a long time. The rain had stopped and the sky had turned a cool, smoky lilac; it was evening. But still, she heard bears behind her, chasing her. She could hear them even now, parting the huckleberry bushes and the alder seedlings to follow her.

I’m never going to get off this island.

Her hand fisted in the soft, dark earth; the soil was cold, calming, in the center of her palm, digging under her nails.