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Keira’s body was on fire; she twisted and writhed, trying to find a position—any position—that offered even a little comfort from the blazing tingle of pain that lit up her nervous system. The flogging had been even more brutal than she’d expected. Harold had beaten her with willow—bad enough, with its water association, especially after three days of being bound in silver—and then someone in the clan had packed the wounds with violet oil, just to increase the pain. The oils had seeped into her skin, burning their way into her system, almost poisoning her.
No one came to see her, locked away in Harold’s garage; she received meals from an impassive member of the Clan twice a day, but no one looked at her. She was being shunned, left to recover slowly, disconnected from the pulse of the clan’s thoughts in a misery of loneliness. It’ll be worse when they realize you’re pregnant, Keira thought absently, curling in on herself and hugging her knees. She wasn’t sure how long it had been since her flogging; she only knew that it had been more than a week since the clan had grabbed her from the flophouse. The pregnancy was early—her pheromones hadn’t yet shifted, Keira thought, or someone would have commented on it—but she could sense it, somehow; there was a full feeling deep down between her hips, and her period hadn’t arrived on its usual day.
You have to get out of here before they find out, Keira thought, as firmly as her wandering, wondering mind would allow. If they find out you’re pregnant with a wolf’s child, you’ll be killed outright. For that matter, where was Raul? Keira groaned as she reached for his mind, trying to find the tenuous, flickering thread of his thoughts in the humming abyss. She couldn’t focus enough to connect with him, though she still had random glimmers; just enough to know he was still alive, that he was occasionally conscious and aware. She knew that he’d felt the pain of her beating—she had felt his trembling reaction in her own mind—but they hadn’t had enough opportunity to be able to reliably stay in contact.
A fleeting, but all too vivid feeling of gnawing, stabbing hunger clenched Keira’s stomach; she gritted her teeth, breathing slowly. It was Raul—she knew it to be his mind, his sensations, his feeling of hunger, infecting her through their bond. Someone is starving him. Dull, throbbing anger began to simmer in Keira’s bones, and she heard herself growling in a low, continuous warning. Anyone who came near her in that moment courted a shredded hand, if not a destroyed arm. We have to make these bastards pay, Keira thought. No—we have to take Harold and Reginald out. The rest… she shook her head, ignoring the pain that flared through her body as the movement upset the injuries she’d sustained.
They hadn’t bothered to bind her tightly—there was only the minimum of hold on her. In her weakened state, Keira knew that even the light, loose binds on her body—chains made of iron, tied to earth rather than water—were too much for her to overcome. The earth energy of the chains slowed her healing just as much as the violet oil in her skin did. I need to convince someone to douse me with water. I need to convince them to unchain me somehow. I need to get the hell out of here as soon as I can.
Keira felt the bond between herself and Raul waver, ebb, wax, and then—with a jolt—all input from it was gone. She gasped, groping mentally, trying to focus enough to get some kind of impulse from him, some indication that he was aware and awake and there, where she needed him, in her mind; nothing came to her, and Keira groaned, burying her face against her shackled arms, shuddering even as the pain rippled through her body in reaction to her movement. Raul wasn’t dead—that much she knew—but the contact between them was gone.
Hot, stinging tears formed in her eyes, and Keira tried to stifle her sobs as they rose in her throat. They won’t have to try and make me lure him in, she thought grimly. The contact is gone. He’s…he’s gone. She didn’t know where Raul was, but he wasn’t in her mind; he couldn’t feel her, and she couldn’t feel him.
Keira shivered, hot and cold flashes lighting up her nervous system as she reacted to the sudden absence of Raul’s presence in her thoughts. She couldn’t think of what could sever even the tenuous link between their minds—it had to have been some kind of magic, something to cancel their bond. That must have been why they were starving Raul; to make him do something to break the bond between them, to bring him back into the fold. With her bond with Raul gone, there would be no reason for Harold to let her recover; there would be no reason to keep her alive in the hope of getting revenge on the wolves. With her dead, and Raul back in the Pack’s good graces once more, the wolves would decimate the panther clan; Raul would have no reason to hold back. Keira couldn’t even bring herself to regret it. Her own people had turned against her; she couldn’t make herself want to protect them if they wouldn’t side with her.
Time passed without Keira knowing how long it was, lost in the miasma of her grief. She heard footsteps—fast, but unsteady—outside of the garage. It wasn’t a member of the clan, that much she knew; her senses were duller than normal, but she sniffed at the air, trying to figure out who or what was approaching.
The door to the garage opened and Keira turned her head, interested in an absent way. It’s one of the wolves, come to kill me. They’re doing Harold a favor. She caught the scent of an unfamiliar wolf—and then, like a white-hot jolt of electricity through her brain, she caught a scent she knew all too well: Raul.
“W-what?” Keira rubbed at her eyes, clearing the lingering tears out of them; at that, she couldn’t quite believe what she saw. Raul limped quickly into the garage, another wolf at his side.
“Good thing it’s iron,” the other wolf said. “Easy to take care of.”
“Oh, god—Keira…” Raul dropped down next to her and kissed her hungrily on the lips. “We have to get out of here fast. Can you move?” Keira shivered.
“For you, Fido? I can run,” she said, smiling weakly.