Chapter Seventeen
A sharp point of a dagger poked Kele’s side. “Stay in civil form and you won’t have any trouble from us.” The vampire holding her eased the sword from her throat. Even if she could shift faster than he could stab her, she couldn’t defeat Timothy. Not after what she’d just witnessed. The cat shifter would probably be able to beat her father…
Her breath hitched. Would she ever be able to think of her parents without a searing burn in her chest?
Timothy had chained Peder to a thick wooden pole on the other side of the compound. The shifters in the pen gathered by the bars. Their solemn faces told her they’d witnessed this before. Her imagination suddenly grew vivid and crazed.
They can’t do anything to me that hasn’t already been done, whispered a ghost of Peder’s voice in her head.
The guard keeping her hostage guided her closer to Peder’s hanging form.
Her feet dragged as if made of stone until he shoved her from behind, propelling her closer than she wished. This was all her fault. If she’d just kept a better rein on her temper and not attacked that touchy-feely vampire, Peder would be safe within the pen.
She almost snorted. How could she consider the pen safe? As long as Timothy controlled their fates, they’d never be out of danger.
Behind Peder, Timothy sorted through what appeared to be tools on a table. He hummed to himself. What was he going to use them for? This didn’t seem the time to build or fix anything. She searched the yard for enlightenment. Then it dawned on her. Those weren’t tools used to fix things. One didn’t need pokers and pincers to repair cages or wagons.
Holding up a multitailed whip, Timothy skirted the area until he faced Peder. “Have you ever been whipped with something like this?” He snapped the cat-o’-nine-tails, just missing flesh.
Peder didn’t even flinch. He stared at Timothy with eyes gone dead.
“I can’t let your behavior go unpunished.” He twirled the whip in his hand before setting it aside, choosing a long, thin, flexible stick.
A cane.
How could she breathe a sigh of relief at the sight? But she did. That awful whip was tipped with small hooks to rip the flesh. The cane would only leave bruises.
Her nostrils flared and her limbs shook. Why Goddess? Peder had the kindest soul she’d ever encountered. She wanted to wrap him around her like a thick blanket and let his heat sink deep inside her.
Timothy struck, keeping most of the hits on the outside of Peder’s legs. The solid slap of wood against skin echoed in the silent compound.
She’d been a fool to think it wouldn’t cause as much damage. The cane left long welts that crisscrossed his skin. In a few places, his skin seemed split from the constant impact.
The tremors in her arms grew worse and her guard tightened his grip. She clenched her teeth as the sound of the beating grew louder and Timothy worked his way higher.
Peder never made a sound. That tore her apart more than any scream.
Peder breathed, forcing the air in and out of his lungs when instinct wanted him to hold his breath.
The pain wasn’t part of him.
In the dark, behind his eyes, he closed a mental door. He hadn’t hidden in this space in years. How easy it had been to find his way back.
Smack, smack, smack. The sound carried a stirring beat.
His pulse slowed as the darkness swallowed him and let his body absorb the sting of the cane. He had endured worse, but he was out of practice. When Timothy hit his ribs, he couldn’t stop the flinch. The cat shifter must have seen it since he returned to the spot frequently.
Someone was screaming. The sound came from a distance as if from a long tunnel. They shouted one thing over and over. He wished they’d stop. It shook his control more than the caning.
“Peder.” Kele’s voice, so raw as if she’d been shouting through a veil of tears, slipped passed his door. “Peder.” It sounded weaker this time. “Please stop, Timothy. Please.”
His mental hidey-hole faded and he opened his eyes.
Kele struggled against her guard. The vampire’s arms clung to her and kept her from reaching him. A dagger lay on the ground at her feet as if had been dropped. Tears streamed down her face. “Stop it.” Her bottom lip shook.
Timothy withheld his next strike, but Peder’s body still tensed waiting for the blow. The cat shifter watched Kele with a smug smile. “Let her go.”
They released her so fast Kele fell forward. She hurried toward him.
The hit on his tender flank came much harder than the others, and it shocked a loud groan from him. Kele didn’t understand people like Timothy—those who enjoyed inflicting pain, and how he was using her to feed his hunger.
She fell to her knees at Peder’s feet and stroked his aching leg. It wasn’t a submissive move though—it was so much more. It was his mate suffering. His beautiful, proud Kele shed tears for him. Something he hadn’t dared even dream. She cared.
Hanging her head, she whispered, “Please stop it. I’ll do anything.”
“No.” It left his lips before he could stop his idiotic response. His gaze snapped to Timothy’s in hope he hadn’t heard him, but a sparkle of triumph reflected back.
The cat shifter dropped the cane and approached Kele, kneeling at her side. With a gentle hand, he petted her long, blonde hair. “Such unusual coloring for a shifter in these parts. I’ve seen it more in your northern cousins.”
She sniffed and clung to Peder’s ankle, her nails marking his flesh with half-moons.
Timothy pried her fingers open and led her away until Peder had a good view of them both. He tossed her onto her knees and lifted her dress over her hips.
“No.” Damn it, he’d said it again.
“She said she’d do anything.”
“You’re in feral form. You’ll tear her in half.” With his thrashing to get free, he swung at the end of the rope. Blood trickled from his wrists, making them slick. He cared too much and it showed. Foolish, foolish heart. He doomed her.
“You act mated.” He buried his nose in Kele’s hair. “But you don’t smell it. I do smell you all over her, Goldie. Is this a sudden romance blooming in my slave pen?”
Kele remained very still at Timothy’s feet. Goddess only knew what would happen to her if she fought more or ran. He couldn’t bear the idea of Timothy fucking her.
The cat shifter ran his palm over her sleek ass cheek. “What would you do, Peder, to save her?” Timothy used his name. Any hope to remain hidden from notice among a group of shifters vanished for good.
He relaxed. Timothy didn’t want her. He really wanted him. That was something he could handle. He was already so damaged. How many times could something broken be fixed before it just looked shattered, no matter the angle? “Name it.”
Timothy’s chuckle rolled in deep waves. He pulled Kele’s dress back over her hips and gestured to the guards. “Place her back in the pen unharmed.” He then strolled toward him. “Have you heard about our underground fighting rings?”
He shook his lowered head.
Timothy grabbed his chin and made him meet his soulless cat gaze. “You might be worth even more than Huan bargained for your pretty pelt. Maybe you can focus that rage in the ring for me tonight? If you win, you keep her untouched. If you lose, you watch me and my men take turns with your sweet-natured mate.”
Jerking his head from Timothy’s grip, he snarled. “What sort of fighting?”
“Shifter challenges. You win and you keep her.”
“What do you get out of this?”
Timothy rolled his eyes. “Wolves. Money, and I think you will make me a great deal of it.”
With a sinking heart, he nodded. It didn’t matter what Timothy got in return. He didn’t see how he could make money from shifters fighting, but who cared as long as it gave Kele some protection?
Timothy lowered his arms. “Feed and water him well. He needs to recover for tonight.”
The guards walked him to the pen, where a crowd waited at the door. Shouting at everyone to get back, the guards poked their batons through the bars until the area was clear enough to let him in.
With a deadening noise, the lock fell into place as he faced his fellow shifters.
Kele raced into his arms with a fierce hug.
“My ribs,” he groaned.
She let him go and guided him to their pallet and helped him lie down. “Get him some water,” she ordered no one in particular.
A water skin appeared with a thin blanket and a few half-eaten pieces of bread.
He peered at the eager faces of his fellow prisoners. A rush of blood flushed his cheeks as his lips parted. Those faces bore an expression he’d rarely seen aimed at him.
Respect.