Her Tortured Beasts (Her Vicious Beasts #4)

Prologue

Savage

Lord Huron – The Night We Met

8 years ago

I t was hailing the night I met Xander. Pieces as big as my fist crash down on my back, denting the cars, cracking the windows. Big enough to knock a weaker beast out, if it landed on just the right spot. It makes me grin though, to feel the violence of the Wild Mother, barrelling into Scythe and me. Her sound is like drums in my ears, her ice-like fists pounding into my back.

It doesn’t hinder me as I swing the body of the roo, a federal agent, into the garbage disposal at our local tip. Making friends with the feds is on Scythe’s list of things to do, but until then, we get rid of whoever’s game enough to trace us.

The machine roars like an angry monster as it takes my gift, happily chomping away.

“I like this methy,” I call to Scythe, standing watch on the top of a pile of rubbish behind me, his arms crossed, his cold shark eyes on the road.

“Method,” he corrects.

“Yeah.”

It’s only when we’re about to leave that Scythe holds up a hand. “ Engine,” he says into my mind. “An expensive one.”

That’s strange. Frowning, the two of us lie on our bellies and peer over a pile of trash to the road that runs through the centre of the tip. Scythe is right, it’s a motherfucking Rolls Royce rolling up fine and dandy along the road.

“What’s a car like that doing in a place like this?” I ask, scratching my chin. Scythe made me shave this morning.

“See if there are any markings on the vehicle,” my brother replies. “And keep quiet.”

I make my muscles into stone and hold my breath as we watch the shiny black car travel right past us. Red brake lights gleam, but the rest of it is unmarked.

“Real wealth doesn’t announce itself, ” Scythe says. “No insignia. Illegal tint, and I bet the coppers know not to pull them over. Look!’

Two males get out of the Rolls Royce on the far side, pulling a slumped person between them. Smoke billows out of the open door; the person remaining is smoking inside.

There’s a thump before the two males hurry back inside the car. Scythe gives me a look as they drive off, and the slumped person, no more than a big black lump, lies there, unmoving.

“Is he dead?” I ask. “Why didn’t they use the machine like we did?”

“They’re not like us,” Scythe says, not moving his eyes off the unconscious guy as hail pounds onto him. There’s a movement, and the guy rolls flat onto his back with his arms and legs outstretched in an I-don’t-want-to-live sort of way. He’s got to be around my age, just taller, by the look of his smooth, pale skin and lean body.

“Let’s go take a look,” I urge. The guy’s head flops over to the left. “Let’s—” Two things have made my heart freeze and my guts jerk upwards.

Number One: The guy’s eyelids are sunken, with blood seeping out from under them, where the sockets are empty.

Number Two: On the right side of his neck glows a skull with five curling beams of light.

And then Scythe and I are running. Without talking, without thinking. Because all we know is that we’ve just met our third bond-brother. There are five swirly swirls on our mating mark, so we’d guessed that we might have up to five mates. We crouch over him and I give his side a bit of a poke.

“Leave me,” the guy moans. “Fucking leave.”

“No chance,” I say happily over the sound of the hail. “Who took your eyes, dude, because what the actual fuck?” I get the sudden intrusive thought to find two rounds of hail and pop them in to replace his missing eyeballs. You’re supposed to put ice on injuries after all.

Scythe gives me a sharp look.

I roll my eyes. “Well, now we’ve got to find the person and take their eyes out. But I’ve never done that before and I don’t think I can do it with my teeth, so it might be a finger job, right?” I grab his shoulders and shake it. “Speak up! You’re my new brother!”

The boy makes a choked sort of sound, like a gurgle or a sob. Some blood seeps out of his eyes, trickling down his temple.

“Shit, sorry!” I lean in, and just like a good mother wolf cleaning her cub, I lick at the blood coming from under his lids.

The boy screams, shoving me away and turning towards Scythe.

I turn to the side and gag, wiping out my mouth because there’s some foul magic or something on my tongue now. “Urgh!” I cry. “Scythe! Urgh!”

“Serves you right,” my shark brother admonishes, throwing a black leather square at me. “Come on, let’s get him out of here.”

I catch the thing as Scythe puts his arms under the guy and hoists him up, carrying him like a bride. The thought makes me snicker. Scythe says, “Check his wallet.”

Suddenly I want a wallet too. I open it up and poke through it as we hurry the fuck out of there. His driver’s licence is the first thing I see, and I squint at it before pouting. I hold it up to Scythe. I can only tell that he’s got his P plates because of the red strip across the top, but I can’t read the rest of it.

My brother frowns deeply. “Xander Drakos.”

“Do we know him?” I ask, squinting at the photo. His eyes are green like an expensive gemstone. Were green.

“Yeah, Savage,” Scythe says darkly, his face awfully tight. “I know the family.”

“He’s just a hatchling, though,” I say, glancing at the unconscious boy. “He wouldn’t have been involved in any of that sort of stuff?”

“You don’t know these dragons,” Scythe rumbles. “They’re not regular beasts.”

“Yeah,” I say, brushing a wet strand of black hair off Xander’s face to look at him better. “But he’s our brother now.” We arrive at our car and Scythe sits him in the back seat. I lean down and click his seat belt into place. “Don’t worry, Xander!” I shout in his face. “You’ll be right as rain, real soon!”

Xander grimaces before I shut the door and throw myself into the passenger seat.

Scythe glances at our new pack-mate. “I might know someone who can help him with his vision,” he says. “It’s worth asking anyway.”

“I wonder who did it,” I say as Scythe pulls out onto the main road.

A mumble comes from the back seat, delirious and faint, but it’s definitely from Xander. “I was only trying to help.”