Chapter 11
YVAINE
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This came from a link Tiziano had sent. What he’d texted made me laugh and shudder with fear at the same time.
Ivy, love, here you go. Tiziano’s magical brain has struck again ;) Next time, that douche will think twice before hanging up on the Comet Alpha’s daughter and my best friend. See here…
I clicked on it, gasped, and covered the phone to prevent other people—or worse, the children—from seeing this. Of course I had to be out in public right then.
Among too many pornographic photos of people and body parts that I avoided looking at, at all costs, there was a fake profile.
The photo that Tiziano had chosen was of a man seen from behind, wearing only a leopard tanga, handcuffed, and tied to the leg of a bed with a velvet curtain and satin sheets.
His announcement read the following:
Submissive and obedient boy seeking dominant master.
I’m perfectly smooth and clean-cut, available to do all of my master’s domestic chores, and ready to submit to his punishment and command. Natural submissive, bottom houseboy of legal age, skinny, petite. Medical record available upon request.
I intend to be trained and molded to please my master, fully embracing my submissive side. If you are interested in a full relationship with a submissive, and if you are a dom who will be just as devoted, then I am the submissive you are looking for.
Contact the following number only if you are serious.
And there, listed beneath, I recognized the digits. Rudolph’s real phone number! The first one I had blocked.
Part of my mind wondered how Tiziano knew all that information about BDSM—or how his revenge could go so far.
Another part of me wondered how popular those websites were.
It would be interesting to study their brains and see if there were any differences that explained why a person would want to be dominated by someone else…
A third part of my consciousness felt a microgranule of guilt…
that was soon wiped away by a fourth part of me, when I remembered how Rudolph had hung up on me in favor of his booty calls.
Which shouldn’t have bothered me at all, but it did.
I told myself that I had to defend the honor of women and that he deserved it all.
I replied to Tiziano’s message, giving my okay to the master plan.
Revenge isn’t a dish best served cold, dear Rudolph, but a medicine best taken ASAP.
I hadn’t heard from Rudolph in a week, and I neither cared nor expected him to contact me. Why would he have? Our exchanges, as exciting and annoying as they were, were nothing more than unnecessary distractions.
Plus, I would never meet the brute in real life.
Tiziano had informed me that the forbidden website would take some time for approval. Not that Rudolph could guess I was the perpetrator. Heaps of people must have hated him, considering the extreme quantities of rudeness and barbarity that he produced.
Besides, I was too busy feeling slightly sad and down in the dumps, like I was missing something important, to be concerned about him.
My need for sweets grew proportionally, and the discomfort in my chest continued, sometimes as painful as a swarm of wasps stinging my heart.
Since I was my own doctor, I decided that the reason was because I was so stressed by my massive daily workload, between studying, volunteering, and classes.
My solution was to take a day off and go on a date.
“Hey, Dad!” I greeted the big man, who had to bend almost forty-five degrees to kiss my cheek.
It was like looking at a male version of myself, only three times larger, a little older, and with pack tattoos of his lineage—full constellations of the night sky from the day he was born—covering his arms and legs.
Yet, too many people thought that Richard, Alpha of Comet, was just my older brother rather than my dad.
As he held me in his tattooed arms, squeezing some of my gloomy mood out, I felt at home.
While it was obvious he was overjoyed to spend a full day with me, proven by his lung-cutting hug, he kept scratching his arms and huffing. There was restlessness there.
I hid a smile.
“Where’s Mom?” I asked nonchalantly.
The deepening furrows in his forehead proved my theory correct: It was Mom.
“She and Andrew went back to Inverness,” he grunted, looking away.
“Oh? I didn’t know!” I rummaged through the back of my mind, trying to remember if Mom had told me.
“Yeah, Giulia’s third or fourth child.” He scratched his neck. “I forget the number, but it’s shifting, and obviously your mother has to be there.” He rolled his eyes as he spoke.
I laughed at that semi-childish expression. My father was a mighty Alpha, respected and feared, terribly intelligent and competitive. However, when it came to his mate, he was a teenager all over again. Often, in the past, I’d had to step in and pacify my fiery parents.
“How about Uncle Andrew? Why did he have to go too?”
Mother and her twin, my closest uncle, were physically inseparable, so much so that he moved to the United States to be with her. That was one of the several conditions Mother had demanded before leaving her pack in Scotland to move with my father.
“You know how those two are. He has to be with her all the fuck—” He glanced at me. “All the time.”
“Dad! You aren’t jealous of Uncle Andrew, are you?”
“Who, me?” He tsked. “Of course not!”
“Don’t tsk me! Why didn’t you go with them if you miss Mom so much?”
I knew how antsy he got being separated from his mate.
Unlike him, my mom could stand the separation. In fact, she did it mostly to bother him, aware he couldn’t spend a day without her. I shook my head at her evilness.
“The Highlan—I mean, your brother plays next week. I can’t miss one of his games.” He pursed his lips. I knew more would come. “And…your mom didn’t want me to go with her.”
I couldn’t contain my laughter at his pout, but I understood why Mom didn’t want him around in her native land.
Dad would behave all ‘Alpha mate,’ ridiculously possessive and unnecessarily protective.
Coming from a small town, Mom knew everyone, and everyone knew her—and as much as Mother loved Father deeply, the lady didn’t have enough time in Scotland to take care of a growling husband.
But Dad was a giant teddy bear. Patience wasn’t his strongest suit, but in my entire life, he’d only ever raised his voice at me once—when I was eight and decided to liberate fifty-four cows from the pack field.
The pack’s grazing field. They rewarded my kindness by redecorating the territory in cow poop and blocking the nearby highway.
Some were even stolen or killed. It was a disaster.
“Bloody hell, Yvaine!” he had yelled. Three words, one shocked silence, and then Dad had just sighed, took my tiny hand, and led me to the sheep pen to see the newborn lambs.
“Dad, how about going to Luigi’s for dinner? Just you and me?” I decided to change the subject. It was our all-time favorite restaurant, and the owner was both a friend of my dad’s and a former player of our wereball team.
“Of course, honeybee!” Dad always claimed that Mom and I were the precious jewels of his life. “How about going for a run first? I bet you missed it this week.”
He winked at me; the old man knew how hyperactive Zelda was and how little-to-nothing I trained.
“Let me use the bathroom first.”
“Sure, honeybee. I’ll wait for you at the pond.” Saying that, he shifted mid-step into his humongous dark brown wolf, not caring about his clothes ripping everywhere. He would probably send a picture to Mom later, since she hated when he tore his clothes during a shift.
Our pack house was basically a cozy version of Alcatraz. No corner was safe from my mom’s Scottishness: blue walls interrupted by white-framed windows and doors, heathers gasping out their last purples. Only the thistles held stubbornly on.
After finishing in the bathroom, my phone rang from the front pocket of my jeans. Without checking the screen, I stuck it between my ear and shoulder as I kicked off my ergonomic shoes, preparing for our run.
“Yvaine speaking!”
“You sound way too chipper for someone who just committed a digital war crime,” came that familiar, deep growl, instantly scaring the beat out of my heart.
The site must have approved his application.
Judging by his tone, he wasn’t thrilled about being the newest poster boy for .
And judging by this phone call, he’d definitely figured out who to blame.