TWO MADD
TWO
MADD
I didn't sleep well, which wasn’t surprising considering my circumstances.
But I couldn’t blame my disrupted sleep on being locked in, the unfamiliar setting, or the distant sound of guards doing rotations.
It was my wolf. He'd been fidgety all night and ferreting around for that scent, as if he’d buried a bone and couldn’t find it.
I’d told him to stop repeatedly, and he did for a few minutes before starting again.
You know what it is, or rather who. It was the guy who brought me food.
I was awake when dawn approached and had given up on sleep. Sitting on the edge of the narrow bed, I ran through what I knew about my situation, though it wasn’t much.
I was alive which signaled they wanted something from me, and that provided me with leverage.
It also gave me time. If I was held longer than three days, Flint and the others would come.
I pictured Grandpa cooking and arming himself with enough food to feed a dragon flight.
Though he was as proficient with a gun as the rest of the family, food was his love language, or in this case, his weapon.
That image made me smile despite my predicament.
But the dragons were aware that my family would attempt to rescue me, so either they wanted my Alpha and the others in their lair or they’d extract the information before then and I’d be dead.
No, dragons don’t get to use that word lair. They should be living in cold damp caves.
My beast and I could be dead by this time tomorrow and he was worried about semantics.
My belly was rumbling because I’d only picked at last night’s dinner. But when breakfast didn’t arrive, I wondered if they planned to starve me, though that was pointless. Slamming a hammer on my knuckles or breaking my kneecaps would be quicker and more effective methods of torture.
But Alpha and his brothers had trained me well by exposing me to sleep deprivation and teaching me survival tactics, so I wasn’t about to spill anything about our mafia pack.
That was the plan, though if I was in agony, would I crack?
My beast could absorb some of the pain, but perhaps that was their intention, though for what purpose?
The knock came mid-morning. It had to be Evander because the sound was so polite and courteous. My belly reacted, thinking I was getting food, but my wolf’s ears pricked.
I told him to come in, and again, he brought in a tray. Instead of deciding whether I could get past him and out the door—which was impossible because there were two guards in the corridor and maybe more—I was transfixed by the aroma of good coffee. And not the crappy instant stuff.
My wolf calmed as he took in his movements and inspected Evander’s scent.
My jailer peered at the remains of last night’s dinner. “You didn’t eat much.”
“It’s hard to work up an appetite when you’ve been kidnapped.”
I reached for the coffee and inhaled the aroma which partially blocked out Evander’s scent.
In spite of his non-threatening demeanor, he was part of the flight holding me captive.
I expected him to leave with last night’s tray, but he hesitated.
He’d probably been subjected to the same training as me, and his method of extracting information might be to pretend he wasn’t like the rest of the dragons.
Like my beast, I was intrigued by this man, and I leaned toward him.
“Is there anything else you need?”
The cup was midway to my lips, and Evander sounded more like a concierge than a jailer. My wolf was paying attention to his scent again. He was trying to interpret it but didn’t have the right software installed.
Huh?
Sorry. It’s like a word that’s on the tip of your tongue.
“Let’s see. A phone, my guns, and a car with a full tank for starters.” I sipped the coffee. Damn, it was good. “Are any of those available?”
“No.”
“That’s a shame.”
He grasped the door handle and glanced over his shoulder as if he was about to say something.
“Evander.” His fingers tightened around the handle. “Why did they bring me here instead of—” I didn't finish the sentence because the alternative to here was a shallow grave, and saying it out loud was a bad omen.
“You’re smart enough to understand the why.” There was an edge to his voice suggesting he might be irritated with me.
“As a bargaining chip.”
His eyes narrowed as he glanced toward me and swept out the door. I appreciated his honesty more than him giving me false comfort.
We need to conserve our energy. I studied the bars on the window, but even if I gave my beast his fur, he couldn’t break out of here.
I tucked into the breakfast and had just finished eating when the door was flung open. There’d been no knock, and my wolf reacted with an internal snarl. His muscles tightened, and he shuddered. My body responded as if I were zooming upward in an elevator.
Leaping to my feet, my eyes searched the room for something to defend myself with. I didn’t have the strength to wrench the faucet out of the sink, and there was nothing else I could use, so I braced myself for impact.
“Evander!”
The calm manner had vanished, and his body bristled as if I’d insulted him. His scent didn’t just announce itself. It had spikes and was so potent it scraped itself over my skin. What had happened in the thirty minutes since I’d last seen him and why did he smell different?
“You’re the wolf.” He spoke in a monotone.
His dragon was visible in his gaze, whereas he’d hidden him on his previous visits, and his dark eyes gave me a glimpse into… emptiness.
“Last time I checked, but you know that.” I couldn’t fathom his tactics. He was being both good cop and bad cop, but for what purpose?
Evander side-eyed me, and his sneer and clenched fists were a sign he was about to punch me. But he flung back the bedding and screwed up his nose. I wanted to shout that I didn’t stink, but I was trying to process why his scent had become so intense.
“You'll be moved to a different room today.”
“This one's fine.”
“It wasn't a question.” His nostrils flared. “And no. I’m not Evander though he arranged the new room for you.”
What? This was their ploy to make me think I was losing my mind? I thought dragons were strategic with their long-term planning, but so far, they reminded me of kindergarteners bumbling, grasping, and clutching at ideas.
He stepped closer, and I reeled at his scent. Gripping the edge of the desk, I closed my eyes as it overwhelmed me and my body sagged.
This isn’t Evander. He’s telling the truth.
My wolf was no longer snarling, and all his attention was on this guy. He became calm which was the opposite of what he should have done when faced with an enemy. My thoughts slowed in line with him. I studied dust floating in the air, and the room was silent except for my breathing.
It was my mistake, allowing my eyes to fool me into thinking this was the dragon shifter I’d met previously.
But I was struggling to comprehend what was happening as his scent dangled me over shark-infested waters.
The desk was propping me up because without it, I’d have sunk to the floor, and this Evander copy would for certain have enjoyed my humiliation.
He left and slammed the door, making me jump. I counted the seconds before my legs could hold my weight, and when I straightened, I stared between the bars on the window, thinking I might catch sight of him.
My reaction was because of stress. The unknown was a powerful opponent, and maybe this was the dragons’ plan. It’d be like leaving the lights on or subjecting me to constant noise. I’d always be in flight-or-fight mode, and that was how they’d wear me down.
No, it’s not like that.
My beast had witnessed and learned human tactics, and as a wolf, he could intimidate an enemy or prey.
Though wolves were predators, we were no match for dragons, and we were on their territory and I was disorientated.
My wolf was operating in an unfamiliar environment.
That was the simplest explanation for our reaction.
No. Again my beast disagreed with me. Evander’s scent was an echo of this one.
What was I supposed to do with that? But now my mind was whirring, and I paced the floor. With my meal forgotten, I raked my nails over my scalp. I wanted someone, anyone, to tell me what to do with this information, but I was an adult and a captive and it was just me and my beast.
I grabbed the bedding and brought it to my face. Remnants of his scent clung to the fabric, and I tossed it away, wanting to stamp it out. Sitting on the bed, I put my face in my hands, and for the first time in years, I cried.
And I hadn’t even gotten the guy’s name.