The Mate That Wasn't Mine novel Chapter 63

Chapter 63

Weeks of hating the dank, miserable sprawl of mills and factories, I’d give anything for a warren of narrow streets to dive into. My knife, now stolen, was never less than an inch from my throat, two men, holding each of my arms tight.

The wolfsbane–drenched rag was shoved back over my mouth and nose every time I failed to keep pace. The pain of regret is as strong as the stench of the men surrounding me.

My headscarf has come away, my tightly braided hair catching glances. Or maybe they are glancing because I am glaring furiously I want to shift, bite, attack, use my claws and get away.

In a huddle of over twenty men we melt away into the countryside. “Where are you taking me?”

“To see if you’re telling the truth.”

Luca. They’re taking me to Luca.

We didn’t exactly part on the best of terms, what if he were to deny knowing me now? Take his revenge by throwing me to this pack of louts.

I stay quiet, mainly because my lips quiver in fear. Out of nowhere the biggest man leans in close to my ear. The same strapping, broad build as Briggs but none of the kindness. His long, greasy brown hair brushes against the bare skin on my lower neck, making me shudder and twist.

“I’m kinda hoping he doesn’t know you. You know what happens then don’t you?”

I say nothing. He and his companion hike my arms upwards, sending my feet into the air. I’m kicking at nothing but the layers of my dress, sending a dark orange flurry of activity between the two dark brown, baggy–clothed fools either side of me.

Restrained, he continued hissing his vile threats straight into my ear. “I’ll get to know you. Then Tarela. Then Oyin. Then..”

“Me! Put me down for a go Samson!” a squat, dirty blonde man chuckles.

A round of dirty chuckles racks the group. They don’t stop walking for a second. Further into the scrubland, where nothing of use could ever grow. When Tarela, the long, tall, thin man licks his bumpy lips til they shine I have to stop myself from retching.

Just like the locals said, their eyes are dead. There is an extra blackess to the pupils. Like they’ve been abandoned.

My wolf whimpers with fear. In the same way Alpha Hale can make my wolf cower in submission, these wolves inspire terror. Because anger is bubbling under the surface.

Tarela, the lanky one, spits on the man in front of him when he points out a landmark. He gets a vicious punch in the face, before he leaps onto the aggressors back and unleashes blow after blow. Nobody stops them.

Not even when Tarela renders him unconscious. The man is left in the dust, bleeding and snorting.

I’m so freaked out I trip up over a small bush and jerk the arms of my captors. “FUCKING STOP THAT!” the big one yellow.

The tall Tarela launches a stinging slap across my cheek with his still–bloody palm, my mouth quickly filling with own blood.

Two more hours of fast pacing through the undergrowth follow. Soon the only sign of the industrial zone left are the discoloured clouds.

“You’re in here,” Tarela barks, shoving me inside what looked to be a disused mining elevator, dragged up to the surface. Before sliding the grated, rusting metal door shut he took the rag of wolfsbane and tied it tightly in a knot around my neck.

“Samsom! Why the fuck are you back without the supplies!” a man shouts across the campfire.

“She asked for Luca,” the bulky Samson replied with a shrug. “Figured she was worth fetching back”

My hands flew up, panicking, there wasn’t enough air getting down to my lungs. Some, but not enough..

TIA

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Chapter 63

“Touch it…and I touch you. Then if our lovely Luca doesn’t return tonight…” Samson grinned, his long brown hair waving, the shining blade swaying back and forth in his hands. Behind him Tarela licked his lips greedily.

I turn away. If my pulse stays steady I won’t collapse to the floor of this disgusting rat cage.

There is no sign of Luca, even as night falls. When I watch all of them eat and am offered nothing myself. I keep quiet. I’m torn between wanting to see him and fearing it.

What I am doing is slyly studying this space. It was designed to transport men, not keep them as prisoners so perhaps there is a weakness to be found.

I try to think of Maxim when I get low, but my brain, my foolish, awful, traitorous brain flings me back into the past. Under the light of a golden harvest moon, a night just like the night before I left for Ravenbow.

I shut my eyes yet I cannot stop the memory replaying. Sometimes I just have to endure it and hope once or twice is enough self–flagellation.

I had been walking through the woods.. On my own, as always. Excited and scared for the future.

Only for the world to disappear under my feet with one glance into the shadows.

My wolf surged up from the base of my spine with an almighty blast of energy. My back arched and spasmed, my eyes fixed on the full moon, my mouth open in a silent scream.

Before I knew what was happening I was on the floor. My long green cotton skirt up above my waist and Luca’s hands on my bare thighs.

Gone for so long, but I still knew him instantly. That tart, sweet blackberry and almond scent was undeniable. The fall of his shaggy black hair and dark

eyes.

Back then, I didn’t find my voice. Not enough to scream anyway. I hissed “Luca!” but nobody would have heard. He didn’t even hear me, he just dragged me along the ground.

“I fucking knew it, I knew it would be you,” he groaned, laving kisses on my thighs, his hands already trying to pry down my underwear.

“Stop! Stop now!”

“What do you mean stop? You’re my mate! Feisty you’re all mine. I’m claiming you before another fucking minute passes. I’ve been away for so long, I’ve missed you transforming. But look at you…mine.” he rasped. The dark glint of his eyes was no longer daring, just teetering on the edge of control.

For a few seconds I wondered if this was his idea of a sick joke for his return. But the searing bite Luca’s teeth planted just confirmation enough.

my hip bone was

/MATE. MATE!/ my wolf screamed rapturously into my head. “No, no, no, no,” came bumbling out of my mouth. A childhood talking about being able to live our own lives, for him to steal away one of my lifes biggest choices.

The ache in my hip at the memory forces me to open my teear–filled eyes, blurrily staring up at the golden moon and curse the fact I ever saw him before I left.

I can hear his dark, rich voice in my head even now. “Its not your choice Feisty. It’s Fate. When I last saw him he was more of an overgrown boy. All long limbs, a bit of muscle and floppy black hair. What had returned was a terrifying specimen of brutal possession.

“Don’t you fucking dare Feisty!” he cried when I began to shift. His jet black hair casting haunting shadows down his face in the dark. “NO!”

I always wondered why he didn’t chase after me. Now I know, he couldn’t. If he took his shirt off would I have seen the long telltale scarring of an exile?

I can only hope he hasn’t lost every bit of his former self. Maybe when he sees me, Luca might regret what he did. If we can talk like we uses to, we could perform a Rejection and I can start to untangle my life.

Or at least he could tell me where to head to find the u–shaped mountain range from my earliest dreams. The one half covered in moss, half bright white

stone.

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Chapter 63

My wolf is not hopeful, her doubt landing on my shoulders like too many blankets.

Long after midnight, shuffling noises came into camp. A man leading a large group of others. The night guards ran towards them, bowing and scraping, But then his head roughly twitched.

Immediately looking my way.

My blood ran cold.

He is shadowed in black but I just know. Teenage years of looking out in the dark from my bedroom window. The way his messy hair hangs, even the stance, always leaning more to his right.

He grabs a fire torch and says something to all the men who have arrived with him. It must be a threat because not a single one of them follow him as he strides towards my cage with fast, powerful intent.

The torch casts shadows across his face but there is no doubt Luca Tamish stands before me. A smile threatens even though his features are darker, more serious than even I remembered. He needs a wash too, grime thick across the small wrinkles of his forehead.

“Oh Feisty. What have you been doing?”

Then he takes a step back. Pointing the torch towards me, his eyes gleefully study me from head to toe. He is silently thrilled I’m locked up for him. Walking around the metal elevator structure tutting and nodding.