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Mercedes barred her teeth. “Time to teach that husband of yours a lesson.”
“He’s my mate,” I whispered, but she didn’t hear me.
Alan stepped forward. The acrid scent of silver hit me. In his right hand he held a hunting knife, about eight inches long and gleaming sharp, leather-wrapped handle. Old, greyish-gristled leather that had an almost reptilian look to it.
That wasn’t cow hide.
I breathed through my nose and focused on the treeline as the blade flicked in my vision. The camera bolstered my resolve. This was going into history and history would never say I had begged for mercy. Or peed myself like a terrified puppy.
Right. This was about to turn very, very, very bad.
Very.
Very.
I had two jobs: don’t pee myself, and don’t beg for mercy. The two lobes of my brain each had a job.
Alan bent down and flashed the blade in front of my face. Silver burned my nostrils and I wanted to sneeze. “Your husband refused our offer.” He flicked the blade under my left eye. The point danced just under the globe. “He needs a little education.”
“He’s my mate,” I whispered again. “The soul Gaia chose for me.”
He caressed my cheek and forehead with the flat of the blade. The blade itself was razor-sharp steel, but had a thin strip of silver inlaid above the grind. The brush of silver scalded left red traces over my pale skin. I jerked against the hands holding me. Rope scratched my skin.
I had to get through this. I had to get through this and survive and return to SnowFang with what I knew.
Alan smirked. “Is he now? That’s up for debate. Did your father pimp you to him, or did Gaia shove the two of you together? Tell me, Winter, would you prefer to be an Abomination or Daddy’s Little Whore? I think Daddy’s Little Whore is better. I’d rather make my own daughter a whore than know she was made with a deformed soul.”
He pushed the tip of the blade into the softness of my throat and pushed my chin up. “Abomination or Whore? Say it loudly now. Loud enough we can all hear you.”
I wasn’t either and I’d never say it. What would he do, cut me more or less? Did it matter? He needed me alive if he wanted to get anything from Sterling. Big swaggering Alpha wading into that prestige gap thinking he could get away with it.
“I am the Luna of SnowFang and I look like my mother!”
Alan snarled and crack!
Knuckles exploded across my face.
I sagged against the hands holding me, panting. I spit out some bloody spittle.
“Abomination or whore?!”
“I look like my mother!”
Crack!
I spit out some more blood.
Alan grabbed me by the hair. Rage twisted his face and his pupils narrowed to crazed pinpoints. “You think that is a good thing in this pack!?”
“What—are you talking about?” I gasped around my throbbing face.
He threw me down and spat on me. The hot glob landed on my throat and slid down my skin. “My mate is a Luna, you are just some cock-spit turned into an expensive whore who can’t even spread her legs properly.”
Alan flicked the blade again. “Hold her.”
The wolf on my calves seized a handful of my hair and yanked my head back. My spine cranked into a brutal arch over his other knee. My neck bowed outwards. The second warrior moved to my side and cranked my left arm at a cruel angle so the flat of my bicep was roughly equal with my shoulder, and my other arm well, screw my other shoulder. All that yoga with Jun had made me flexible enough the fibers only howled. My bruised body groaned in pain.
My pulse thundered against the tissue-paper thin skin on my neck. My breath wheezed through my constricted windpipe.
