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CAPTIVE DESIRE
PROLOGUE
Emma
“Ugh!” I groan, sleep still heavily pulling me under as the alarm goes off. I feel like I’d just gotten to sleep and my discontent is muffled into the pillow. My bed is snug and warm, and the air is so cold that I really, really don’t want to get out of my comfy cocoon.
Beep, beep, beep.
I lazily pick up the handheld device so hell-bent on yelling at me and hit snooze by accident. Gritting my teeth, I toss it on the nightstand. My head hits the pillow and I almost let sleep pull me back under, but then I remember what day it is. Instantly, my mind wakes with excitement.
I’ve waited years for a lead and I finally got one. Wasting no time on the wish for sleep, I race to my closet and grab the first pair of jeans and tank top I can get my hands on. There are at least two werewolves hunting on land only an hour away from here according to a reputable source. I squeal internally as I dig in the pile of shoes for the only pair of sneakers I own. I’m going to need them so I can hunt down these shifters.
The alarm goes off again while I’m grabbing my toothbrush and I don’t mind the relentless beeping in the least. I smile as I turn it off and slip my phone into my back pocket. The only other object on my nightstand is an empty picture frame and looking at it makes my smile slip. My boss and the head of The Daily Tribune gave it to me for Christmas. I was going to put a picture of my parents in it, but that’s too damn depressing to have to look at first thing in the morning. I cringe and lay the frame flat. I’ll get back to that later. I have other things to focus on today. Hopefully much happier things that require my attention.
I’ve been working on this petition for nearly a year. It’s something my parents felt strongly about as well, and that alarming offering at Shadow Falls screwed everything up for me. I know there’s far more to the werewolves than the Authority lets on. And now everyone’s convinced that shifters are nothing but vicious beasts who take whatever and whoever they want and do God knows what with them. The rebellion is growing, and my petition has lost its following. No one wants to combine our worlds. They want the shifters and other paranormal beings to have even less access. Ideally none at all.
It’s a shame that a single incident could cause such an uproar and put all of my work into question. But I’m going to prove that werewolves are just like us. Well more like us than we’re led to believe.
It’s not hard to imagine the beasts with their broad shoulders and towering frames. They’re the epitome of lust and power. Forbidden and dangerous and therefore the most delightful temptation. Their dark eyes haunt me in the most delicious way. I’ve seen the way they touch the women and imagined myself on the stage. Being chosen. Offered, taken, and claimed. My core heats as the fantasy plays in my head. I snap my eyes open and cringe. I really need to get more AA batteries. My poor BOB (battery operated boyfriend) must be missing me. Silently laughing and then cringing at my joke, I have to admit how depressing my social life has become. Besides, I have been offered before and I wasn’t chosen. It’s a sad truth, but I’m not meant to belong to them. It doesn’t mean we can’t share the same world though.
I grab my keys and my backpack. Taking one last look at my nearly empty loft, I close the door and pray I can catch up to the werewolves. I need to record something, anything, to convince the world that the division we’ve created is causing more harm than good.
EMMA
With the tip I’ve been given, I’m almost certain I’m close to the pack, or at least to the two werewolves I’ve been tracking. My boots certainly have enough mud on them, and my legs are sore from all the hiking. At this point I think they want me to catch up to them. I’ve been following their footprints through the woods for almost two days now, taking me farther and farther out into the wilderness. I grew up camping and hiking; my parents loved it. But the first night felt different. I’ve spent nearly a year shoving all emotion down, but the farther I get out here, alone with my thoughts, the more difficult it is to keep everything buried. So I follow the trail relentlessly. I need to find them. I have no other option.
The werewolves’ prints are similar to wolves’ but much, much larger. All this morning I started to worry I was wrong and that they were only the marks of abnormally large wolves, but then I saw the change and human footprints replaced the paws. Watching the transition was electrifying. It’s hard to explain the rush of emotion knowing how close I am to them. Is it against the law? Yes. Did that keep me from documenting it? Hell no. It lit a fire under my ass to catch up to them when I saw those prints. It’s odd enough that there are only two of them. I expected to see more prints by now since loners are a rarity. Supposedly. At least that’s what my research has hinted at.
I should’ve headed back yesterday as soon as it got dark. It’s not like I’m really prepared to be out here on my own, but I’ve got a few power bars, another two bottles of water, and a blanket in my backpack. I’ll deal with it. All I really need is something to sleep on and something to eat. Not that I slept much last night. How could I when I’m so damn close to them?
The scout that led me here is probably shitting his pants thinking I’ve died. There’s no one who could sue him if I died on his land though, so he’ll be fine. I should’ve called him yesterday when I had a signal and told him that I found tracks and was going to follow them. I doubt he’ll come search for me. It may be his land, but he’s not a fool. The shifters have been hunting here, and he has no intention of coming between a wolf and his prey. I might believe we shouldn’t be separated, but not everyone thinks that way. Most people don’t. Because we don’t know enough.
My career is finally going to take off once I get video evidence to back up my data. I’ve been studying werewolves for years, but it’s always been received with heavy skepticism. I’m the most widely talked about journalist and researcher, and definitely respected by many, but with all of the false information out there…well, at this point I need proof to take me to the next level.
I’m willing to do whatever I need to in order to get this story. This is the chance I’ve been waiting for and I’m not going to back down for anything.
The Authority knows I want an interview and to stay among the werewolves. Their PR response that it would be unsafe for both species still enrages me. I wouldn’t have to be out here tracking prints like a hunter if they would have simply given me any contact whatsoever. Just a chance. That’s all I wanted. I’ve seen werewolves at the offerings, I’ve listened to them and their mates. It’s so obvious to me. It’s enraging that no one believes me. Humans want to believe the worst of them, and with all the propaganda and unfortunate history, it’s easy enough to simply believe what’s been fed to us. But I know the truth and I’m going to film it. I want to see a werewolf with a human mate. I know they exist. I know it in the core of my soul. Then they’ll take me seriously and my petition to merge our worlds could possibly gain some traction. If the Authority doesn’t like it, they can shove it up their asses.
The two sets of large paw prints are closer together as I near the small clearing in the woods. No longer distance between the prints that indicates large steps, they’re now merely inches apart and twist in the dirt, becoming a confusing mess. My gaze narrows as I try to differentiate the paths of the two wolves. The dark forest is bathed in filters of light as I follow their messy trail.
The scent of woods is intoxicating and the fresh air is cool against my skin. I take a moment to steady my breathing and then try to make out what exactly they were doing.
They slowed down nearly to a stop right about here, right at the entrance to the small clearing. That makes me nervous. It takes everything in me not to touch the prints. Something feels off. For the first time since I began, it feels unsettling. It’s only been about an hour since the sun rose and I found where they slept last night. They didn’t slow to eat or drink. They slept by the river, so I imagine they drank and ate there. The only other reason I can think for them to slow their approach at this clearing is because there was something here that made them stall. Other shifters maybe? Vampires?
The thought makes my blood run cold and my breath stalls in my lungs. Werewolves I’m familiar with, but other species? No. I don’t know much about other species other than what we’re told, and even though I don’t believe much of it, it doesn’t stop me from thinking the worst right now. I don’t know how to avoid conflict with any other supernatural beings. Werewolves are easy, simple submission is all they require, and I intend to submit once I finally reach them.
I don’t want to give them any reason to send me away, or worse. I only want a chance to stay with them and learn more about them. And film them. But they don’t need to know about that.
Cautiously, I follow the prints in the damp dirt, pushing dried leaves and pesky sticks out of my way so I can be sure not to lose the trail of their casual strides. Just as I get to the edge of the tree line, the prints split with one wolf going right and the other going left. Initially, I feel a bit of relief. They wouldn’t split up if there was any kind of danger nearby.
Swallowing thickly, I stare at the tracks and look deeper into the woods where the set of tracks on the right leads. I’m vaguely familiar with the area. I studied the map that Jordan, the scout and owner of the land, gave me. My forehead pinches in confusion. There’s nothing but woods that way and then a cliff that drops to nothing. I look to the left and then drop my bag at my feet so I can take out the map. To the left is Shadow Falls, and no shifter would go that way. That area is claimed by a ruthless pack. I watched their offering. I was there and saw the women’s reaction to being taken. Chills flow down my spine at the memory. They’re the reason no one believes me about them only taking mates. I huff and loosen the hair tie to take down my hair, running my hand through my brunette locks as I study the map. I’m certain my hair is a mess, my worn jeans have dirt stains on my knees, and my sweatshirt is less than fresh after two days of hiking in it. I take a moment to slip it off, leaving me in my tank top. It’s warm enough that I can have a moment to feel the fresh air and maybe get some warmth from the sun on my skin. The sounds of nature pause, and it forces me to look up. It’s practically silent. No more birds chirping or critters rustling. My heart rate picks up, but I glance back down to the map, knowing exactly what I’ve done and what the risks are.
There’s a small stream and Dark Valley between here and Shadow Falls, but I can’t imagine why the wolves would split at this point.
My hand is still in my hair, I’m frozen with fear and my entire body shivers at the sound of a branch cracking beneath a heavy weight behind me. And then another. They’re casual steps, definitely getting closer and getting louder, more careless. The wolves. My breath comes in short pants and my eyes widen. Another noise to my right forces a small gasp of fear from me.
They split up to trap me.
