Gentle Scars (To Be Claimed 2) - Page 29

Dom’s strong hands run along my ass and thighs.

“Do you hurt at all, little one?” His words are clearer and louder now. They were spoken out loud. I don’t want him to see that I’m crying so I just shake my head without looking up at him.

“You’re lucky I didn’t kill your ass.” I stifle my laugh at his silent statement.

“I’m a lucky sick fuck. You should’ve seen how she was dripping from using the belt.” There’s a pause before he adds, “It was a punishment, though.”

“What set you off?”

Caleb huffs in the same muted tone as their words. “Blowing off her emotions like they don’t fucking matter. And then she lied to me. I’m not going to let her hide from us. She’s denied who she is for too long.”

Dom nods slightly and kisses my hair again.

“Can you hear me?” I think the words as hard as I can. I would concentrate on finding his wolf but I don’t know how to.

Lifting my head and searching Dom’s eyes, I find nothing but confusion. “Little one, are you all right?”

I look deep into those piercing silver eyes. Why can I hear them, but they can’t hear me? As his mouth parts slightly with his brow furrowed in concern, I press my lips to his, gently sucking on his lower lip and pushing my breasts against his strong, hard chest. For the first time, my heart fills with devotion, my hot skin needing his touch.

My wolf can hear my mates. A warm calm runs through me as I feel her against my chest. My wolf.

Part III

Broken Heart

Devin

Gritting my teeth, I attempt to keep the anger at bay. This is exactly why I left that shit pack. We let him sit for hours, alone and in the pitch black while he came to… but he’s still high. “What are you on?” The stupid fucker just grins and lets out an unhinged laugh. The blood on his teeth and his bloodshot eyes make him appear even more deranged.

My wolf presses against my chest, eager to be released. I grimace as the man’s foul breath lingers in front of my face. The shifter is bound to the chair in the middle of the shed with silver rope. Trapped and undoubtedly in pain. His left arm is hanging out of the socket. That’s going to take a while to heal, but the rest of him is covered in only faint bruises and blood from wounds that have already healed. Dom cracks his knuckles, preparing for another round.

The disadvantage to being shifters is that this could go on forever since we heal so damn fast. I don’t have time for this. I need to get back to my mate. My hand flexes as I tilt my head, judging this prick and finding him lacking.

“Fine, I don’t really give a fuck anyway.” I move back as Dom steps in front of the mangy shifter and takes his anger out on his already fucked-up face. I let him destroy the poor fucker. It’s not doing a damn thing, but Dom can’t get past the comment from earlier about “the blond one” looking like she’d be fun. A chill runs through my blood remembering what Vince told us about the pack. We’ve got all the equipment we need in the back of the shed to get answers.

Answers on where they are and how many are left. I had mercy the last time. I won’t the next. They’ll all die a slow death. Their fate is sealed.

“Did you know Dom’s an expert in torture?” I question casually as Dom lands a fist square on the shifter’s jaw. Bloody spittle flies out of his mouth onto the ground as his jaw shatters and hangs off his face. “He didn’t want to be, but you could say it came with the territory he grew up in.” Pain flashes in Dom’s eyes and I immediately regret my comment. That was a poor judgment call, but I continue and apologize telepathically. He nods slightly in acknowledgment before continuing to land punch after punch on his victim’s face. The force behind the flurry of blows has the chair that’s bolted to the floor shuddering.

I head to the back of the shed and wheel out the IVs and O negative blood. I have to go to the other side to get the key ingredient.

Holding the bag in front of the stupid bastard’s face, I tell him, “Liquid silver.” I toss the bag back and forth between my hands as my words register on his face. A hint of worry passes through his eyes. Apparently he’s not too far gone.

It’ll scorch every inch of this bastard’s flesh from the inside out. Constantly. No relief will be given as his heart continues to pump the tainted blood throughout his system. “We’ll start off with a low dose, just to give you some pain and the motivation to be forthcoming to end the suffering as quickly as possible. You’ll be able to answer our questions easily. But if you don’t talk, we’ll up the concentration until all you can do is scream. We’ll let you go for a few hours, maybe a day before we give you some of this.” I grab the IV stand. “Fresh blood. Then we’ll ask you again. If you don’t answer, well … rinse and repeat.”

Tags: Willow Winters To Be Claimed Fantasy
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