Rescued by the Wolf (Blood Moon Brotherhood 2)

His eyes crinkled again. “Your choice.”

She stayed where she was. Her leg thrummed in time with her heart, pain radiating into her hip and back and down her leg to her toes. “My only choice today. Sit up and bleed or lay in the dirt.” She swallowed back tears then. She didn’t like feeling vulnerable or helpless—but that’s exactly what she was. “I have pain relievers in my purse. And a phone. And a Taser.”

He didn’t say anything.

She didn’t care. “But you’re right. I don’t have my purse.” She sighed. “And, yes, I should have used my Taser.”

“Wouldn’t have made a difference,” he said.

She stared at the darkened stairwell. “Maybe. I just froze. I locked up. Seeing Chase like that, blood everywhere. And then, Chase ran off.” Her voice broke again. He’d left her. He’d left her, and now she was here, alone and bleeding. Her brother, big and bad and capable of far too many illegal activities, had run away. “He left me,” she whispered.

The man groaned, almost a growl, and stood.

Olivia lay perfectly still, very glad there were bars separating them. The man paced, a strange metallic clink echoing every step, his attention returning to her again and again. Now that she could see him, she missed the shadows. He looked wild, like a caged animal. And the scars that covered his body, muscled from head to toe, promised he was dangerous—very dangerous. The look in his eyes, the predatory way he moved, the sheer restless energy that rolled off him, all sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine.

“Are you—” She stared at him, blinking. “Are you chained?”

One brow rose, but he didn’t say a word.

r /> He was naked, unarmed, and vulnerable—and chained to a wall? Where was she? And what the hell was going on? She curled into herself, wincing at the pull in her leg. The ground beneath her thigh grew hot and wet.

“Will you stay fucking still?” His impatience was obvious, his agitation startling her.

“Fine,” she snapped back, pressing her eyes tightly shut.

The lights came on then, and Olivia forgot about everything. She pushed off the floor and pressed herself into the back corner of the cage, as far away from the door as possible. She ignored his muffled string of expletives and tried not to cry as the massive man that drug her here descended the steps. He was holding a tray as if bringing food to caged people in basements was a normal thing.

He opened the cage, set the tray down, and crossed to her. “You’re still bleeding?” he asked, tugging her up by one arm.

Olivia swung at him. It was pointless, she knew it, but no one touched her—ever. No matter what.

He slapped her hard, knocking her back against the bars. “Knock that shit off. I was going to stitch you up, but maybe I should let you bleed a little longer.”

Olivia saw stars—bright, shiny, white stars whirring in front of her eyes. She gripped the bars to keep from falling over. He was going to stitch up her leg? If he thought she was going to let him—

She was lifted into the air and slammed against the ground, knocking the air from her lungs. She coughed, unable to breathe. The stars were back again. And her leg ached.

He took off the T-shirt and she felt dizzy.

“That’s a gusher,” he said, tearing her pants. “You humans need to learn you’re too breakable to try to fight back.”

Humans? She didn’t have enough breath to say the word out loud. Not yet.

“I’ll get a needle and some thread. Don’t move,” he growled, his pupils dilating darkly and his mouth pulling down.

Olivia couldn’t have moved if she wanted to.

Not when the giant left or the door shut or when the guy in the next cage started talking to her.

“Don’t move,” he repeated, like she was going to jump up and run. “You’re bleeding. A lot. Just stay calm and still.”

“O-okay,” she managed, still coughing.

“Dammit,” he bit back.

The door opened and the giant’s heavy footfalls announced his return. She lay there, her lungs still burning, when he bent over her, tying her wrists with a rope. “You move, it’ll hurt worse,” the giant grumbled. “Hold the light up,” he snapped, offering the end of the rope to someone.

Olivia realized they weren’t alone. A young woman was with them, her face sharp and hard. She stared down at Olivia with pure contempt. “Why are you sewing her up, Byron?” The girl tied the rope to the cage wall, forcing Olivia’s arms taut over her head—stringing her up.