Primal (Alpha Brotherhood 2)

It wasn’t enough. I needed more.

Soon, I couldn’t feel anything at all. My body went numb, so deprived of food and water that it was beginning to shut down. I slept in those metal cuffs time and time again. It became too much effort to stand and eventually my legs stopped working entirely. Instead, I slumped forward and hung by my wrists.

If I ever made it out of here, I knew I’d carry the bruises for some time. For now, the metal hadn’t sliced through my skin yet, but I knew that it wouldn’t take much longer.

My father didn’t come back.

No one else did either.

I hated them all.

For what felt like forever, I slept. Eventually, the mad ravings of the man trapped in here became a part of my dreams no matter if my eyes were shut or not.

Reality no longer made any sense and I didn’t try to make it.

Just when I thought that I might be on the brink of death, the sound of a drumbeat rang out all around me. My world was obliterated in darkness and when a moment of brief clarity came over me, I recognized that my eyelids weren’t even open to see what was happening. With an inordinate amount of effort, I dragged them open and cried out softly as the dryness in my eyes caused a painful tingling sensation to probe deep into my skull. I tried blinking several times to moisten them and although they still ached, it seemed to help some. I had trouble focusing on her for several moments and the delayed realization that it wasn’t a drumbeat that I had heard washed over me. There was a woman standing in front of me. It was just her footsteps that I’d heard pounding against the stone. I furrowed my brow in confusion, trying to make sense of the sudden apparition before me. Was she a ghost? Was I already dead?

“Oh, Luna,” the voice whispered in horror. “I’ve never seen you this bad.”

It was definitely female. A finger pressed beneath my chin and I cried out, the sound more like a croak than anything else. I was so dehydrated that just her touch felt like sandpaper against my skin.

A glass rim was pressed to my lips, forcing me to lift my head even further. Cold liquid sloshed against my tongue and I instinctively began to drink. I gulped down one mouthful after the next until the cup was pulled away from me. I whimpered in desperation, wanting to finish every last drop.

“Slowly, Luna. If you drink that quickly, you might get sick,” she said firmly.

I licked my cracked lips and tried to calm myself, slowly realizing that the water had granted me a short respite from the constant pain, and I was grateful for it.

She’d brought a lantern with her. The fire flicked inside the glass, casting shadows on dark hole I was kept prisoner inside. I noticed a metal bowl in her hands, and she lifted it so that I could see it.

“I’ve brought you something to eat,” she said softly.

Maybe she was an angel, and this was all just a hallucination. Maybe none of this was real and she was just a figment of my imagination. Perhaps I was already dead.

I’d forgotten my hunger, but when the sound of the spoon scraped against the edge of the bowl, it returned with a furious intensity that felt like it was going to tear me in two. I cried out and doubled over, suffering noisily until the pain finally receded. I tried to lift myself back up, but I was too weak, and my kind visitor used her own strength to lift me back up onto my feet. I struggled to stand, and she finally wound an arm around my waist, helping me to kee

p myself balanced and upright. I softly murmured my thanks and she hushed me.

She fed me the first spoonful of broth and I moaned. I was sure that it was the blandest soup ever to grace a bowl, but at that moment, it was the most delicious thing I had ever tasted. I ate every last drop from that bowl, the warm liquid taking the edge off the mind-bending hunger that continued to rip at my insides.

For several minutes, I enjoyed the rare feeling of satiety before I gained a stronger footing and the woman was finally able to step away. She let me drink the rest of the glass of water shortly thereafter and in the soft light of the lantern, I finally got a good look at her.

Her dark hazel eyes looked at me with a certain sadness. Her face was smudged with dirt and her red hair was tied up tight in a braid and tucked beneath the wrap around her head. Strands of auburn hair framed her face, having escaped the confines of her braid long ago.

I recognized her.

Her name was Dyna.

A long time ago, I would have called her my friend, but I doubted that she remembered me. We’d grown up together, cloistered away from the masses. She’d been assigned as my maidservant but when I’d been given to Thranar, he’d demanded that she serve in the kitchens instead. I hadn’t been allowed to see her after that.

She reached for me, cupping her hand beneath my chin. She stood much taller than me and I had to lift my head up to meet her eyes. Her eyes were glassy, and she shook her head.

“It is such a shame to see you treated like this simply because you had the misfortune of being born an omega,” she whispered. Dyna wasn’t an omega like me. She was a beta, which meant she would never fall victim to the mating urges that held my kind captive to the alphas that claimed us. The Cult didn’t care for beta women. They weren’t as profitable as an omega was.

She used her fingers to turn my head, tracing the tips across the mark on my shoulder and she drew in a breath. “Thranar would have never claimed you like this,” she breathed nervously.

“He didn’t,” I answered, my voice cracking from misuse.

“Where is your alpha? Is he here?” she asked, her voice dropping with concern.