When He's an Alpha (The Olympus Pride 2)

Having shifted back to her human form, Bailey crouched beside her and did just that.

Gideon looked up at Tate, a cruel smirk shaping his mouth. “So glad you could join us.”

“I highly doubt that,” said Tate, menace etched into every line of his face. “Baby,” he called out without moving his eyes from the wolf, “how are you and Aspen doing?”

“Our injuries aren’t fatal, but they hurt like a mother,” replied Havana.

“I just called Sam,” Bailey informed him. “He’s on his way.”

“Gideon,” began Earl, his voice shaky, “I think … something’s …”

“You’re dying, dude,” said Bailey. “And I’m delighted to tell you that it’s gonna hurt a lot.”

Gideon’s eyes dropped to the gun Luke held. He lifted a taunting brow at the Beta. “Well? Aren’t you going to shoot me?”

Luke frowned. “Why would I do that?”

Tate cocked his head, staring at the wolf. “You’d thought we’d kill you straight off? Why? I warned you when you called me that you’d die hard. It wasn’t an empty promise. You should have heeded it. You didn’t. You should have believed me when I swore that I’d find you. You didn’t.” Tate took a single step toward him. “And you really, really shouldn’t have shot my mate. She’s taken enough bullets because of you. So I think it only fair that she gets to be the first to hurt you. You good with that, baby?”

“Oh yeah,” said Havana, taking the gun from Luke. She glared down at Gideon, who finally looked nervous. Yes, it was occurring to him that he didn’t have a way out of this.

Gideon’s eyes slid to the barrel of the gun as she aimed it at him. He swallowed. “Wouldn’t you like to know where the other loners are who were auctioned off?”

“You know where they all are?” asked Tate.

“I chipped them before I sent them off with their new owners,” replied Gideon. “Can’t risk them fleeing and hiding. I can tell you where they all are.”

Just then, Sam boarded the yacht. He quickly healed both Havana and the bearcat before taking a position by the wall.

“Sam here is our healer, as you might have guessed,” Tate told Gideon. “I brought him with us for three reasons. One, there was a possibility that the captives might need him. Two, I wanted a healer on hand in case one of our pride was hurt. Three … I needed him to be here while we tortured you, because we don’t want you to die too quickly, Gideon. There’d be no fun or real justice in that.”

Gideon’s breathing began to quicken. “We can talk first, surely. I can tell you where the other assets are.”

“You can tell us while we hurt you,” said Havana, who’d fully enjoy every moment of it. “I’d say you’ll tell us absolutely anything we want to know in the hope of making the pain stop. But it won’t stop. Not until we’re done, anyway.”

Gideon jerked toward her threateningly.

She smiled. “Oh, you thought I’d reflexively shoot in my defense? That’s cute.” Her devil all but rolled her eyes. “You know, I don’t use guns—I prefer to fight with teeth and claws, like any self-respecting shifter. But for you, I’ll make an exception. Call it a little tit for tat.” She twisted her mouth as her gaze roamed over his body. “Now, where do I begin?”

“I’d shoot his kneecap first,” said Bailey.

Aspen, now back in her human form, hummed. “I’d go for his gut. All the bile in his stomach will make the wound burn like holy hell.”

“Both ideas hold some appeal. I’ll get to them later.” Havana lowered the gun until it was pointed at his crotch. “You raped Keziah, didn’t you, Gideon? Probably raped many others, too.”

Fear glimmered in his eyes for the first time. “My men might have done.”

“Yes, they might have. But so did you and Earl.” Havana frowned. “I never did get why a guy would think that taking a female against their will made them a man. There’s nothing manly about it. The act is cruel. Cowardly. Dickless. And so I don’t think you need yours.”

His eyes widened, and he shook his head. “No.”

Havana pulled the trigger.

Tate massaged conditioner into his mate’s hair as the hot water drummed against their skin and pattered the base of the shower stall. Condensation streaked the tiled walls and the frosted glass door. The humid, steamy air was laced with her coconut-scented shampoo and conditioner.

After returning from the dock, they’d headed straight to the bathroom and into the shower. They both needed this. Needed to wash the evening away. Needed a bit of normal. Needed to feel clean again. Needed the tropical smells of her soap and hair products to drown out the scents of anger, fear, blood, and pain that had overwhelmed their senses and filled their lungs.