Kitty and the Dead Man's Hand (Kitty Norville 5)

The alpha lycanthrope continued. “We’ll get to him soon enough, if we use you as bait.”

Now? Change now? Wolf growled.

No. I wasn’t sure we could break out of the chains, even as a wolf. Wait. Just wait. Balthasar wanted something from me, or I wouldn’t be here. I wanted to find out what.

I faked a laugh. “You really don’t like werewolves, do you?”

“That’s not true,” he said, stepping forward, close enough to reach out and brush his hand on my cheek. I pulled away, as much as I could, which wasn’t much. “I love werewolves.”

I bared my teeth and choked on my own growl. “What do you want?” I said.

“I want to test a theory,” he said, that damned smile touching his lips again. He was used to women falling all over him. Why’d he have to chain me to a wall?

“Theory?” I said, sputtering.

He stood in front of me, his gaze searching mine. I resisted an urge to look away. It was hard. He was stronger than me, I suspected. If I didn’t challenge him, I might get out of this. Wolf logic talking. I didn’t know what was going to get me out of this.

Balthasar said, “Tell me about your pack.”

This wasn’t the time to discuss werewolf social dynamics. I had an irrational fear—he’d go after them next. Go all the way to Denver to take out my people. I didn’t want to say anything. But he kept staring at me.

“I have a very nice pack,” I said, and it was true. “My own little family.”

“And who did you kill to get to be the alpha of your nice little family?”

“How do you know I did?”

“Because that’s how it works. You didn’t start out on top. In fact, if I had to make a guess, I’d say a pretty little thing like you started out damned near the bottom and had to fight her way up.”

I didn’t confirm or deny it. I may not have started out on top, but that didn’t mean I had to admit I’d started out on the bottom of the pecking order. And this was way too much innuendo.

“In fact,” he said, inching closer. I could feel his breath on me now. I couldn’t wriggle away from it. “I think you miss it a little.”

“Miss what?”

“Being the submissive. Letting someone else make the decisions. Not having any responsibility. You just have to lie back and take it. I think you miss showing your throat and belly to a big bad wolf.”

I remembered those days. Not so long ago, really. My alpha said jump, and I jumped, every time, and adored him for it. Abuse was still attention. We all competed for his attention, and sometimes the best way to get it was by showing your belly faster than anyone else. It was all tied up in sex, ego, and control, and when I was first brought into the p

ack, I was a sheltered suburban kid who’d never been exposed to that kind of world. I didn’t know what else to do but what I was told. I was older now. I’d seen a lot more. I knew a lot more. I didn’t have to lie back and take it if I didn’t want to.

Inside me, Wolf whined. Just a little bit. “That’s awfully presumptuous of you.”

“You don’t deny it.”

“And what do you expect me to do now, show you my throat and beg for it?”

He didn’t wait for me to show it to him. He took it, pitching forward, bracing one arm behind my back, and putting his mouth over my neck while his other hand held my breast. He kissed, sucked, nibbled, while pulling me close to him, like he could swallow me with his body. Pointed canine teeth—thick, like fangs—pressed into my skin. I flushed, heat and anger spreading from my gut through my whole body.

Then I thought: great. He wanted to rape me right here, in front of all his followers, and maybe he’d give them all a go at me. It settled me a little bit. Settled me enough. Because if that was all he did, all they did to me, I’d survive it. I knew I could survive it and get over it. It wouldn’t be the worst that could happen.

Didn’t mean I had to sit back and take it, either. There was a time when I would have. I laughed a little, at how far I had traveled since those days. It wasn’t nice, happy laughter. It was mocking. That made him pause; he must not have understood how I could possibly resist his ministrations. How I could not simply fall back into the role of the submissive, chained to the wall like so much meat, begging for more more more.

I may have been chained up, but when he pulled away, I knew I had a little bit of control. A tiny little bit. I could work with that. He looked at me, studying me, as if he could see what I was thinking. His eyes had turned an inhuman shade of green, glowing almost, slitted, smug like a cat’s.

I smiled. “Actually, I don’t miss it. My alpha always managed to ignore my safe word.”

Then I kicked. Braced against the chains and swung up, as hard as I could, realizing I probably couldn’t do much damage—especially since his followers were arrayed behind him, watching and waiting. The shackles cut into my wrists.