First order of business in self-rescue: Get out of room.
I tried the knob. Surprisingly, it opened. I'd expected Stephen to keep me under lock and key. Poking my head out, there wasn't a guard standing outside, or anyone in the hallway. I supposed Stephen didn't care if I cruised around the estate, he'd ensured my inability to escape with his twelve foot, barbed wired fence outside and the pack of werewolves that patrolled the grounds.
"Movie, Mommy." I heard a child demand as I tiptoed down the hallway.
"What do you say?" A woman asked.
"Pwwease."
I slowed my steps in front of an open door and listened to the sounds of a TV. Peeking my head into the room, I saw a little boy with wavy golden hair and piercing blue eyes sitting on a little blue chair. A woman with curly chestnut colored hair knelt down in front of the TV fiddling with a Blu-Ray player.
"I hate this thing," she complained, as she pushed all the buttons on the remote and numerous screens popped up on the TV screen. "Why does your father have to have the most high-tec equipment?"
"I dunno?" The little boy answered.
"Hello." I walked into the room. The woman's head shot up, surprised, before giving me a wary look. "Do you need me to help you with that?" I offered. She didn't answer, but continued to watch me as I approached her. Once close enough, I extended my hand.
She released a loud sigh, giving me the remote. "If you can."
Closing all the pop up screens, I changed the output, and the movie came on, already started.
"Yeah!" The little boy clapped his hands, settling into his chair.
"Thanks," the woman said.
"I'm Avery." I placed the remote on the coffee table.
"Cleo." She gave me a half-hearted smile. "You're his new one, huh?"
"Sorry?"
"Stephen's. You're his new girl?"
"I guess so."
"What a double standard, huh?" She sat down on the leather couch.
I crossed my arms over my chest. "Double standard about what?"
"Stephen. He can have all the mate's he wants, but we have to settle for sharing him."
"Sharing?" I must sound so ignorant to her, repeating everything she said like a trained parrot, but I had no idea what she was talking about. I didn't want him at all. As far as I was concerned, she could have him.
She started to smile, but it held a cold edge. "Oh, don't tell me you thought it was just going to be you and him?" She started to laugh. "You're just another variety for another day of the week. I don't think he has a girl with gray eyes, maybe that's why he added you."
"I don't think it's my eyes," I murmured under my breath. "How many mates does he have?" I asked, louder.
She thought about it for a minute. "Eight, plus you, so nine."
I blinked. How could one guy handle that many women? I supposed when you're king, you managed.
"And your son?" I nodded to the little boy, who looked an awful lot like Stephen.
"His."
"How many kids does he have?"
"All of them?" her tone turned bitter. "Or only the important pups?"
"All of them, I guess."
"Seventeen. But Emma's pregnant now, and she's having twins, so in a couple months, nineteen."
My jaw dropped. "That's a lot of kids."
Her eyes looked me over. "Now that you're here, he'll have more. Better hope you give him pups though." She reached forward, grabbing the remote to turn down the volume. I noticed she had a mark on her wrist similar to the one I had from Logan on my neck. Stephen's mark no doubt.
"Why?" I asked, but I already knew the answer. He only wanted werewolves.
"Isabelle had three girls, and Stephen barely talks to her anymore."
"So why doesn't she leave?"
She gave me a funny look. "Why would she? She gets everything she wants here. Just because he pays her no attention, doesn't mean Stephen doesn't take care of her and her girls. If she leaves him, she'll have to support herself and her girls alone. At least here she has the rest of us."
"Can she date?"
Cleo arched an eyebrow. "What do you think? Stephen doesn't share."
"But you all have to share him."
She shrugged. "He's gorgeous, and he takes good care of us. It's a fair enough trade."
"Ugh. Not for me." I'd meant to say that more to myself, but it had flown from my lips before I could stop it.
"Do you think you have a choice? Stephen makes the decisions. If he doesn't want you anymore, then maybe you can leave, but until then, you're his."
This conversation was making me even more desperate to find a way out of here. I knew this kind of thing was natural for wolves in the wild, but I'd hoped werewolves had some type of human decency inside them.
I guessed not.
With a smile and a good-bye, I left Cleo and headed down the hall back to the stairs. They went both up, and down, since jumping off one of the balconies for escape didn't sound that appealing, I headed downstairs.
Getting to the main hallway, I stopped on the last step to listen. I didn't hear anyone, so I followed the runner to the front door.
The door started to open, so I quickly ducked down one of the side hallways. I heard Stephen talking to one of his guards about the council's arrival. Deciding I wanted to be anywhere but there, I quickly moved down the hallway. It ended at a door that led downstairs. I quietly opened it and slipped into the stairwell. Maybe I'd find a secret passageway that led off the territory. At the very least, I hoped to find a door that led outside.
The stairs continued down for some time. I realized as I walked, that these stairs led under the castle. I crossed my fingers hoping that this was an emergency evacuation route, or that I'd find a cold cellar with a door that led outside.
The stairs ended at a corridor. I stopped to listen, but besides the distant drip of water, and creaks of an old building settling, I didn't hear any voices. Feeling confident I was alone, I started down the passage. Light fixtures with dim or burned out bulbs sporadically lit my way. The farther I got from the stairs my unease grew. I started to feel claustrophobic, like the walls were closing in around me. I refused to turn back, though. I'd already come this far. Wouldn't that just be my luck, to turn around only to find out later that the way out was only a few feet in front of me. Pushing against my fear, I continued, until finally the dimly lit hallway ended at another steel door. I pulled it open and stepped through.
The room was large with rows of white tables set every few feet. Sitting on top of some of the tables were microscopes, while others held computers and pieces of equipment hooked into the monitors, along with neatly piled papers and notebooks. Hanging on one wall of the room was a large dry-erase board filled with formulas and calculations that I didn't understand. A white fridge sat in the far corner with white cabinets and shelves surrounding it. I opened the doors and found organized piles of syringes, test tubes, and elastic tubing for taking blood. The place was obviously some kind of medical laboratory. Looking around, I couldn't figure out what exactly they tested. Maybe werewolves didn't go to human hospitals, so they completed all medical procedures in house.
At the far end of the room, I noticed another steel door. Walking through the lab, I headed to it. This had to be the exit. Every lab needed a second exit, in case of explosions or toxic spills, right? I pulled open the door open and stepped through.
Lining each wall stood cages. The cells had tarnished, leaving me to wonder if they were made of silver. Each cage had a heavy padlock on the door. Stepping closer, I noticed claw marks dug into the stone of the walls and floors. There wasn't a cot, or even a toilet in any of the prisons. The only thing in each cage was wrist and ankle shackles, along with tarnished muzzles, fastened into the wall by heavy chains.
I stared, dumbfounded at the disgusting sight in front of me. Even as a prison for criminals, it seemed cruel, but I could tell from the claw marks that Stephen caged werewolves here. It made me wonder if Logan's cage looked this brutal too.
My stomach rolled, and I had to cover my mouth hoping to keep the vomit in. Leaving the cages behind, I quickly made my way back through the lab, down the corridor and back upstairs. When I made it back to the main floor, Stephen had disappeared. With my brain spinning, I sprinted upstairs to my room.
It took me a couple tries to find it, but after trying locked doors, and finding rooms filled with toys and clothes, I realized I lived in the wing reserved for Stephen's mates. This entire place made me queasy. I shut my door and sat down on the bed, staring off at the wall.
Why did Stephen have a medical laboratory and cages, that by the looks of them, he frequently used?
He was an jerk, but he couldn't have that many people out to kill him. Did he torture people in those cages, then test pieces of them in the lab? What exactly went on here? Suddenly becoming a puppy mill wasn't my only concern. If Stephen had some fetish for studying werewolves, my existence probably had his curiosity peaking.
My heart pounded, as visions of the cells imprinted themselves on my brain. I clenched my hands into fists, inhaling a few deep breaths. Don't lose it. Don't lose it. I wanted to go home so bad. What I wouldn't give to feel normal again?
I don't know how long I stared off at the wall, minutes maybe, or hours. A knock on my door, followed by it opening brought me back to the here and now.
Christian stepped in carrying a tray filled with food. He placed it on the coffee table, before coming over to me. "Avery, King Stephen has allowed you to eat in your room tonight. Tomorrow the council will arrive, and you are required to attend the meeting."
I shrugged. "Whatever." His words had no meaning to me, it all sounded like some foreign language. King. Allowed. Required. Council. None of it made any sense. This wasn't my life.
Christian stood at the doorway his unusual eyes watching me. "What?" I snapped. "You have more rules, or requirements to give me?"
"No." He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, looking away. "I wondered if you liked to play games."
"Games? What games? Like chase Avery through the forest, or board games?"
"Board games," he answered with a smirk, looking up. "Do you want to play some tonight? I thought you might be lonely."
Now I stared at him. He did seem genuine, but something about the build of his body, and the shade of his blue eye, reminded me of Stephen. I wasn't sure if I could spend the evening pretending everything was fine, while I played games with the King's semi-look alike. But what other option did I have? It was either that, or staring off at the walls in silence. "Sure," I agreed. "Come by whenever you want."
"I'll be back in a couple hours." He shot me a grin, before leaving.
Dinner consisted of a roasted Cornish hen, mini potatoes, steamed green beans in some sort of sweet glaze, and a piece of chocolate cake for desert. King Stephen must employ a professional chef on staff, because it definitely tasted of five star quality. I ate everything. After piling the empty dishes onto the tray on the coffee table, I turned on the TV.
I watched a couple sitcoms and actually started to feel a little better about my situation. I hadn't seen Stephen since he took me from my pack, and with any luck, he'd forget about me completely. Christian would come around any time to play games and I found myself looking forward to it.
A knock sounded on my door. Expecting Christian, I turned off the TV. I removed my dirty dishes from the coffee table and placed them on the floor, giving us room to set up the game boards. The door started to open, and to my horror, Stephen walked in, shutting it behind him.
He wore black dress pants with a white button up shirt. He'd rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, displaying an expensive watch on his wrist.
"Hello, pet," he greeted.
"What do you want?" I inched away from him.
He grinned, but the smile held an edge of challenge to it. "I see your disposition is still undesirable. You know, most women in your place feel very blessed, and are willing to do whatever I want to keep me happy."
I released a humourless laugh. "You're not my type. And I couldn't care one way or another whether you're happy."
He stared at me a moment, his blue eyes locking on mine. "You will learn your place," he finally said. Walking around the couch, he stopped in front of me. I held my ground, but he scared me. A lot. Where Logan's power had tingled, Stephen's felt like it bit into me. It hurt just being near him. "Take off your clothes," he demanded.
"There is no way that's happening," I scoffed, trying to move out of his way. He grabbed me, and shoved me backwards. Stumbling, I hit the edge of the couch and fell back. Pinning me to the couch with his eyes, he began unbuttoning his shirt.
He was going to hurt me. All my false bravado vanished, as my heart leapt up into my throat and fear curled a tight knot in my stomach making me nauseous. My limbs felt like jelly, pinned in place by his stare. I could see it in his eyes that he knew I was afraid. It seemed to make him more excited. The blue of his eyes growing brighter as the gold ring formed around his irises. His lips curled up into a lascivious leer, exposing the tips of his fangs. After tossing his shirt to the ground, he started to undo his pants. Anxiety hit a fever pitch, and I did the only thing I could think of to get away.
I kicked him in the groin.
He crouched over to hold himself, and in that moment that his eyes slid off me, I jumped up onto the couch. Using a karate move - I'm sure I picked up from a slasher film - I kicked him in the face. He stumbled backwards tripping over the coffee table. He fell to the ground, shattering the table to pieces in his crash.
I needed my gun. Since wishes and positive thinking weren't magically going to retrieve it for me from the other side of the room, I'd have to rely on fear and determination. Scrambling over the couch, I lurched toward the bed. I had a moment of disillusioned victory as my fingers barely brushed the duvet before a strong hand grabbed my calf, hauling me backwards.
Stephen flipped me over, and climbed on top of me. One of his eyes had swelled shut, and his nose bled. Perhaps if this was a friendly wrestling match I would have felt smug that my kick had made good contact. As it was, my body had reached defcon one. I struggled, throwing fists at his face, and trying to wiggle out from under him, but it was useless. He had me crushed beneath him, using his full weight to pin me to the floor. I reverted to clawing, and gauging his eyes.
As retaliation, he smacked me in the face. Hard. The hit stunned me enough that I stopped flaring, giving him the opportunity to grab my hands in one of his. With his free hand, he punched me in the face. My lip started to bleed and the coppery, earthy tang of my own blood filled my mouth.
"I hate to ruin your pretty face," he said with a grin. "But it's not your face I want. If you don't stop fighting me, I'll tie you up."
"I hate you," I screamed. "Someone help me!"
His grin turned cruel. "No one's coming to help you. You belong to me, now."