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THIS BOOK IS RATED R!!! IF YOU ARE NOT OF LEGAL AGE IN YOUR AREA, DON'T CONTINUE. © 2012 Kelly Masters (Intellectual Copyright). No reproduction in part or whole without written express permission please.
As the title says, this is about twins and their mate. If 3somes (menage a trois) offend you, read something else. If your mind is perverted, sick & twisted, welcome! >;-)
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Prologue
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Alex and Brock Conrad are identical twins, they have grown up sharing everything. From the beginning as young children they could feel each other's emotions, know when the other was hurt and were able to communicate by telepathy. They could also find one another, no matter how great the distance between them, by "following" their twin bond.
They had gone to the same college, but decided to study different areas. What one learned, the other learned so to take the same courses would have been redundant. They agreed that Alex would study Business Management with a minor in Art Appreciation and Brock would study Architecture with a minor in Finance. Both graduated in the top 2% of their class at the elite Ivy League college. Since they were dominant men it was an easy decision to start their own company- Conrad Architecture.
Within 5 years they had graced the cover of the top architectural magazines several times. Money filled their coffers to overflowing, they were able to afford anything their extended family needed. The only thing they longed for was to find their mate.
Alex and Brock were joint Alpha's of the southwest werewolf pack. Their territory covered Arizona, New Mexico and southern California. After college they had come home to Flagstaff, Arizona and their parents had made them joint Alpha's.
There's just a couple of problems facing the twins: a rogue werewolf was murdering members of their pack- leaving the tortured bodies staked out in the woods surrounding the Alpha's house. And they had less than a year left to find their mate. If they were unable to find and mate with her before their 28th birthday...
This was the curse of all werewolves. An unmated werewolf would lose control of his or her wolf, go rogue and start killing. To prevent this, the pack's council would have to authorize the werewolf's execution.
The 28th birthday was the deadline for any werewolf to find his or her mate. It was at that time for some reason that their wolf would take over control and start killing.
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Chapter One
The huge wolf silently, stealthily made his way toward his prey who had just exited a bar. The rising crescent moon turned the summer night into a silver-tinted show of nature's beauty but he didn't notice. The wolf blended in with the shadows, making sure to stay downwind of the Clear Creek Pack member.
When the male grabbed the hand of a human female who had followed him outside, the wolf knew its prey wouldn't be paying attention to his surroundings soon. He followed the couple as they went behind the bar, the woman giggling drunkenly.
Neither spoke as the male grabbed her and pressed her against the back wall with his body. He began to fondle the woman's breasts as they kissed. Her hands unzipped his jeans and pulled his stiff dick out, caressing it.
The wolf backed off and changed into his human form. Hands picked up the pack which had been around the wolf's neck. He quietly slipped into clothes and grabbed the tranquilizer gun, loading it silently.
The next part was what the wolf hated most, but it was necessary. Grabbing a plastic container full of stale beer out of the pack, he generously splashed it on his shirt and jeans. Scooping a handful of dirt, he then rubbed it into his hair. Satisfied that his scent was covered, he picked up the tranq gun. Keeping it behind his back he walked to the edge of the woods.
The couple were still going strong, moans and grunts filling the air. Stumbling drunkenly out of the woods, he kept his head down but watched the pack male for any signs of recognition. The male was oblivious to the werewolf's presence, concentrating on the hot and excited human who was currently bouncing on his cock. Her legs were wrapped around his waist and her back was against the wall.
When he was less than ten feet from the couple, the werewolf shot the male. He had time to drop the woman and start to turn around before falling to his knees, then crumbling to the ground.
The woman looked confused, she stared at the male who had collapsed wondering what happened. Shaking her head she then looked up at what she thought was a drunk man judging from the odor of alcohol coming off of him.
A wave of uneasiness ran through her at the sight of his eyes. They were filled with contempt, disgust and hatred. She shivered and a small whimper escaped as he moved towards her.
"You're in the wrong place at the wrong time," he growled.
Scrambling backwards on the soft grass as he walked to her, she whimpered again as fear clogged her throat.
"Don't worry, I'll make it quick." he said.
Before her brain could fully assimilate his words, she felt his hands on her head. With one quick jerk the wolf broke her neck.
Turning to the male, he easily lifted the limp body into a fireman's carry and ran back into the woods. His wolf was disappointed at the lack of a fight, but knew it was better this way. No fight meant no witnesses which meant freedom to keep killing the damn pack males.
Binding the unconscious male with silver handcuffs and leg shackles, he bitterly thought about the Clear Creek Pack. Those damn twins thought they owned everything and everyone in the southwest. Well, they didn't own him; they never would.
Finished reloading the pack, he tied it around his waist. The werewolf easily picked up the male and started running deeper into the woods. The Alpha twin's house was only two miles straight through the forest.
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The male pack member was brought out of oblivion into a world of pain and fire. He whimpered at the onslaught of agony and tried to move, but found that his body couldn't. Confused, he opened his eyes to find a stranger bent over him.
The stranger smiled, but there was no warmth or friendliness in it. It was more a baring of teeth. Looking around the pack male noticed an IV bag filled with a cloudy liquid hanging above him on a tree branch, he followed the line seeing that it ended at his arm.
He realized something else after calling on his wolf- he couldn't shift or even mind-link with the Clear Creek Pack members. This, more than anything else, sent a bolt of pure terror through him. He struggled against his bonds, but couldn't get free and only ended up weaker.
"Please, try again. It's extremely amusing to see you struggle for freedom, knowing that it's just out of reach," said the stranger. There was an edge of sadistic humour in his voice.
Pain and fire were eating the male up. He tried to speak, but found that only made the fire in his face worsen. Chilling laughter drew his eyes back to the stranger.
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WARNING:
GRAPHIC AND DISTURBING SCENES FOLLOW. FOR THE FAINT OF HEART, SKIP TO CHAPTER TWO.
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"Well..." the stranger flipped open the males wallet, "Paul, is it? Rather a dull name you got stuck with. But don't worry, you won't have it much longer. I guess you're wondering why you can't move, speak or mind-link."
Paul felt hopeless and helpless as the stranger gazed at him. Who was this guy? What did he want? Then his last sentence sunk in to Paul's pain-filled brain.
'Mind-link'?? Only werewolves knew about that ability! The truth hit Paul like a sack of bricks: this was no human- he was the rogue werewolf who was murdering Pack members! Dread and horror filled his gut at this realization. He'd seen a couple of the bodies this psycho werewolf had left behind.
"Ah, I see you've figured out who I am. Took you long enough. Let me formally introduce myself, I'm Daemon," the werewolf said. "You're going to die tonight and it won't be an easy death."
Paul struggled feebly at this cold statement, but he lacked the strength to break free.
"Don't waste you're energy, you're chained with silver cuffs on your ankles and wrists. The IV is a personal mixture of mine and further inhibits your wolf from helping you. As for why you can't speak?" A humorous, gleeful edge entered Daemon's voice, "Your jaws and lips are wired closed with silver! Isn't it amazing how the strongest creatures can be brought low by the simplest things?"
Paul literally shook with fear, he was only 22 years old and this rogue was going to murder him. He just hoped none of his family found his body, he didn't want them to see what was going to happen.
Daemon leaned over Paul holding a long, lethal hunting knife. His smile caused a shudder to run through Paul; it was full of malice, wickedness and anticipation.
Watching the knife come closer, Paul squeezed his eyes shut.
"Uh-uh, we can't have that. You're going to watch what I do pup."
Paul felt a hand holding his face absolutely still. He couldn't move the slightest bit.
"Mmagh!" he tried to scream as he felt the tip of the knife slicing his eyelid, fire burned through his face. He heard quiet laughter, filled with a sick happiness. As the knife continued to slowly slice his eyelid, Paul vaguely felt himself lose control of of his bodily functions.
Suddenly he could see, albeit through a red haze that he knew was blood. He tried to blink it out of his eye and felt his eyelid sliding against the side of his face. Then the knife was back and with a searing pain Daemon finished cutting off the scrap of eyelid.
Paul began to cry, the salt from his tears making his eye burn. He knew there was no way out of this- tonight he would die.
"Unbelievable, the first cut and you've already shit your pants! Now I'm mad." Daemon growled.
He held Paul's head still and slowly cut off his other eyelid. Paul tried again to scream, but it came out as no more than a whimper. Next he felt the knife cut slowly in a burning circle around his face.
Daemon laughed cruelly as he started peeling off Paul's face an inch at a time. The pain had become so torturous that he wished he could pass out, but even that small relief was denied him.
When Daemon finally had the face in his hands, he laid the knife down and held Paul's face up for him to see. Peering through the eye holes, he looked down at Paul and laughed.
"I don't think it'll fit, besides I like mine better!"
He carefully laid the face on a tarp beside Paul's immobilized body. Reaching for the knife again, Daemon cut a wide strip of skin down the center of Paul's chest; once again he slowly peeled the skin free from the underlying muscles and tendons.
By this time Paul was crying and wordlessly begging for death. Moans were constantly pouring from his lip-less mouth. Daemon simply ignored him, too caught up in his enjoyment to notice.
He cut a circle around each shoulder, then one around the base of Paul's neck. Making an inward cut from each of the shoulders to the skinless area in the center of his chest, Daemon turned Paul's skin into a vest and carefully began to strip it off the werewolf.
Holding Paul's upper body off the ground, he pulled the skin loose from his back slowly. Daemon really enjoyed hearing the agonizing pain in the incoherent moans coming from his bared mouth. Once the skin was free, he took true pleasure in letting go and watching Paul wince (as much as he could) and cry out when his skinless back hit the rough ground.
"Oops! Guess I should be sorry about that, huh? Too bad, so sad. But, wait- the very, very best part is next!"
Daemon frowned when he saw Paul hadn't heard and looked like he was going into shock. Scrambling over to the IV, he grabbed a needle off the ground then quickly injected the contents into Paul's arm.
Within a few seconds Paul started to rouse. When Daemon's face appeared in his line of sight he couldn't help the scream that tried to break out. Only a pitiful whimper escaped though. For a few seconds he had been free of the pain, enveloped in darkness. Now he was back in this living nightmare of incalculable cruelty.
"You shouldn't have done that, you were about to miss the absolutely best part!"
Horror filled Paul at the sick enthusiasm Daemon's voice held. He didn't have to wonder for long what was next. Sliding a hard rock under Paul's head as a makeshift pillow, Daemon then moved between Paul's legs with the bloody knife in his hand.
Adrenaline raced through his body as Paul realized what was next. He jerked and twisted the silver shackles, trying his hardest to break free. But all he gained was cruel laughter and burns on his wrists and ankles.
He tried to turn his head so he wouldn't have to watch, but found he still couldn't move it. This couldn't be real, he was not about to watch as some sick werewolf emasculates him!
Looking up his eyes caught Daemon's. Wordlessly he plead with the older wolf for mercy.
"Watch!"
The abrupt command made Paul's eyes automatically lower to the knife. He saw and felt the tip enter the skin at the base of his dick, white-hot agonizing pain shot up his body. Wishing he still had eyelids, he watched and felt the blade circle his dick and ball-sack. Every new centimeter cut was cause for tears to run down his skinless face.
Never before, not until this cruel moment in time, had Paul ever wished to be smaller. Now he wished he was the size of an infant! Blood pooled around the base, he could feel it dripping from his sac.
But the worst hadn't even begun, he found out seconds after the knife finished it's journey around his equipment. No, far worse than the knife was starting now.
A silent scream ripped from his throat as he felt Daemon's fingers dig under the cut skin and start peeling it off like a banana. Stars burst in Paul's head, breath froze in his lungs, nothing mattered except the pain. His eyes were glued to the fingers peeling the skin carefully, slowly up and off him. A reluctant,morbid fascination held his eyes in place; even as he watched the skin pulled free with a disturbing wet sound.
A jolt of pain, never before experienced on this level ran through Paul's body. His back arched, digging his skinless shoulders into the hard ground. He felt nothing from his shoulders though.
Paul's world was consumed by the overwhelming agony radiating out from his now bare dick and balls. Finally, he felt death creeping up on him and welcomed it with open arms.
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So? What do you think? Ahem...sorry guys for the banana analogy. I'm a bad, bad girl and simply couldn't resist it. Comment, please!!