Page 16 of Forbidden Daddy Mate

“Sounds about right.” She stood. “I’ll get on those now.”

I reached out as she walked past, gently taking her by the bicep and pulling her back toward me.

“Is everything all right?” I asked.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” She gave a soft, dismissive laugh.

“It’s just…nothing. Never mind.” I let her go.

I watched as she hurried off. I couldn’t blame her for being jumpy. After our kiss the night before, I could imagine her not knowing how to act around me. I barely knew how to act around her.

Unless it has nothing to do with that and everything to do with the visitor this afternoon, a voice in my head whispered.

Frowning, I shook my head to clear it. I was being paranoid enough as it was. I didn’t need to add Freya keeping secrets from me to the list. If something bad had happened, she would have told me.

At least, that’s what I told myself.

***

Something was wrong.

My eyes shot open. Darkness surrounded me, but I could still see enough. Everything about my bedroom seemed normal.

Except my wolf seemed to disagree. He was snarling, pushing at the edges of my mind, wanting to break out. Something had agitated him.

My wolf had been right enough times for me to listen to him when he was like this. I leapt to my feet and hurried to the door, every one of my senses was on high alert for anything that might spell danger.

I heard it before I even grabbed the doorknob.

“Shh…shh. It’s all right,” a voice murmured somewhere down the hall. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. You don’t need to fight, do you?”

My stomach clenched and my wolf howled with rage when a familiar voice, but soft and vacant, muttered back, “No.”

“Good,” the first voice purred. “You’re going to come with us now. You want that, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Freya barely sounded like herself, but I would recognize that musical voice anywhere. My heart pounded.

A cloying, sickening smell of caramel wafted through the air, one I recognized immediately. Compulsion.

I bristled, rage fighting fear and the knowledge that I needed to move. Freya was in serious danger unless I did something. I needed to come up with a solid plan. But I didn’t have time. If I didn’t act soon, Freya was dead…or worse.

Not giving myself time to think, I flung open the door to my room—yanking it so hard that I nearly tore it off its hinges—then shifted, turning into a wolf. My wolf growled, relishing the freedom of being let free even as rage consumed us. I didn’t have time to savor it, though. There was too much at stake.

I charged through the halls, heading down the stairs to where the voices were coming from.

I padded through the halls as quickly as I could while still staying silent. The voices were moving away, heading down the stairs. I followed, my mind racing as I tried to come up with a plan while tempering my wolf’s anger. He was furious, wanting to charge and kill the intruders where they stood. But I had to be careful.

I reached the first floor, stopping around the corner from where I heard the voices before peering around to look.

The sandy-haired one from the other day stood in front of Freya, whose eyes were glassy and unfocused as she stared out at nothing. The dark-haired one, Ty, stood behind her, caressing her neck and arm as he held her in place.

“Which room is the old man in?” the sandy-haired one asked. Again, I got the overwhelming sense that I recognized him from somewhere. I remembered what Freya had said his name was.

Varin.

Freya blinked, shaking her head. Her eyes focused for a moment as she snapped out of the trance. Finally, she seemed to realize where she was and what was happening. She screamed, trying to wrench free of Tyr’s grasp.

“Relax,” he said, not letting go of her. “You don’t need to fight. Just tell us what we need to know. You want to tell us.”

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