Page 2 of An Uncertain Claim

“Not much help, but it will do.” My kidnapper sighed, then shoved me hard, and my feet scrambled to keep me upright as I careened toward a corner. I slammed into the wall and slid down to land hard on my ass. He glared at me, then started pacing in front of the door. I stayed in a crumpled heap and watched him carefully. I wanted him to think he’d overpowered me, mentally and physically—exwhat he wanted, so I hoped he would slip up in his arrogance.

“I could do it here, but there isn’t enough time,” he muttered to himself. “I could start a fire to mask our scents, but then they’d just follow the fucking fire.” His face reddened as his temper rose. After around ten minutes, I hadn’t been able to come up with a plan to escape and I almost gave up. But my panther brushed her fur under my skin and shared her determined energy, born from the fierce need to protect our cub.

The killer glanced in my direction, and his eyes scanned over me. He clearly liked what he saw because his dark eyes glinted with satisfaction, and he relaxed just a bit. As he walked toward me, the tips of his claws broke through his fingertips, then he stopped in front of me. His hands flexed, but I exhaled shakily when the claws retracted. “You know, some people like it when their victims fight. They enjoy the struggle because it makes the win so much more satisfying.” He shrugged and a lethal smile curled his lips. “Okay, some people includes me, if we’re going to be picky about it.” His mouth flattened and he glared at me. “And yet I prefer you as you are now. Cowering and hopeless. Perhaps because I’ve had enough of your fight.” He walked back and forth in front of me a few times before turning to scowl down at me again. “Still, I must be methodical about this, right? I can’t just kill you quickly and be done with you. Where is the gratification in that?”

I honestly didn’t know if his determination to make me suffer was a good or bad thing. It gave me time to figure out how to flee, but if I didn’t, he would torture me until he felt fulfilled. Then kill me.

Something caught his eye a few feet to my left and he moved closer to inspect it. “These are thermal blankets. They should help muffle—oof!”

While something else held his attention, I’d risen into a crouch and swept a leg out, aiming for the back of his knees so they buckled and he fell to the ground. Then I jumped up and ran as fast as my legs would carry me. Unfortunately, being extremely tired, and pretty sure I’d broken at least one rib when I smashed into the wall, my pace . I needed to shift. My panther would be faster, and the rib would heal quickly, but the sharp pain and my labored breathing slowed me down. He caught up to me in less than a minute and before I could shift, or fight, he had me on my back. With one arm pressing on my windpipe, he slammed his other fist into my stomach, knocking the breath—and the fight—out of me.

My heart stopped as terror for my cub built inside me, but succumbing to the fear would only lessen our chances of survival. I needed to focus on getting us out of this situation first.

I went limp and his eyes narrowed at my hasty submission. But after studying my features for a few seconds, he backed off enough to grab hold of my arm in another tight grip and yank me to my feet.

For some unknown reason, he didn’t head back to the shack, instead stomping toward a particularly thick spot in the brush. The trees were close together with their branches tangled, creating a wall of sorts, though there were less dense spots that people could go through. My captor dragged me through the mess of leaves and sharp sticks, leaving scratches on my arms and face. We emerged into a small, open grassy area, surrounded by the trees like a secret garden. He stopped and rounded on me with a menacing glare. “Don’t take one step from this spot or I’ll gut your front this time. Starting with your stomach.”

I kept my expression neutral and nodded to convey my understanding. His eyes roamed my face again and when he didn’t see whatever he hoped to find, he sneered and released my arm to begin pacing. “You know, puss, a little birdie told me about your tainted blood.” His expression turned triumphant, until he realized he hadn’t riled me, and the scowl returned. “You half-breeds are already weak, humiliated and degraded by your diluted gene pool.” He stopped in front of me, and his eyes slid over me from head to toe. The pure evil in his dark eyes left a residue that felt grimy and made me long for a shower. Though I imagined he usually hid the monster lurking inside him beneath his boyish features, artfully unruly hair, and dimples, he didn’t bother to mask it with me. “Your kind isn't normally worth my time. Your watered-down DNA will eventually cause your line to die out. However, the more I thought about you, I couldn’t stop thinking about the baby you’re carrying.”

Chapter Two

Peyton

Istiffened slightly and he smiled smugly at having elicited a reaction from me. “I have to kill you for interfering and because you’ve seen my face. But that cub…” He gestured to my stomach and my arms automatically curled protectively around my cub. “Children should be neither seen nor heard, so I’m going to rid the world of another unwanted kid.”

My eidetic memory filed away everything he said for later study, but my attention remained focused on his movements while I slowly twisted the ring on my thumb to keep calm. I watched for signs of attack, but he kept bouncing back and forth between calm and agitated. Again, I wondered where the fuck my babysitters were. It surprised me when we stopped. I wondered if he knew something I didn’t that made him comfortable enough to pause in his escape. However, it was also possible that he was just that unhinged and cocky. I was betting on the latter.

A breeze tickled my nose and I leaned into it to see what I could smell, but I almost toppled over when my captor suddenly stood in front of me. He kept me from falling with another bruising grip on my arm, but what concerned me were the claws poised with their tips digging into my stomach just hard enough to remind me that he could shatter my world in an instant. “I told you not to move, Peyton.”

My eyebrows lifted high on my forehead. He’d only ever called me ‘puss,’ so I hadn’t realized he knew my real name. I felt like an idiot for not figuring that out when he’d talked about my blood.Shit.

“I can’t help it if I need to shift my weight from time to time,” I said slowly. He narrowed his eyes and studied my features for a few seconds before retracting his claws and releasing my arm as he stepped a few inches away from me.

We weren’t getting anywhere and in order to get out of this mess, I needed to take some chances. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours.” His mouth flattened and for a second, I wondered if I’d chosen the wrong tactic. But I’d already started the ball rolling, so I followed my hunch and spoke again. “Don’t you want me to know the name of the man who beat me at this little game?”

His perfectly shaped lips curled up in a malevolent smile and I breathed a mental sigh of relief that I’d read him right. I’d been fairly confident that he wouldn’t be able to pass up the chance to gloat and name himself the victor. “You have a point, puss. I suppose you should know the name of the person about to take your life out of you. However, you’ve slipped out of my grasp too many times and on the very slim chance it happens again, let’s just go with B.”

I played out my options in my head and ultimately decided not to push any further on the issue of his name. Especially when I saw the tiny spark in his bottomless eyes.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Playing on his ego had backfired. His mind had probably conjured up images of killing me and mixing it with his arrogance had been like striking a match, kindling his sexual response. If it continued to burn and grow, he could conceivably decide to live out a fantasy starring me. Though it wouldn’t satisfy his regular craving, it still meant a very dead me.

“She didn’t inspire me at all,” B suddenly offered.

“She?”

He licked his lips as he stared at me, and his claws slowly extended. “I was frustrated. Angry at you for surviving and then disappearing. Then I saw her, in the right place and the right time. Long black hair, emerald-green eyes, athletic body. I wondered if it would take the edge off.”

My stomach rolled again.Is he saying…?

“But she wasn’t you, no matter how hard I pretended.”

Fuck. Guilt hit me hard, and I swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in my throat. He’d killed someone in place of me.

“To make matters worse, she was a vampire.” He shuddered delicately, then placed a finger at the pulse in my neck. I fought the need to brush it away and kick him in the balls. Mostly because his fucking claws were tearing my T-shirt as he dragged them from just beneath my breast to the waistband of my yoga pants. They drew only the tiniest amount of blood, but the scent seemed to throw kindling on the embers of his arousal.

The slashes were also a reminder, as if I had forgotten his plans to rip me apart and destroy my child.

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