Page 12 of Gift from the Nexus

And Donald…

Donald enjoys my fight because he’s always been able to overpower me, so it’s his way of showing me he’ll always be able to force me to bend. It feeds the small little fragile ego within him. Taking my innocence at every opportunity, beating me bloody, locking me away, throwing me in graves. All of it was a way to make him feel superior in a world where he’s on the bottom of the latter. He holds no candle to my men, any man, in Elementra, and I have a feeling he’s always known that.

I sense the shift in the air instantly and know I’ve done a poor job of hiding my hatred. I was prepared for a backhand as soon as he pulled his fingers back, but nothing could’ve prepared me for him to grip my jaw softly and lower his mouth so close to mine his breath fans across my lips.

“No need to get fired up so fast, Willow. You’ll have plenty of time for that fighting spirit to come out. I already informed the guys how much you like to resist, so they’re looking forward to breaking you in. Are you ready to meet them?”

His laugh booms through the room as I snatch my jaw free from his grip and glare at his back as he walks toward the door. I grit my teeth so hard at the sound, my grinding is audible.

Not daring to take my eyes off him or any move he makes, I peer out my peripheral at Franklin, who’s rearranging his table as well as setting up a needle with tubing and blood bags. So one thing’s for sure. I’m obviously not bleeding enough, or at least fast enough for his liking.

What’s not for sure is what the other three men about to be in this room plan to do while he takes care of that.

My body tenses involuntarily when male laughter drifts in from the hallway just outside the door. It’s vile and makes me sick to my stomach knowing they’re about to walk in here willingly, with ill intentions, and they’re completely okay with doing so. Okay enough to seriously be cracking jokes right now.

“Brothers, meet your soon-to-be Primary, Willow,” Donald announces giddily as he steps to the side and lets the three other men in.

Letting my eyes drift boredly across them, the first thing I notice is how all of them, including Donald, have similar features. Not enough to be related, that’s obvious, yet they’re basically the same man, copy and paste with a different font.

They all have large builds, equal in height, various shades of dark hair, and deep brown eyes that, in certain lighting, would look black. There’s not a single thing that’s mesmerizing, remarkable, or even memorable about them. That doesn’t stop me from taking in every single detail, every little feature I can. The faces of the men who believe they’re going to force me to be theirs will forever be branded in my mind so when I escape this hell, if they’re lucky enough to survive it, I’ll never forget what they look like.

Inhaling deeply to settle my nerves, my lungs fill with the scent of a shifter, and I zero in on him. He’s strong, and my dragon attempts to poke her head up, but I have no clue what he is. I do know he stinks, though.

“That’s right, pup. I’m your new Alpha.” The brute smugly grins, seemingly pleased I pinpointed him first.

Pup?

A small smirk pulls at the corner of my mouth, and I want to snort or roll my eyes at him when I realize why he called me that, but I shove it down. Between that stupidly assumed insult and Franklin calling me a mongrel, I piece together they’ve been misinformed that I’m a wolf, or some sort of canine.

My lack of intimidation grates on his nerves and a small warning rumble starts to bud up from his throat. Our gazes stay locked in a battle for dominance as his growl grows louder and my body stays still, unwilling to flinch or cower. My dragon is securely locked down, despite her constant attempts to break free, and he’s getting angrier by the second that I don’t show any signs of submission.

“You will submit to me. One way or another,” he promises crudely.

No, no, I won’t.

“Let’s get this moving along, boys. We’ll need to get going here soon,” Franklin announces, shoving the needle in the crook of my elbow without warning. The sting of the sharp point forcing its way through my vein causes a hiss to fall from my lips and I crane my neck to the side to glare at him.

He pointedly ignores me, fiddling with the blood bag and tubing until he’s seemingly satisfied with it, then turns his attention back to the men in the room. Judging by the charged testosterone in the atmosphere, he’s still the man in charge, above them. They’re not far below him, but they still respect him immensely.

“Donald, it’s up to you how you’d like to handle this. The amount of blood is nonnegotiable, but how you want to get her to the ritual site is your call.”

My eyes bounce back and forth between Franklin and Donald, waiting for some explanation on what in the world he means by that. Even though I can’t put my finger on it yet, I know he’s using my blood for something more than feeding the creatures and this ritual site has something to do with binding me to them. Which isn’t going to happen, but why would they have to take me somewhere special to attempt to do that?

“I believe I’ll let Willow decide her own fate today. She can take the easy way out or the hard. Either way, we get what we want in the end. What do you say?” Donald asks me. All the men’s heads turn toward me, and their disgusting desires and anticipation crawl across my skin.

I don’t say anything. I stare blankly through Donald as if he and his words aren’t affecting me whatsoever. I highly doubt the choices he’s going to give me are ones that work in my favor, so there’s no point riling him up and feeding into his bait.

“One of two things are going to happen. One, I’ll take off those magical cuffs, escort you through the forest unrestrained, and you can willingly drain your magic, so we can bind you to us civilly. Or two, we stay here and test our own powers on you until you and your magic are too weak to fight back, and you’ll keep the cuffs. And we bind you how we please,” Donald informs me cheerily.

“What do you mean bind me?” I ask, clipped. I know how chosen Primaries are bound here in this realm. That was explained to me, but I need to understand how the Summum-Master is creating Nexuses and giving people powers.

“There’s a ritual of sorts where we consummate our bond together as a group. It’ll be much like our wedding night, just this time around you get four for one. Our power will weave together, strengthening us all, then our Leader will mark you as one of us.”

“You didn’t have power or magic in the non-magical realm,” I say meekly, hoping my small voice will pull the answer from him.

“No, I didn’t, but I do now.” He smiles confidently, looking around at the other men. “Maybe a proper introduction to your Nexus will help you decide and stop with this line of questioning.” Following his finger, he points to the shifter who’s staring at me like I’m an injured gazelle and he’s the hungry lion ready to pounce.

“When we heard of your trip to Terravile and the dominance you commanded, it was obvious our Nexus would need a stronger shifter to be able to break that little Alpha bitch mentality you have, so this is Max. He’s what you’d recognize as a saber-toothed tiger in the nonmagical realm, but well, much, much bigger. Here, his animal is called a Dentemtigirus.”

---