Page 11 of Kidnapped By the Wolf

“I’m pretty sure ‘goon’ is the correct word for someone who drugs and kidnaps people.”

The wolf clenches his jaw as he turns away, pulling out his phone and bringing it to his ear. He goes to the door and steps outside, speaking swiftly to whoever’s on the other end of the line.

While he’s distracted, I scoot my chair a few inches to the right and crane to look over my shoulder.

I was right about the narrow wall concealing a bathroom. Light is trickling in through the doorway, which means theremustbe a window in there.

The wolf reappears a moment later, looking extremely uncomfortable. “Supplies are en route,” he says quietly.

“You have people for that?”

“I have wolves for that.” He raises an eyebrow. “Wolves who are more . . . familiar with that sort of thing.”

“You mean female?”

“Yes.”

I nod, chewing on my bottom lip. I’d half hoped he might leave me alone to go fetch my “supplies” himself, but no such luck. Maybe wolf shifters aren’t as dumb as bears.

He crosses to the table and pulls out a chair, slicing his sandwich neatly in two and taking a huge bite. Silence stretches between us as he chews, and my stomach growls loudly.

Part of me wishes I’d taken him up on his offer of food. Although he’s been reasonable so far, I have no way of knowing if or when he’ll make the offer again.

Before he’s even finished with his sandwich, my captor rises to his feet. A second later, there’s a knock at the door.

I hate that shifters have such keen senses. As a human, I’m always at a disadvantage.

He opens the door, and I raise my eyebrows. On the porch stands a timid-looking woman with long red hair clutching a paper sack.

“Hey, Adrian,” she says uncertainly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and peering around the enormous wolf.

When she spots me, her hazel eyes widen. Unlike the females in my father’s pack, she doesn’t sneer at me. Her dainty nostrils flare slightly, and a look of curiosity sparks in her eyes.

“Thanks, Remy,” the wolf mutters, taking the bag from her gingerly.

The female shifter averts her gaze and nods, a shy smile puckering her lips. “Anytime.”

The wolf — Adrian — closes the door and runs a hand through his short brown hair.

A resigned sigh escapes him, and he drops the bag at my feet. I can see a telltale pink box poking out of the top, and I have to hide my smirk.

“Is she . . .” I don’t know why I’m even asking, but I can’t stop the words from spilling out of my mouth. “Your mate?”

“No.” Adrian doesn’t seem offended by the question — merely surprised. “She’s mated to one of my wolves.”

My stomach does a funny little swoop, but something about his language grates on my nerves.Mywolves— like he owns them or something.

That’s when it hits me.

He does.

Adrian is not just any wolf shifter. He’s Adrian Evans — alpha of the Gold Creek pack. And I’m his prisoner.

The moment the realization washes over me, I hear the softshinkof a knife being drawn from its sheath, and my whole body goes rigid.

I’ve been kidnapped by the Gold Creek pack, and I just made their alpha ask one of his wolves to fetch me feminine hygiene products.

It would be funny if I wasn’t in such deep shit — if I wasn’t completely at his mercy.

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