Page 3 of Mated Exile

"Not yet."

"But—"

"I want to see themagkosshow herself before we offer her up. Give her time."

I don't know what they want. Helpless fury lashes at me. My tail swishes against the ground, a snarl leaving my throat, its sound making the wolf beneath me thrash and twist as he tries to break free. All I want is to climb the walls of the arena and attack the vamps up there—but the instant I let this wolf go and turn my back on him, he'll kill me, that much I'm sure of.

His head twists as he fights my hold, and those red eyes meet mine. From inches away, they glow with an otherworldly light. Just the sight of them is enough to make goosebumps spread across my skin, my white fur fluffing up and standing on end.

I dig my fangs into his neck until I feel it give. Blood rushes into my mouth, and I pray I won't have to bite deeper, or jerk my head back to tear his flesh wide open.

If only he would shift back. I wish he understood what's at stake here. I'll have to kill him if he doesn't, and that's the last thing I want. Warmth pools in my chest and pulses down my legs as I wish for it,hard. He may not shift because of me—I'm not his alpha, so I don't have that sway over him—but surely he understands what's at stake.

Something in the airshifts, and I feel the stroke of a warm breeze across my skin.

The wolf sags beneath me, the fight going out of him.

Flesh gives beneath my fangs—this time, not because it's tearing open, but because it's changing. Shifting.

My paws are suddenly standing on nothing as the wolf beneath me shrinks down to human form.

Blinking in surprise, I step back from him—and shift back, instinctively wanting to be able to talk to him. This time the shift comes quickly, without any awareness of my bones or muscles changing. I find myself crouched down on the ground, hands splayed in front of me. I bring them up to my knees, staring at the man before me, lying on his side, his eyes wide and wild.

Unsurprisingly he's tall, muscular, and handsome—werewolf males seldom seem to come in theuglyvariety. It's a shame, because their handsomeness makes them that much more tempting. This particular male has sleek black hair that falls down his shoulders and back, reaching his elbows. His darkly tanned skin is covered in a criss-cross of scars, and he wears nothing but a torn and ragged pair of grey sweatpants, blood mottling them. There's no sign of a shirt or shoes anywhere on him, so he must not have shifted while he was fully dressed.

His startled amber eyes are staring at me in stark naked shock. I guess he expected that I'd kill him. Maybe that's therulearound here, and the vampires are about to punish me for breaking it. I don't care, though; I won't have a stranger's blood on my hands.

Because he's staring at me so openly, I find myself looking down, and yep—I'm still fully dressed. It would be inconvenient if shifting back and forth didn't include the original clothes, but the same magic that makes us gain dozens of pounds and back again also takes clothes with it. Good thing, because I don't have the budget for a disposable wardrobe.

"Hey," I call out softly to the man, crawling towards him, the gouges and scratches along my sides already healing. "Are you okay?"

He just stares up at me, so I study his neck closely, reaching out to brush long black hair over his shoulder. The way he tenses and jerks back from me is concerning—and so is the wild, wolf-like snarl that leaves his lips. I quickly withdraw my hand, glad at least to see that the puncture wounds I left on his neck are already healing, as they should. Shifting back usually heals up surface wounds, at least.

But he doesn't look grateful I saved him. Just startled, confused, and more than a little wary. And if theboosand hisses from the crowd above are any sign, I've disappointed them too.

A sound at my back alerts me to a new presence in the arena. Looking over my shoulder, I tense to see two vampires entering from a previously-hidden door in the curved wall. I jump to my feet, falling back into a fighting stance, ready to rumble.

"Whatever it is you want me to do to him, I'm not going—"

I've barely got the first word out before one of them is reaching to his hip and pulling open a small brown bag. He tosses something at me, and I cringe back—only to stare at him, confused, as powder settles on my skin and clothes.

I'm about to demand to know why he threwbaking sodaat me when suddenly my body goes numb.

Everything in me collapses down to the ground, like a marionette with its strings cut.

Just before my lights go out, I hear a rough voice murmur in wonder, "How did you do that?"

I don't get the chance to answer before I'm lost to the world.

Two

Delilah

Iwake up once again to find myself being dragged across the ground, the smell of old blood and rotted flesh hitting my nose. Holding my breath, I scowl down at my feet, which are still numb and useless.

A moment later the vamp holding me tosses me onto the ground in darkness—then turns, walks away, and swings some kind of iron door shut. I hear the distinct sound of a lock turning, and I'm barely able to do anything about it, because half my body is numb.

Though I do summon the will to raise my hand and shove my middle finger up towards the sky.

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