Page 5 of Captive Mate
Fuck.
“Well?” Ian prompted me. “Cat got your tongue?”
I stared at him, my heart pounding. Did he know? How the fuck would he know? I put up a good werewolf front. I’d gotten a lot of practice. And even if Nate had examined my magic or the spell, he wouldn’t be able to tell. Shifter magical signatures looked very, very alike to a non-shifter warlock like Nate.
But Ian didn’t know, obviously. He was just using an expression. I took a deep breath and put my game face on, as best I could given it was grimy and dripping with sweat and probably still streaked with dried vomit.
Best possible spin. I could do this.
I smirked at Ian. “Looks like you’ll need to not only keep me alive, but get me out of this basement and out of these chains. Because if Matthew’s sick, that means the spell I put on him is doing its job.”
Ian’s face went dangerously red, but Nate spoke up first, his brows furrowed. “Doing its job? I don’t believe you. This was an accident, wasn’t it?”
Oh, I was going to kill him the moment I had the chance. “You would think so,” I said snidely. “But not all of us are incomp—”
“Don’t you fucking dare finish that sentence,” Ian snarled, taking a menacing step toward me. “Tell me how to fix my brother, or the claws are coming out!”
“And you obviously did screw up,” Nate put in, “or you wouldn’t look like you’re coming down with the magical I-fucked-up-my-spell stomach flu, would you? Maybe it was meant to do this to Matthew, but not to you. You. Fucked. Up. So tell us what needs to happen to get that spell off.”
My anger rose past the point of restraint, boiling in my chest like magma. “The spell’s not coming off! No fucking way. I’m a dead man if I remove it. Let me out of this basement!” I yanked my arms, the chains suddenly too fucking much, too heavy — I couldn’t take it. They shook and rattled and banged against the floor. “Let me out! He has to be near me, or he’ll get sicker. He has to be near me, so let me out!”
“No, you’re going to take off this fucking spell —”
“He’s not going to,” Nate snapped. “It was worth a try, but if he ends it, he obviously thinks we’re going to kill him. If he doesn’t end it, he’ll die unless we do what he wants — but so will Matthew. Fuck this, Ian. Matthew got us into this crap, and he can deal with spending however long until we figure out how to break this spell ourselves stuck in a room with a smelly, bitchy, murderous shaman who can’t cast a love spell correctly.” He smirked at me, and I flipped him the finger. “Fuck them both. We can leave the manacles on so he can’t do any more super fun magic tricks. Matthew can handle him. Then we won’t need to deal with this bullshit anymore on top of everything else.”
No, I needed the manacles off, I needed themoff… But Ian was nodding, and even smiling a little, his eyes gleaming. “You know, that actually works for me. I love you,” he added, with a sappy look in Nate’s direction that nearly had me throwing up every last drop of bile in my empty stomach.
Once I got over my disgust, what Nate had said really sank in, and…that would work. It would only be a matter of time before I got Matthew to take the manacles off and let me go — because he was in love with me, and leaving us alone together was fucking stupid.
“By the way, you’ll both be under guard,” Ian said. “No using my dumbass brother’s fake feelings to escape. He’s just going to get to be the one to deal with feeding you and listening to you whine.”
I opened my mouth, and then snapped it shut again. My head was starting to ache, and my legs had gone mostly numb. I was going to get out of the basement, and out of my chains. I’d presumably get the opportunity for a shower and clean clothes — and once I was closer to Matthew, I wouldn’t be slowly dying, either, which would be a good first step.
No, I could bide my time.
I nodded, and pretended I wasn’t plotting to kill all of them at the first opportunity.
***
Taking a shower with manacles on, under Nate’s watchful eyes, and in a shower stall that hadn’t seen a bottle of bleach since Jimmy Carter was president — well, it wasn’t my first choice, but the second the hot water hit me I didn’t give a fuck. The whole pack could’ve been staring at me. Carter himself could have been staring at me. Naked. Fuck, it felt so good.
I moaned, bit my lip, and tipped my head back to let the water run down over my face and neck.
Nate made a choking sound, and I smiled. Yeah, I was hot. And Nate knew it, too, or he wouldn’t have told Ian to wait outside.
I turned around and ran my hands down over my body, staring right at him. I was probably too thin by most guys’ standards — definitely Nate’s, judging by Ian. But hot was hot. I reached up and started to wash out my long blond hair, like that shampoo commercial that verged on soft-core porn. Only with more tattoos, and alotmore cock.
Another moan was just for fun. Nate blushed, but he kept his attention on me.
“You’re not my type,” he said through gritted teeth.
“I know.” I winked at him. “You like them big and dumb, and I’m neither. But you can’t blame me for trying to distract you.”
Sometimes, I’d found, telling people straight-up what you were doing to piss them off was more annoying than just doing it, and it worked this time, too. Nate looked like he was about to blow a gasket.
“You’re not distracting me. I’m still watching you.”
“Yeah, and so you’re distracted either way. Win-win.” Not that distracting him did much for me — I wasn’t going to be escaping anytime soon. But keeping my captors off-balance was one of my favorite hobbies. Some guys took up knitting; I antagonized my guards. It was a lifestyle.
