Page 3 of Captive Hybrid

If I focus, my head already throbbing, shards of emotion shoot through, from him. Pain. Fear—for me. Anger. Protectiveness. I blink in the gloom. He knows I’m missing.

My assessment of the situation grows bleaker as the hours—or, what feels like hours—drag on. Head still throbbing from the aftermath of the explosion, being tossed back onto a rock, and my growing thirst and hunger only make things worse.

With nothing else to do, I sit on the bed, cross-legged on the ‘mattress’, and try to calm myself by reaching for the bond.

For someone I have known my entire life, my fated mate feels like a stranger. Everything has changed between us time and time again.

First we were friends, as children. He would smile at me, take pity on me whenever I’d felt like an outcast for being a hybrid. Then, as we grew into teenagers, I would look at him differently. The way his black hair flopped into his piercing, silver eyes that I felt always matched my icy hair perfectly. Young-me had thought it a sign from the Goddess that we were a perfect match. And, though I wasn’t wrong, I would hardly call it ‘perfect’ when he rejected me.

But my time with him this last week has changed everything again.

Mordecai—my smiling, sweet Cai nowhere to be seen—had forced me into his car, tumbling down the dirt road to Wolf Grove, where he had cast me out from five years ago.

In the five years since, he’s almost become a stranger, a ghost of the young man I once knew.

Since our, well, reunion, we have barely talked. In my heart, I know I want him. That familiar young man I loved, and the grown one my heart and soul burn for. But I don’t trust him.

Not after he rejected me.

I don’t know if I ever will.

As I sit in the chilling embrace of darkness, that life-altering night comes back to me, an unwelcome memory. At eighteen years old, sitting beside Mordecai in Wolf Grove, one brisk Winter evening, the fire warm in the clearing, everyone had gathered to watch our union. I’d spent all day with my sister witches, Deirdre fussing over my hair, to get me ready for the announcement. I’d let my eyes flutter closed, quelling the excitement roaring through my body, my heart. It’s special, knowing you’re mated to someone. That you can turn around, and they will be there, smiling at you.

I’d had fantasies of that night. Of him accepting me before everyone, and pressing his lips to mine, warm hands on my hips as he pulled me onto his lap. I had imagined him lifting me into his arms with a playful growl as our pack and the coven cheered at our backs, and he took me to his cabin. The images that followed had been blurry back then. At that time, I’d never been with a man. Never had sex. Neither had he (though I’m sure he was given plenty of instruction. I mean, I hope.).

Over the years since, those fantasies have grown. As I was with my first, a forgettable man named Ben who got the job done—but I was happy to watch him leave—I wondered what Mordecai would have been like in bed.

Traditionally, he would have marked me to claim me as his mate as we made love for the first time. He would bite me or scratch me with his wolf claws. Somewhere visible, but intimate. My neck, my thighs, my ass. Nothing bad, nothing to hurt, just so that I could walk around with pride with what would turn into a gleaming silver scar to mark me.

When I discovered romance books, my imagination roared to life.

Back then, that fateful night, itching to finally be accepted, to be wanted and loved, every piece of my heart had shattered when those silver eyes bore into mine and that one, awful, cruel world broke me. ‘No.’

Silent tears slip down my cheeks now, my sniffle the only sound in the quiet cell.

I can’t tell if it’s day or night, with no windows or clock. I get up and pace the cell in the near-darkness, using my hands to guide me. I reach out, above my head, dirt showering from my touch, likely onto the bed. Earth. Normally, I would have liked to be close to nature, but not like this. In soft grass, I could happily lie naked beneath the moonlight, drinking it in. In real, live, nature, I could be at ease. But this? This dry dirt speaks of cold, roughly dug things, like graves. At the thought, I shiver. My cell, wherever it is, might as well be a grave.

Stop it, I tell myself sternly, continuing my nearly blind search with my hands still outstretched. I find the bars which, I think, were the wall that I had eyed Drusilla through. If she had come down here, there must be a way to leave this place. They hadn’t buried me down here.

The final wall, to my right, are metal bars, too, though the darkness is thick here. From my guess, my cell is about three by three paces. I start to pace when my shin knocks into the corner of the metal bedframe, and I hiss as it bites through my worn jeans.

A sharp inhale sends shivers down my spine. It was not my intake of breath.

I whip my head. ‘Who’s there?’

A low growl pours into the cell. I stagger back, knowing the bed is as far away as I can get, climbing onto it hastily. This time, there is no light to illuminate the beast.

‘I am. Your guard.’ The voice is low, male. The distinctive sound of someone licking their lips washes over me. ‘You are bleeding.’ The words are like an offered promise.

I lean back on the bed, pressing into the earthen wall, heart racing. I touch a finger to my shin with a slight wince. ‘I walked into the corner of the bed.’

A mix between a slurp and a growl sounds before me. ‘I was told to guard you, not to drink you, but if you bleed everywhere, I might have to make an exception.’

A guard. I have a guard. How long has he been there, silently watching me in the shadows? I have no doubt that vampire hearing and vision are as good as a wolf’s. He doesn’t need a light.

Which means, neither did Drusilla. She wanted me to see her, to fear her. This one couldn’t be bothered, or else, he wants me in the shadows, without hope or light.

‘Please. I need some water.’ I press down on the wound, hoping to stop the bleeding. ‘Drusilla wants me alive. You have to give me food and water.’ I hate how desperate I sound. I wish I knew how long I’d been here. I haven’t slept since I woke, but I could have been out for days before that.

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