Page 18 of Deadly Ties

Down those stairs – wherever the hell they lead - is Kelly. Prior’s prince and their real mate.

I have two choices. Use the kitchen exit to find Arben and bring him back here to help search, or descend into a dark basement and look for Kelly on my own.

It’s not really a choice, especially since I know Arben will lose his mind in I’m not in his line of sight in a minute. But as I go to use the bond to reassure him, I feel a blockage like a mental wall, thick and impenetrable. I frown, trying to reach past it for Arben, but there’s no hint of him anywhere. Just my own wolf, crouched down low and watching me from the shadows of my mind.

Shit!Arben!

I instantly lunge back towards the door, imagining him dead at Crouch’s feet.I need to get out there! I need fangs and claws!But before I can rip the door open, my wolf brings me up short. Instead of pushing through my skin in pursuit of my mate, she whirls me round, until I’m facing back towards the stairs. I’m still trying to make sense of that blockage in my brain, but she presses her paw against my spine, and I realize I don’t have a choice at all.

Down.

It’s almost painful, fighting both her instincts and the need to go check on Arben. But I remind myself that my mate is more than capable of looking after himself. All those extra guards are worrying, but there isn’t an alpha on this estate who could out-command Arben. And Rory and Cam aren’t exactly lightweights, either.

Something my wolf must have already decided, because she gives me another push towards the stairs. It’s pitch black down below, the air both stuffy and sour. Old food. Body odor. And all of it covered in a liberal layer of piss and puke.

My nose wrinkles, but when I reach for the wall, I feel a railing under my damp hand. Gripping it tight, I take a few careful steps in my high heels. But before I get very far, I hear a faint grunt and something that sounds like a slap.

Oh, shit.

There’s definitely more than one person down there. And from the low moan that drifts up the stairs, whatever I’m about to walk into is going to be ugly.

Maybe it’s a good thing I can’t see for crap.

Barely has the thought formed before my wolf takes over, and the room comes into grainy focus. Using her sight, I can see the steps ahead of me – at least twenty more - and then a huge basement divided up into small rooms. Along with the wolf vision, my ears prick up and I can hear a pained cry from the other end of the room.

I hurry down the rest of the stairs, grimacing as I pass the first room. I look in the door and see a basic cot, and a hole in the ground. No water, or windows, but a reinforced door that could keep out a feral shifter. Everything is drenched in the sweet-sour scent of terrified omegas, and the truth hits me like a slap. All these fucking rooms arecells. Grouch has been keeping omegas locked in his basement.

The rage that prickles over my skin is so consuming, I feel rooted to the spot. But when a ragged moan is followed by what sounds like a punch, my wolf thrusts me forward. Silvery hair sprouts on my arms as my teeth lengthen into fangs. I reach the last door in the room just as my claws pop out, and then I’m staring at a wide back. There’s a torch propped on a table, a bottle of whiskey, and a great hulking, sweating shadow.

It moves, a rough hand fumbling at its belt as it pushes something down on the edge of the table. The torch jumps, sending a wild beam through the room and I see a man in a mask. No, it’s more of a muzzle, like you’d put on a rabid dog. I can’t see his face under the old leather, but I know it’s an omega. Wearing nothing but a sweat-stained tee and tattered shorts hanging off his hips. The shadow – a fucking guard - is clutching a fistful of long coppery hair as he kicks the omega’s legs apart. But his prey isn’t going down without a fight. He’s kicking and bucking, blood and saliva dripping through the muzzle.

Rage is too gentle a word for how I feel, especially when I see the guard’s dick clutched in his hand. He’s gripping it like a club he wants to beat the omega with, and I’m swinging at him before he even catches my scent. He screams, the sound of a dying dog, and hurls himself sideways. But he can’t go far, because all ten of my claws are buried in his back.

Elvana

As blood spurts across the front of my dress, my first thought is a practical one: dead bodies are damn heavy. Although, the rapist guard isn’t technically dead, just dropping to his knees with an agonized moan. He’s in danger of pulling me down with him, so I quickly jerk my claws out of his back. Although, that just causes more blood to pump from the deep wounds, and I think of Arben threatening to shower the pumpkin centerpieces with arterial spray.

It sounded kind of funny until I’m the one doing the spraying…

But then I stop thinking altogether, because the omega stretched over the table is pushing himself up and turning around. Even with the muzzle covering the lower part of his face, I recognize him.

Kellman Prior.

The stepmonsters’ mate.

He just stares at me, his chest heaving. But my gaze dips to the torn neck of his dirty tee and the silvery mark on his chest, right over his heart. My own pulse kicks up as I realize it must be Link’s bite, as deep and claiming as the one on my neck. For some reason, the thought scrapes across my soul, so I look away and focus on retracting my claws. It leaves my fingers a mess, and I try to swallow down the bile in my throat as I wipe them on my dress. Sequins are not exactly absorbent though, and I just end up smearing the blood all over me.

Gross.

Although, I’m not sorry about the dead guy at my feet, especially when Kelly Prior tears the muzzle off his face and tosses it across the room. He’s beautiful, just like his poster, which makes his injuries that much more hideous. Old bruises, new bruises, a wound on his scalp that looks raw and infected, and a steady stream of blood dripping for his busted bottom lip. Another surge of rage dances between us, and I realize it’s coming from him. I expect him to scream, but he chokes it back and drives a vicious kick into the side of the guard’s head.

Is he dead now?The asshole’s not moving, but I’m not exactly keen to get on my knees to check.

“Angel.” I nearly jump out of my skin at the sound of Kelly’s voice. I can feel my eyes as wide as moons, but that could be because his accent is hot fudge over ice cream. “You look like an avenging angel in that dress.”

Oh. For a moment, I thought he somehow recognized me, but that’s stupid. It’s not like he had a poster ofmeon his bedroom wall.

“The claws are badass,” he goes on, then tilts his head to the side, a cheeky smile peeking out. “Have to admit, I never thought my rescuer would be a sexy omega assassin in a ballgown.”

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