Authors: R.L. Mathewson
movies to know that as soon as she gave them what they wanted they wouldn’t need her anymore and she was as good as dead.
So she kept her mouth shut and didn’t answer a single question.
She was actually quite proud of herself. Eric, the obvious leader, had been very aggravated with her after two hours of failed
interrogation. If she continued her closed mouthed tactics no doubt they would be forced to let her go.
For the first couple of hours after her abduction she tried to find some logo or evidence of what company they belonged to, but
nobody said or did anything that would even hint at a company name. Now she was thinking more along the lines of a cult
obsessed with getting its hands on her program. Obviously they’d done this before. One thing was clear; whoever was calling
the shots was desperate for her program.
Anyone who was willing to risk everything or at the very least a stint in prison for kidnapping her was not someone who
should get their hands on this particular program. She didn’t even want to imagine their plans for her program or how much
damage they could do with it. All she knew was that she needed to get away sooner rather than later and she needed to destroy
Tattletale, her program, before they got their hands on it.
A loud girlish screech was followed by the double doors slamming open as two men catapulted into the room.
She automatically tried to take a step back, but the two men by her sides wouldn’t let her move an inch.
What happened next absolutely stunned her. One of the men, the larger of the two and half naked, flipped over the man who
only twenty minutes ago had been ogling her breasts and proceeded to give the smaller man a wedgie any high school bully
would be proud of.
Clearly he was psychotic.
Her brows arched up as she considered the new man joining their group. He was tall like the other men and had a good sized
build. Actually, he might be just a tad bit more muscular. But unlike the other men who kept their faces clean shaven, hair
styled, and clothes clean, this newcomer had about a week’s worth of whiskers, a large angry pink scar on his neck, his short
dark hair looked like he’d run his fingers through it about a hundred times, and from this angle it looked like his navy blue
boxer briefs were wet.
Oddly enough she couldn’t stop looking at him. There was something about him, something that had her palms sweating, her
heart beating faster, and her mouth going dry. This wasn’t right. She’d never reacted to a man like this before. Oh god, they
really had drugged her food or drink last night. That was the only explanation she had for suddenly finding herself attracted to a
Definitely drugs, she decided. Really, it was the only thing that made sense. There was no way she should be attracted to a man
that if described on paper would completely repulse her. Hell, none of her ex-boyfriends ever made her feel this way and they
were all normal sane men.
Although, it was sort of a comfort to know that her body was capable of feeling this way over a man. She’d always been
worried that there was something wrong with her sexually. All her old boyfriends, both of them, bitched and complained that
she wasn’t as hot for them as they were for her. It wasn’t their fault or the fault of all the guys she’d gone out with that they
never really appealed to her.
For some strange reason she just never found herself attracted to a man. Even when she was a young girl she never did the boy
crazy crush thing. While other girls were mooning over some boy band she’d been busy learning about computers and
programming. As she grew older she became a little nervous when she still hadn’t lusted after some guy and acted like a love
sick teenager. She knew she wasn’t gay and that she was in fact attracted to men, but it was never more than in an observatory
kind of way.
Over the years she dated guys she liked, guys who were nice and interesting, but never because she wanted them. Her last hope
had been sex. She’d hoped it was the key. She thought once she had it she would want it again and again and finally feel
something more for men, but it hadn’t worked out that way. Instead she ended up getting dumped after numerous complaints
about her performance or lack of enthusiasm in bed. It wasn’t her fault she’d been bored, uncomfortable, felt awkward and
spent the entire time wondering if there was anything good on television.
Her eyes, as if they had a mind of their own, ran over the man as he continued to assault the smaller man.
She just barely stopped herself from licking her lips.
What in the hell was wrong with her? Why was she imagining tearing his boxers off and throwing him to the ground? More
importantly why couldn’t she have felt like this for Trevor? He was a sweet guy and a classic hotty. As she checked out the
psycho’s biceps she wondered what drugs they had her on and where she could pick them up for her next date.
“Chris?” Eric, the cult leader, said. “Chris, I said I need to talk to you.”
Isabella forced herself to look at Eric. It wouldn’t do to get caught mooning over one of her captors. Also, she needed to think
and looking at that man was not helping. Since it was obvious that whatever drugs she’d been given were still in her system
and still affecting her she knew she had to get her ass in gear and get out of here before they gave her another dose and she did
something really stupid.
“Are you ready to talk?” Eric asked. After a minute she realized he was talking to her.
She shook her head, trying not to look nervous. Eric let out a long suffering sigh. “I didn’t think so.” He turned his attention to
the two men on the floor.
The man either didn’t hear him or was ignoring him.
Isabella wasn’t about to find out which. She needed to keep her head clear and she wouldn’t be able to do that if she looked at
him again. These were some scary drugs they gave her if she was fixated on a psycho cult member.
A deep timber voice said, “I think we need to talk, Eric.”
She just barely stopped herself from closing her eyes and savoring the warm vibrations that voice gave off.
She really needed to get out of here. This was too weird even for her.
“I’ll be right there,” Eric said, but he was looking at her.
“Do you need anything right now?”
“C-can I please use the bathroom,” she said, forcing her eyes not to shoot over to her bag, the bag that still held all of her
possessions, and was currently sitting on a chair by the broken doors.
He nodded as he gestured for the two men to take her.
Eric gestured towards the door the other man had just gone through and she had to fight back the urge to go after him, but she
quickly pushed it aside and moved forward. A few feet away from her bag she stopped and made it a point to look
“I-I need my bag,” she said quietly.
All three men frowned. Eric asked, “Why?”
Looking pointedly at the other men, she leaned in closer to Eric and whispered, “I need my bag,” she stressed on a hiss.
“I don’t understand. Why do you need your bag to use the bathroom?” Eric asked in perfect male confusion.
Oh, this was going to be all too easy.
She did her best to look embarrassed.
He shrugged, picking up the bag and opening it. As he peered inside he asked, “What do you need? I’ll get it.”
“Tampons, but I’m not sure what size yet. Can you see if I have Supers, and Super Plus, of course it is kind of early in my cycle
so I might just be able to get by with a Regular if you can find it? They should be in the bottom of the bag in the zippered
compartment,” she said, hoping she sounded as well as looked innocent considering she was lying her butt off. Not only didn’t
she have any tampons or any of the necessities a woman with PMS needed in her bag, but she also didn’t have her period.
Never had actually.
Although she’d developed physically like all the other girls she’d never had to endure having her period, which didn’t help
with the feeling that there was something wrong with her.
A startled, well frightened really, pair of intense blue eyes down up at her. She had to bite back a chuckle.
The mere hint of PMS could usually scare even the toughest man and there was no question in her mind that this man was
Eric noticeably swallowed. “Ah, um, well….” He looked a little lost. He cleared his throat and looked at the other men. “Any
weapons in the bag?”
The two men shook their head as one. “Only thing in there that could cause a problem is a small Netbook, but there was nothing
on it but a few games and pictures and there’s no network card. Not that it would matter since the signal is secured,” one of her
captors said with a shrug.
This time Isabella had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. They saw what she wanted them to see. She wasn’t called “The
Illusionist” for nothing.
“I’m going to need my hands free for this.”
“Not a problem,” Eric said, quickly uncuffing her. Gee, it was almost as if she’d said something to frighten them, she thought
dryly. Seriously this was sad, but at least it never failed.
Eric handed her the bag and gestured towards the mutilated doorway. She hugged the bag tightly, feeling whole for the first
time since she’d been captured and allowed the two giants to escort her to a rather plush bathroom while Eric went off, rather
quickly, to talk to the hot, um, psycho.
“Don’t lock it,” one of the men said.
Smiling sweetly up at him, she of course said, “No problem.”
Once the door closed she was ecstatic to discover that the lock on the door was a heavy duty bolt lock. So, of course she
“Hey! I said don’t lock it!” the man snapped on the other side of the door.
“Ooops, sorry. Habit. I’ll be out in a few minutes,” she said, pointedly not mentioning unlocking the door.
As quickly as she could, she powered up her little computer and relieved herself. Once that was done she signed onto the real
administrator site and set to work.
Finding the wireless signal took less than a second and the program she designed three years ago, and kept private, unlocked
the signal before she was done washing her hands. By the time she was done drying her hands her computer jammed their
signal and she was online.
She ignored the pounding and shouts at the door and focused on her computer. Five minutes, that was all she needed and she
was golden. She quickly tore through the connection and discovered that she was in New Hampshire, interesting, but not really
useful since there were probably hundreds of towns in New Hampshire. She needed a lot more information if she was going to
alert the authorities so she hacked into their network and searched for any records that might tell her where in the hell she was.
While her search was running she grabbed a king sized Milky Way bar from her bag and started nibbling away.
“Come on, baby, work for mommy,” she mumbled around a mouthful of caramel, nougat and chocolate.
“What the fuck?” Joshua grumbled as Chris abruptly released him when they reached the foyer.
“Keep an eye out and let me know if anything happens,”
Chris said, barely giving his brother a glance as he headed up the stairs.
Joshua snorted. “I’m not your bitch!”
Chris went to his room and quickly changed into a pair of dry underwear and jeans. One look in the mirror had him cursing.
Two minutes later his hair was combed, his face shaved and he was pounding on his father’s door.
“Someone better be dying!” his father warned as he ripped open the door.
His father crossed his arms over his bare chest, glaring.
He just glared. Chris casually took a step back, realizing he’d just interrupted the four hour block with Madison and he had
about sixty seconds to speak or run like hell. He might be stronger and faster than a human, but he was no match for a Pyte. Not
that his father would ever hurt him or one of his siblings, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t find himself tied up and hanging
upside down in the foyer, again, if he didn’t talk fast.
Ephraim raised an expectant brow.
“I think my mate’s downstairs,” Chris blurted out, feeling like an ass.
Just like that all the hostility in Ephraim drained. He reached out and put a hand on Chris’ shoulder. “Are you sure?”
“If my response to her was any indication, then I’m pretty sure,” Chris said dryly.
Chris heard an excited squeal come from behind his father and wasn’t too surprised when a very excited Madison, wrapped in
only a sheet, shoved his father aside and pulled him into a hug.
“Your mate?” she asked excitedly. “This is so great!
What’s she look like? What’s she like? Do you like her?
Can I meet her? Are you happy? Which area does she guard? Are you moving? You’re not moving are you?”
Before Chris could figure out which question to answer first Madison stepped back and yanked the waist of his jeans down.
“Hey!” He shoved Madison’s hands away.
She frowned, looking disappointed. “It’s still light brown,” she said, referring to his Sentinel mark, a freckle color crescent