Sylvia's Torment (Enforcers and Coterie Book 2) (15 page)

“Spells in the bedroom? Oh my, do tell!” Heather leaned forward, her chin resting on her propped up hands. “I think I need a mage in my bed.”

Julia had taken a swig and almost choked on her drink.

“I thought Dawn was bad! She asked me if Jackson learned any tricks from an incubus. And before you ask, no he didn’t. We also don’t use spells.” A speculative look entered her eyes. “Although, the idea has merit.”

“Naughty girl!” Sylvia laughed.

The mage seemed like a good match for Jackson, and after the year he’d had, he deserved happiness. Even better, Julia had already proven her loyalty to him, sticking by him after he’d kidnapped her to help prove his innocence. For that alone, Sylvia was ready to love the other woman.

The waitress swung by and dropped off their drinks. Sylvia smiled absently at her in thanks as she paid for her cooler. After the Fae walked away, the conversation picked up again.

“I wouldn’t mind giving Derek a try. Now that’s a mountain I wanna climb,” Simone dreamily added. “All those muscles and such fierceness. I bet he’d dominate in bed.”

A low, warning growl cut through the laughter, unmistakable to the werewolves. Sylvia realized with dismay the sound came from her. Damn it, one kiss and nights spent talking to her and she thought he belonged to her. She clamped one hand on her throat and the other over her mouth, her eyes wide with horror.

“I’m so sorry.” Her whisper drifted around her fingers.

She had no claim on Derek, and to warn off a woman, especially another dominant, was a huge no-no unless she meant it. She might as well have slapped a glove across Simone’s face and declared, “I challenge you to a duel!”

Wars had been started for less.

“Oh honey, I meant no harm.” Simone reached over the tiny table and stroked Sylvia’s forearm. “I was just kidding. We’re good, right?”

A pall hung over the group. Sylvia hung her head, upset she’d ruined the lighthearted mood. For years she had controlled her reactions to Derek and any mention of him with another woman. Why now? Nothing had changed between them. The kiss hadn’t pleased him. He’d walked away from her, disappointed and upset. The nightly talks were simply an Alpha helping his Beta recover.

“It’s my fault. I had no right to do that.”  Sylvia dropped her hands and gave Simone’s a tender squeeze. “My mind’s a little messed up. I’m feeling overly protective of things I shouldn’t. I kept thinking Derek would save me, that he’d get me out of there, that he wouldn’t let me rot in that hellhole.”

Nadia wrapped her arms around Sylvia, and she forced herself to accept the comforting touch. “None of us would let you stay there. We searched night and day. Don’t ever doubt our love for you.”

“And besides, who can blame you for lusting after Derek. He’s a hottie,” Heather teased. “As long as you leave Zmitro to me.”

With her exaggerated wink, the tension leeched from the group. Stress drained from her with their acceptance, although embarrassment still lingered. How many more mini-upsets would she endure? Would she become feral, a rogue to be hunted down?

No. No, that wouldn’t happen. She rejected that thought and the weakness it implied. She was strong, and so was her pack. While she might falter, she wouldn’t stay down for long.

Popping the top off her drink, she took a cautious sniff. No poisons and no drugs. The smell of their drugs had become intimately familiar to her.

A bittersweet smile curled her lips before she took a swig of her cooler. The tangy grapefruit flavour mingled with the sharpness of the vodka, and she almost groaned in pleasure. This, this she’d missed – drinks with a taste other than sour chemicals. They’d only allowed her water, and that certainly hadn’t masked their damn drugs.

“So ladies, I think it’s time to get a little rowdy.” Heather grinned fiercely, indicating she wanted to start a bar fight. Any other day and Sylvia would’ve been right there with her. Now however, she worried she’d either freeze or snap.

“Go ahead. I’ll watch from the sidelines.” She waved to Heather and Simone, the two most likely to be in the thick of trouble.

While vastly different in looks, they were very similar in temperaments. Energetic, fun-loving and needing a good brawl to let off steam. Nadia always bowed out, too kindhearted to attack unless someone threatened her pack. Emma, well, it depended on whether or not she and Isaac had fought that day. If so, Sylvia pitied whoever was on the receiving end. Many underestimated her due to her size and didn’t realize how vicious she could be.

As Emma bounced to her feet, nearly vibrating with energy, Sylvia concluded she’d had one hell of a fight today with Isaac. The anticipation of violence lit up her face, the purity and sweetness belied by the ferocious grin.

“I’ll sit this out, too.” Julia said. “I told Jackson I wouldn’t have too much fun without him. Poor guy’s currently sitting at home, bored since he got the night off. As you know, the Coterie won’t let him do much. I’m happy they let him help you out, Sylvia. He was going stir crazy.”

Sylvia winced, knowing how difficult the enforced inactivity was on him. Jackson didn’t handle the sidelines with grace and ease, hence why he’d continued investigating while a fugitive.

Simone stood and stretched. Her camisole rode up, exposing her flat stomach and a smattering of golden freckles spread across her alabaster skin. An unfortunate incubus demon a few tables over ogled her before making his way to their table, a glazed look in his eye. As he mindlessly reached out to touch Simone and potentially charm her, Heather pushed her way between the two.

“You think you can touch my girl without my permission?” She jabbed her forefinger into his chest, forcing him back a step. He blinked in confusion at her. “She’s my property, and I demand reparations.”

Her voice rang over the music, and heads swung their way. Sylvia could see the mutterings and eagerness for blood take hold of the crowd. The music cut off abruptly, and a deep voice rumbled through the bar.

“You know the rules. No hitting a human. No destructive spells. Do not attack the bystanders. And no deaths. Anyone who violates these rules will visit the Queen.”

A shudder went through the crowd. No one knew if it was the Light or Dark Fae Queen, and quite frankly, it didn’t matter. Everyone feared them equally. Sylvia did her damnedest to avoid pissing them off. On occasion she saw them in an official capacity but stayed across the room from them, safely hidden behind Derek.

Only the other Coterie leaders showed no fear of them. And, strangely enough, Markus.

“You heard him. It’s time to fight.” Heather flashed her long canines before she slammed her fist into the incubus’ jaw.

His head snapped back, although it didn’t stop him from unleashing a punishing kick to Heather’s knee. Emma grappled with a nearby vampire while Simone took on a Fae. None of them would attack any of the other werewolves in the bar, as they were all part of Derek’s pack.

The handful of humans present scrambled for the chairs along the wall, the solitary “safe zone” in the bar. Everywhere else, a complete free-for-all. And free-for-all it was as werewolves, vampires, demons, Fae and mages attacked one another.

Sylvia checked on Julia, wondering if she’d ever experienced a bar fight before. There was just something so innocent and wholesome about her. An odd trait for a Mage Enforcer. Sure enough, her eyes were wide, although the rest of her expression was stoic. Her head swiveled, trying to follow the action, but it was an impossible endeavor. There were simply too many fights and participants to keep track of.

Nadia sat on the other side of Sylvia, effectively sandwiching her between the two women. Any other time and the implication would’ve angered her. A helpless, beaten-down werewolf unable to protect herself. But that’s what she was, wasn’t she?

A broken Enforcer, a liability to both herself and her pack.

Leaning her head back against the wall, her lids hooded, she kept tabs on Heather, Simone and Emma. While it didn’t appear they were helping each other, whenever one was about to have an extra, that extra suddenly found himself on the ground. There was a beauty to their movements, as graceful in battles as they were in dancing. A lump choked her as she remembered previous fights she’d taken part in, relishing every moment.

Now she was too frightened to bother. Would she freeze, letting someone take her down, or would she loose it? If she lost it, would she hurt her friends? A wild beast clawed at her insides, crazed and feral, demanding to be free, and she was afraid. Maybe she was beyond repair, a lame wolf that should be put down.

Crashes, swearing and bodies slamming into the floor made for a perfect soundtrack to her chaotic thoughts. The smell of sweat and blood teased her nose, pulling her back into that hellhole. How many times had she woken to that very smell? Her stomach churned, and bile rose in her throat.

They’d be coming for her again. Rests between sessions were short and erratic. Sometimes they wouldn’t even let her heal before drugging her for more experiments. They were nearby, they had to be. Where were they?

Her eyes darted around the room as her nails dug into the laminated table, ruining its veneer. Short, shallow breaths escaped from her lips, and dizziness assaulted her as she hyperventilated. Was her drink drugged? Maybe the air?

Oh shit, she had to get out of here.

Penned in, an easy target for them.

With one entrance/exit, she’d fall into any trap they’d laid for her.

A loud, earsplitting whistle rammed through the crowd, causing several to cover their ears. Sylvia flinched from the noise, positive it’d burst her eardrum. She glared accusingly at Nadia, the one who’d whistled.

“What the hell?!” she demanded but received no answer.

Nadia wasn’t even paying any attention to her. Instead, she was waving Heather, Simone and Emma over to their table.

Emma gave a particularly vicious head butt to her opponent, and he dropped to the ground, dazed. Heather slammed her foot into the kneecap of hers before skipping away with Emma. Simone simply gave hers a resounding kiss, stunning the other woman into immobility.

“What’s up?” Emma asked as they reached the table.

“Ooh,” Simone said, staring at Sylvia, seeing more than she wanted the Delta to see. “Sweetie, let’s get you home. There’s no sense in having too much fun your first night out.”

Gently, as if she was a fragile ornament, they guided her towards the door. Once, someone was stupid enough to approach them, thinking they made an easy target as they retreated.

Julia fielded that one, slamming him with a magical arrow. A fierce growl erupted from the Deltas, warning off any newcomers. The handful of submissive wolves in the club cleared a path for them.

While grateful her pack had her back, humiliation burned through her. So many witnesses to her weakness. An easy target now, a liability to be destroyed. As a Beta, she was in an enviable position, especially since it was to a Top Alpha.

While there were a few hundred Alphas in Canada, there were only five Top Alphas. It was a cutthroat competition, and any one of the werewolves in a lower pack could set their sights on her spot in the hierarchy. Even being wounded, mentally or physically, didn’t excuse her from the rights of a challenge. In fact, it gave the challenger more reason to take her out.

If word got out to the lower packs…

Perhaps they would misread the situation. Wouldn’t realize how destroyed and frail the abduction had left her.

Squeezing Nadia’s hand, she took solace in her friends’ presence. They were all happy with their place in the pack and wouldn’t attack while she was weak. No, instead they would protect her with their lives.

She swallowed hard to get rid of the sudden lump in her throat.

Chapter Twenty

Some horrible reality
show was on TV, and it barely succeeded in keeping Sylvia’s attention. She was drowning, and her packmates were the cause. They wanted to comfort her through touch, had piled on the couch with her or on the floor at her feet, keeping in constant contact.

She wanted to push them away. Didn’t they see how much she hated their touch? They were trapping her, making it hard to move, hard to breath.

Damn it, why did they have to touch her?

She had counted to a hundred. Twice. It didn’t help.

Last night had shown her she still had a lot of work ahead of her. Crowds and certain smells triggered the flashbacks, slamming into her mind and skewing reality. Thinking she needed more exposure to hopefully lessen her reactions, she’d decided to spend time watching TV.

When some of the guys entered the room, she moved over, making room on the couch. They claimed they wanted to veg out, but she knew better.

The Deltas gossiped like old women. She found it hard to be angry though. They did it out of love. While they’d settled around her, Zmitro had casually mentioned the rumour that had started this morning within the pack – Julia was pregnant.

Sure, Julia had no clue, and neither did Jackson, but it helped deflect the real reason why they left last night. Sylvia wished she could’ve seen Jackson’s face the first time someone asked him about the baby. Poor guy.

Rotating her shoulders, she tried to ease the tension from her back. A neck stretch did nothing to help with the tight, suffocating sensation. A crack assaulted her ears, but she knew it wasn’t real. Right?

Not long ago she would’ve loved being in the middle of this doggy pile. Her fondest memories included nights spent at Derek’s, watching TV with the pack. Tonight, however, her skin crawled and her bones broke, if only in her mind. The remembered agony of healing consumed her. For three months the sole time someone had touched her was to hurt her. Most of it she couldn’t recall thanks to the drugs, but the healing pain was tortuously fresh in her mind.

Her hand crept to her neck. Though no longer marred by scar tissue, her fingers still felt it, could trace the line with unerring accuracy.

Some progress had been made. She’d accepted hugs from both Derek and Heather yesterday, one quick and one…not. A shiver of awareness momentarily distracted her. While she still tensed when someone touched her, it didn’t occur as often. Derek’s touches, though, caused a different kind of stress, and she swiftly cut off that line of thinking. Her body’s reaction would be difficult to explain to the packmates draped on her.

Did they have to sit so damn close to her? This was too much.

She elbowed Zmitro and Rafi, both of whom leaned on her shoulders. She had blinked in shock when Rafi had walked into the entertainment room alone. One twin without the other was just unheard of.

Zmitro complained, rubbing his ribs. “Ouch, what was that for, my pretty flame? I was comfortable. I hope you don’t expect me to lean on Rafi.” He leered at the other man. “Although, he’s girly enough to make me feel manly while we cuddle.”

Rafi’s fist shot out behind Sylvia, slamming into Zmitro’s shoulder. “You wish, bro. No one can make you feel manly.”

Feigning a wounded look, he clutched his chest. “Cold, so cold. I don’t know how your brother stands being around you. He must wear parkas and toques all the time. Or is that why he’s always wearing a hoodie, to hide the frostbite?”

In no mood for their sparring, Sylvia pushed Tariq off her feet and hurriedly stood up, ignoring his sharp bright green gaze. Shrewd and astute, his favourite pastime was figuring out what made a person tick. Today she didn’t want to be psychoanalyzed. She had a shrink for that.

“I’m off to bed,” she declared without giving them a chance to protest. As she left the room, feeling as if hellhounds were nipping at her heels, she heard them muttering to each other. Concern and worry coloured their tone, although she couldn’t make out the words. More like she didn’t want to know what they said.

She felt bad for ditching them, but keeping up the pretense of being normal strained her, stretched her thin. Soon the holes would show, noticeable to her pack.

As soon as she entered her room, she flicked on the lights and threw the windows wide open. She breathed easier knowing she was safe in her room…well, not exactly her room, Derek’s room. She had wanted to argue about taking his room, but she wouldn’t win. An Alpha on the warpath trying to protect a packmate, nothing would allow him to back down.

She marveled anew at the spaciousness of the room. He had a huge king size bed covered with navy blue cotton sheets. Both the bed and the sheets had been custom made due to his size. She closed her eyes and tried not to picture him tangled up in the sheets and failed miserably. Each night he laid next to her on this bed, talking to her until she fell asleep. For comfort, he usually only wore jeans, his chest bare.

Shit, don’t think of him that way. He’s my Alpha and nothing more.

An Alpha she’d seen naked, over the years, along with the rest of her packmates. Out of respect and in keeping with their unwritten rules, she had averted her eyes – mostly – and tried not to stare blatantly. The few times she’d peeked, the image had seared her mind.

A tiny moan vibrated against her pressed lips as she pictured his long, muscular legs, tight washboard abs, thick shoulders and heavily corded arms. A light dusting of hair trailed from his navel downwards, begging to be explored. His flat nipples urged her to lick and suck them, see if she could tease them into erect peaks.

Damn it, how could she keep her thoughts platonic? That kiss had scorched her, shattered her way of thinking. She’d been content to have a crush on Derek, to keep him on a pedestal and know nothing would happen between them. That kiss, though, changed everything.

And his nightly ritual? It felt like he was romancing her, in his own way. Derek didn’t follow normal conventions. No, he wouldn’t give her flowers and chocolate. Too boring and ordinary. But keeping watch over her, helping her heal, that sounded more like her Alpha.

And at any other time, she would’ve accepted, excited to finally live her fantasies.

Now though, she couldn’t handle it. She
wanted
him to touch her, stroke her, caress her, but the fears lived so close to the surface. One wrong move on his part and she’d spiral back into that prison cell. What if the suffocating sensation overwhelmed her while they were in bed? What if she started screaming and couldn’t stop? So many what-ifs floating in her mind.

These thoughts were useless, designed to drive her nuts. Derek hadn’t indicated through word or deed that he wanted more from her. He’d apologized – apologized! – for kissing her, said it wouldn’t happen again. Not once had he mentioned it. So it meant nothing. His visits at night meant nothing. Right?

She sucked in a deep breath and pushed away these confusing, conflicting thoughts. To distract her mind, she moved from the door to browse through his personal items. If he hadn’t wanted her to snoop, then he shouldn’t have put her in his room without her permission. Sylvia hadn’t spent much time in here other than sleeping at night. Now she’d make up for the lack of poking around.

She skirted around the couch, which faced a TV hanging above his dresser. The dresser itself was a huge monstrosity taking up half of the wall across from the door. It was dark walnut, real wood instead of fake veneer, and on top of the dresser were several photos and a few bottles of cologne. The cologne, specifically made for werewolves, had a very light fragrance only a wolf could smell.

Unstopping it, she inhaled one half of Derek’s unique scent, the other half being the personal aroma of his skin. She put the stopper back in and gently returned the bottle to its spot on the dresser.

The pictures caught her eye next. There had to be well over fifteen of them, all spanning the last few decades. She picked up one of them that just had her in it. Sitting on a dock, her feet dangling in the water, she had been unaware of her picture being taken. She remembered that day.

Several members of the pack, including Derek, had gone to cottage country for the weekend. A first time for her – although she had joined them every time since – and the pack’s need for touch had overwhelmed her. Much like she was now. In order to escape, she’d wandered down to the pier on her own and sat for a while to enjoy the quiet. Not long after, Derek had joined her, and they’d stared at the lake for hours in peaceful companionship.

A flash of light caught her attention, distracting her from her lonely thoughts. Schooling her expression, she gave a false, bright smile to the newcomer. Her toes skimmed the water, the coolness soothing.

To her shock, it wasn’t a pack member seeking her out but the Alpha himself. Dark blue swim trunks showed off his muscular legs, and his bare chest begged to be touched. As he stalked closer, her senses went into hyper-drive, aware of each step he took. The faint scent of musk teased her, desire unfurling in her belly. The sound of the water lapping at the shore and slapping against the dock masked any noise he made.

A dark, powerful predator.

And she was his prey.

A shiver danced along her spine, not of fear but excitement. How would it feel to be stalked by him, knowing in the end he’d win? The urge to spring up and run, push him to his limits, beat at her. She wanted to be chased and then caught.

She wanted to be his prize.

He’d shown no interest in her, though. If she attempted anything and he refused, she might be transferred to another pack out of pity. Unrequited lust could be messy and embarrassing.

Locking down her thoughts and emotions, drawing them in tight was the only way to stay with him as long as possible.

No smile curved his lips. Derek wasn’t the friendly sort. Instead, he lowered his giant body next to her and rumbled, “The pack can be overwhelming at times. They mean well, though.”

Her surprise must have shown, as he chuckled lightly.

“Most new members feel that way. Don’t worry. They understand why you needed time away. Would you like me to leave?”

“No, please stay.”

Derek spread his fingers on the edge of the dock, his dark skin gleaming in the sun. She wanted to place her hand over his, thread her fingers with his and draw in his strength. Over the years, she’d heard so much about him. His ruthlessness, his ferocity, his ironclad control. She envied him that. Inside she was a mass of nerves, afraid the pack would see her weaknesses and demand her removal.

“The pack likes you. I like you. After you’ve learned complete control of your wolf, I want you to stay in the pack. If you agree, I’ll submit a transfer request to your old pack.”

Stunned, she whipped her head around to stare at Derek. He didn’t accept new members unless they were born into his pack. Smaller packs under his control in Ontario took transfers, but not his personal one in Toronto.

Not a flicker of emotion showed on his face, no reason as to why he’d offer her this opportunity. His golden brown eyes held hers, and she wished she could read his thoughts. Sure, as an Alpha, he could send them to the pack, but not to her, not unless she accepted his offer.

Why was she hesitating? Why couldn’t she form the simple word “yes”?

“Accept. I want you here. And I want to recommend you for the Enforcers.”

All air left her lungs. The Enforcers? He thought she could become an Enforcer?

“What?” Sylvia whispered.

“You’re stronger than you realize.” He lifted his hand to brush a strand of hair from her cheek and gave her a rare smile. “I know you can do it.”

Since that day, she had lived up to his expectations, pushed herself to be the person he saw in her. His strength became her strength.

Tearing her mind away from the bittersweet memories, she glanced to the next picture and then the next. In many of them, she’d been part of a group, laughing and playing. With shock, Sylvia realized all the pictures had one thing in common: her. There wasn’t a single photo on his dresser that didn’t include her.

Creepy or flattering?

Before she could make up her mind, the door clicked shut. She hadn’t even realized it’d opened. Slowly she turned around, knowing whom she’d find.

“Derek,” she whispered his name. He looked larger than life, dwarfing the door and blocking her in. Was her shallow breathing due to being trapped or due to her overwhelming awareness of him?

“I just…I needed some space.” Her eyes darted around, trying to find a way to escape.

One of the guys must have tattled, and true to form, Derek had come to check on her.

She inched her way towards the ensuite bathroom. Maybe if she stayed in there long enough, he’d give up and leave.

Did she want him to leave?

No, she didn’t. She yearned for the same thing she always had. To be his lover. His lifemate. But she knew that wasn’t possible. The bond would’ve occurred by now if they were lifemates. She hadn’t rejected it, hadn’t felt it, which meant it didn’t exist.

He wasn’t hers. He would eventually belong to another woman.