Were Slave (2010) (7 page)

Not tonight.

A clear image of Mace entered her mind and she hid a giddy
grin behind her gloved hand. Although Stephen had been a respectable lover, he
didn't compare to her generous Were. Their time in bed rarely consisted of
sleep. Not when Mace lay naked beside her underneath the sheets. She couldn't
resist running her hands over his rigid muscles, through his silky black hair,
over his powerful lips.

His lips. Oh God. The man knew how to kiss. And lick. And
suck.

She sighed and wished she were with him now instead of at
this ridiculous ball. The extravagant event cost her country far too much
money. Yet her council voted for it every year. A night of free food and liquor
for the country's elite. How could they resist?

"Penny for your thoughts," a familiar voice said too close
to her ear.

Nayla didn't bother looking up at Stephen as he rested a
hand on the armrest of her throne, allowing his finger to lightly brush her
bare forearm. Still as bold as ever.

She made sure no one could hear her words before saying,
"Wasting your time with the celibate Queen, are you? I'd think you'd spend your
energy on one of the many single women lurking about."

He leaned in closer. "I've heard a rumor that you're not all
that celibate as of late."

Her cheeks heated. "Have you?" She refused to dignify his
insinuation with an answer. Her private time with Mace was no one's business
but her own.

"I must admit I'm a bit jealous, even if he's only a
WereSlave."

"Mace is more than that," she blurted out before she had
time to filter her words. She couldn't help herself. She'd grown to realize
Mace deserved more respect than most of the humans she came into contact with.
The conversations they'd shared in the privacy of her room had been engrossing
and titillating. His wit and intelligence had surprised and delighted her, and
his passionate lovemaking never ceased to amaze her. She found it easy to
forget he was a werewolf, an animal with the ability to kill. As long as he
didn't turn, well, everything was perfect.

Mace was perfect.

The mere thought of him made her legs wobbly and her heart
pound. "I've found that the Weres aren't what they seemed," she said, realizing
Stephen was looking at her as if questioning her sanity.

"Really?" He raised his eyebrows higher up his forehead and
white lines formed around his pinched lips. "Is that so?"

She smiled up at him and patted his arm. "But why would you
be jealous, silly man? You're the most eligible bachelor in Paqualette. You
know as well as I do you have your pick of any woman in this room."

The tight line of his lips softened then quirked up to a
playful grin. "What good is any of it, Nayla, if I can't have you?"

She couldn't help but laugh at his bold flattery. He'd
always been an expert charmer, whether he believed his words or not.

"You laugh?" He brought his hand up to his chest. "My heart
is broken and you laugh."

"You'll live, I'm sure." She nodded toward a group of
attractive women. "Who's your pick tonight?"

"Trying to get rid of me so fast, are you? Want to get back
to your Were?"

"Simply saving you precious time."

"I have all the time in the world, sweet woman. Might the
Queen spare my feelings just this once and grant me a dance?"

"Oh, for God's sake." She laughed again. "You always were a
stubborn man."

"Be that as it may..." He held out his hand for her to take.

"Fine. One dance." It would make the time go by faster at
least. And she was sure she was doing dear Stephen a favor. Dancing with the
Queen was considered an honor among men. The dance floor would be cleared and
all female eyes would be on him.

Yes, he was one heck of a charmer.

* * * * *

Mace gritted his jaw as he watched Nayla dance with the
human. He stood behind the massive column at the rear of the ballroom, hidden
from the guests. He'd dressed in clothes meant for walking the castle, plain
pants and a linen shirt, not appropriate attire to wear to this sort of
festivity, he could tell.

The guards had expected him to be good and stay in Nayla's
chambers for the evening, but curiosity drew him here. The cheery music, the
ornate clothing, the dancing, the spread of food--he'd never seen anything like
it.

And he'd wanted to keep an eye on Nayla, apparently for good
reason.

The man who held her in his arms was like all the rest of
the pampered humans in the room, well-groomed and spoiled by wealth. Mace
couldn't help but wonder if Nayla found him attractive. She didn't look
uncomfortable as one of his hands held hers and the other pressed against her
mid-back.

No, she appeared at ease as she gazed up at him with those
seductive green eyes, while keeping a proper distance from her dance partner.
How she could pull off both regal and wanton at the same time was beyond him.

The dance floor was clear as the couple swayed to the
sweeping rhythm of the string ensemble. All eyes were on them as the man whispered
in her ear, causing her to giggle.

Mace swallowed the growing lump in his throat. He'd never
seen her laugh like that. Open and free. Without caution. Without fear.

Who the hell was this man who could make her seem so cheery
and carefree? The man's greedy hand slid slowly down to her lower back as he
drew Nayla closer. Too goddamn close. Mace's chest tightened when she didn't
object. Her face didn't show any discomfort at all. Obviously, her companion
was no stranger.

Mace glanced around at the people gathered about the
ballroom floor. None seemed to mind the intimacy of the dance. Although some
whispered and pointed. Mainly the women. But no one did anything to stop this
transgression. Didn't they care that this bastard was taking advantage of their
Queen?

He had to do something. Anything to get those bloody hands
off of her. He took a step forward but stopped when the music ended. The man
ushered her through the crowd and Mace lost sight of her for a moment as a new
dance began.

Laughter, voices and music filled the air. People scattered,
blocking his view. There. He spotted them as they stepped out through a pair of
balcony doors. It was of little solace to see one of Nayla's guards follow
behind them.

Unwanted jealousy burned in his chest as he wondered who
this man was to Nayla. Would she allow him to touch her? To kiss her?

Ah hell. It bothered Mace more than ever that he didn't have
her respect. Bothered him more than it should. As a Were, he was only
considered her bed companion. And this man, the man who had made her laugh with
a joy he'd never seen, was far more than that. Or at least he must have been at
one time.

Mace cursed under his breath. He needed to get out there
before anything happened. He took another step forward but someone grabbed his
arm and yanked him back.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" A large man with
short blond hair and a mustache stood before him. Mace remembered seeing him
walking through the dungeon, thinking he must be one of Nayla's councilmen.
Mace also remembered he hadn't liked the looks of him. Devious and malignant.
He'd protested Mace's appearance in the dungeon as well as the fair treatment
of the Were prisoners.

Mace easily jerked his arm free. He might have to play
WereSlave to Nayla for the time being but he refused to allow anyone else to
put his hands on him. "Who are you?"

"You may call me Councilman Fenton. I've been looking for
you everywhere. What are you doing out of the Queen's chambers, boy?"

Boy? Mace hadn't been a boy in over a hundred years. But he
didn't have time to argue with this ass. He turned and started toward the
balcony again.

"Wait." Fenton grabbed Mace's shoulder. "I have a plan to
help you and your pack."

"My pack?" The reminder stopped him from taking another step
and he turned to give Fenton his attention. "What sort of plan?"

"I've made it clear that I don't agree with keeping you and
your dogs alive and treated like they're guests at this castle. It's a crime
against humanity."

"You're losing me, Fenton," Mace said through his tight jaw.

"I want you all out of this country and I'll do anything to
make it happen. The Queen has lost focus since the moment you stuck your filthy
cock inside her. Nothing is getting done and the country is suffering for it."

Mace fisted his hand, ready to knock the man out. "You
should be careful how you speak of her, human. You see there are no chains on
me."

"Hear me out." Fenton held his hand up and lowered his
voice. "The Ball will last another two hours at least. I'll go to the dungeon,
dismiss the guards and loosen your pack's chains enough for them to break
free."

Mace tilted his head in interest. "What's the catch?"

"I need your word that you'll leave the country--every one of
you--and you'll never come back." Fenton's face paled and perspiration dampened
his pasty forehead. "And I ask that you take Nayla with you."

Mace would've thought it was a joke but Fenton couldn't look
any more serious. "You want me to abduct your Queen?"

"Yes." Fenton jutted his chinless jaw in a sad attempt to
appear superior. "I'll have her called to her chambers in one hour. Do whatever
it takes. I don't care if she's dead or alive, as long as her body goes with
you."

The idea of people like this surrounding Nayla sickened him.
"I'd never harm her. What kind of man are you?"

"The kind who's had his fill. My reasons are none of your
concern. When the clock strikes midnight, I'll visit Nayla's chambers. If she's
still there, I'll call the guards' attention to your pack's absence and you'll
be hunted down and decapitated on the spot." He paused and glanced around. "And
I'll get rid of her majesty with my own hands. Believe me, there are more than
a few others around here who wouldn't mind helping me do away with her."

Blood boiling with rage, Mace grabbed Fenton's neck and
threw him up against the wall, pinning him there. "If you lay a hand on her
I'll tear out your goddamn heart with my bare hands." The wolf in him begged to
be free at the thought. What he wouldn't do to sink his teeth into this man's
throat and rip out his airway. The bastard wouldn't be a threat to Nayla if he
were dead, would he?

Fenton scratched at Mace's hands, attempting to free himself
but there would be no escape for the fool. "Please," he choked out. "You need
me."

"Hearing your last breath is what I need," Mace said, but
forced himself to loosen his hold on the man's neck. For his pack's sake.
Whether he liked it or not, Fenton could be their only hope to be free again.
Mace had to take this opportunity, afraid there might not be another.

Fenton inhaled a breath and coughed, like the weak human he
was. "Good choice, Were."

Mace growled and dropped his hands. "I'll be watching out
Nayla's balcony. If I see that my pack is released, I'll take her with me, if
only to protect her from the likes of you."

Did Nayla have any idea of this mutiny? Probably not. She
was too trusting and he hated that he worried for her safety. He loathed that
he cared for her but it was pointless to deny the raw truth. Fenton or no, Mace
never would have left her. She belonged to him. He only hoped she wouldn't
fight her destiny as his mate.

Fenton nodded and straightened his collar. "Like I said,
whatever it takes."

Nayla rushed up the steps as fast as her feet could take
her, the music from the Ball becoming a distant sound. As soon as Fenton
informed her of Mace's dire injury, she'd shucked her impractical shoes and
started running.

How could he be injured? With his strength and immortality,
she thought he could withstand anything. But Fenton had seemed so grave when
he'd whispered in her ear that her WereSlave had tried to take his life. Mace
had slit his own throat in an attempt to decapitate himself.

No. It couldn't be. He'd never leave his pack. He was loyal
to them. But would he leave me? Her chest constricted and she carelessly
stumbled on the hem of her gown at the top of the stairway, scraping her hands
on the hard ground as she fell. Damn it. She didn't have time for her clumsy
ways. Mace needs me. Not bothering to dust herself off, she pushed to her feet
and continued to her chambers.

No guards were present, but Nayla didn't find it odd since
she'd given most of them the night off. The evening of the Harvest Ball was a
jolly time for all of Paqualette, whether one was invited to the Ball or not.
She assumed the remaining guards were downstairs, watching over the event.

In any case, she'd ordered Fenton to send three up along
with the castle's physician. She wouldn't allow Mace to die. He meant too much
to her. She only wished she'd seen this coming.

A lock of her hair fell from its tight bun and into her
eyes. She shoved it behind her ear and pushed through her door, silently
praying that Mace was okay.

The room was dark except for the light of the moon shining
through the opened terrace door. Nayla warily stepped inside and searched for
any sign of Mace, or, God forbid, his blood. She saw nothing unusual except for
that damn door. The boards had been pulled from it and thrown onto the floor.

What was going on here? And where was Mace? Had he needed to
change in order to heal? Or had he finally decided to attempt an escape?

She took a few steps forward but stopped when she heard
something much like the scrape of paws on the floor. Her breath halted as fear
paralyzed her. A large black werewolf with round, radiant blue eyes stepped
through the terrace door and into her chambers.

"Do not fear me." Mace's husky voice came from the beast's
mouth. "I won't hurt you, Nayla."

His enormous presence was ominous, as well as the shadow he
created, like a nightmare come true. One of these monsters had murdered her
parents, tearing out their throats and mercilessly clawing at their bodies.
She'd witnessed it all with her own eyes and the memory made her ill.