Betrayed: Days of the Rogue

By

Nicky Charles

SMASHWORDS EDITION

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

Nicky Charles on Smashwords

Betrayed: Days of the Rogue

Copyright © 2013 by Nicky Charles

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This book is a work of fiction and any
resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or
locales is purely coincidental. The characters are products of the
author’s imagination and used fictitiously. The mention of
characters that originally appeared in Jan Gordon’s Life In The
Shadows are used with permission and are copyrighted to her.

This book contains mature content and is
intended for mature readers.

Please note that I use
Canadian spelling throughout. You will see doubled letters (e.g.
focussed), ou’s (e.g. colour) and ‘re’ (centre) as well as a few
other differences from American spelling.

*****

Many thanks to all my readers for their
support and patience. A special shout out to Janet for the amazing
banners and trailers she’s created – she is such a talented ‘fan
girl,’ and I am truly honoured that she spent so much time and
effort promoting my books. And hugs to Jan Gordon for seeing me
through yet another novel. She says she feels rather like a
‘midwife’ and I think we’d both agree this was an especially long
and difficult delivery!

Betrayed: Days of the Rogue

Prologue

“Beth! Beth!” Damien screamed his
mate’s name, as he pulled away from the hands that sought to
restrain him and ran towards the inferno that used to be his home.
The heat from the fire hit him like a tangible wall, searing his
lungs, his skin, his eyes. A sane man would have stopped, but he
wasn’t sane. His mate was in there. He could feel her pain; she was
trapped under something, the fire was scorching her flesh... The
intensity of it had him staggering, his body instinctively
recoiling.

She was fighting, trying to block
their mental link, trying to keep him from knowing her agony, but
he wouldn’t allow it. They’d vowed to share everything; the good
and the bad. He pushed back with his mind, seeking her out while he
struggled to get closer. Throwing his arm over his mouth, he used
his sleeve to filter the air as he forged ahead.

Behind him voices were shouting,
calling his name, but he ignored them. Beth. He had to find her;
had to save her. This was his fault...

Bits of burning ash, blown about by
the hot air current, fell around him, stinging his skin, burning
holes in his clothes. The acrid smell of smoke filled his mouth and
nose. He fought to breathe, coughing as his lungs protested against
the unpalatable air. Squinting, his eyes watering from the smoke,
he searched frantically for an access; a window, a door, but they
were totally engulfed, flames shooting out like evil entities
dancing with joy at the havoc they wreaked.

There was no way in, but he didn’t
care. Taking as deep a breath as possible, he prepared to rush
through the wall of flame. Sirens sounded behind him. Help was on
its way, but there was no time to waste. Beth needed him now. Beth
and their unborn child.

Beth, I’m coming for you. Hang
on my love...
He sent the words out to her and got a faint
reply.

I love you Damien. I’ll always
love you. Never forget…love...
The words faded and then...then
there was nothing.

Beth?
His mind searched for
her frantically. Where was she? Had she passed out?

The crackling of the fire was
suddenly louder, echoing in his ears as he strained to hear her
voice. A strange chill settled over him, a hollow, lonely
feeling.

Beth!
He mentally commanded
her to answer, but there was no response.

He staggered, his knees nearly
buckling. Pain ripped through his chest, a searing ache made his
heart lurch.

No.

It couldn’t be. Not his Beth. Not
her. A spirit such as hers couldn’t die. She was gentle and sweet
and kind. Tears pricked his eyes but he forced them back and shook
his head.

No.

It was a trick caused by the fire,
the smoke... His senses must be skewed. He looked about
frantically, searching for something, an explanation, anything...
She couldn’t be gone. Not his beautiful Beth. Not his mate, not his
baby...

“Beth!” Her name ripped from his
throat and he threw himself forward into the wall of flame.

A thin sliver of light spilled
through the small gap in the curtains, piercing the darkness and
announcing the rising of the full moon. It crept across the floor,
touching a simple bouquet of flowers and an arrangement of get well
cards before illuminating a narrow hospital bed. In it was the lone
occupant of the room, draped in sheets and deathly still. The
silvery light emphasized the gaunt structure of his face, the
paleness of his skin, and the shadows under his eyes. Anyone
passing by might have mistaken him for dead, and indeed that fate
had been considered a possibility in the first few critical
days.

Outside, the night was filled with
excitement. Lycans hurried on their way, eager to attend celestial
celebrations. Some would be small and intimate, while others were
planned as more public events for young werewolves experiencing
their first shift. The air seemed to tingle with a certain promise,
an expectation of great things to come.

Inside, however, a different story
was playing out. There was no joy, no anticipation. No quiver of
exhilaration hummed in the air as the moon revealed its full glory.
Instead, a dull monotony pervaded the cool, stark place, as if all
personality had been stripped away leaving only a mind-numbing
blandness behind. Beige walls, beige curtains, beige floors. A hard
chair, a small bedside table, an IV stand holding bags of vital
fluids for the sickly patient.

Beep, beep, beep...

The rhythmic sound of monitors
filled the tiny room, giving evidence that the patient in the bed
was still alive, his heart beating, his lungs taking in air. That
in itself was a miracle, given the extent of his injuries. Now out
of a coma the question was his mental well-being. Did he have the
inner strength needed to recover from the loss of his blood bonded
mate, or would he be just a shell of a man staring at the world
through lifeless eyes? Even worse, would the beast inside take
over?

Time passed. The moon inched its
way through the night sky and the intruding beam of light crept
across the bedclothes until it shone on the man's face. His lashes
fluttered, a faint furrow momentarily marred his brow before the
features smoothed once again.

Beep, beep, beep...

The faintest of rustling sounds
added itself to the electronic rhythm. The patient twitched his
fingers, then his legs, perhaps responding to the moon’s silent
summons. More movement, a faint groan and then his eyes snapped
open. Confusion clouded his face as he stared at the ceiling before
turning his head to take in his surroundings. Understanding slowly
dawned and he eased himself up, the covers falling from his form.
Muttered curses escaped his clenched jaw as he manoeuvred himself
sideways and then lowered his limbs to the floor. One leg throbbed
persistently, piercing through any remaining mental fog. Pain made
his senses sharper. He looked about the room, noting the doorway,
the windows and finally the air grates in the ceiling.

Beep, beep, beep…

A calculating look glinted in his
eyes as he fingered the monitors taped to his chest. Rising to his
feet, he swayed and clutched the back of a nearby chair before
gritting his teeth and locking his knees. It seemed as if he were
searching deep inside, gathering every last ounce of strength and
determination he possessed. With one last deep breath, he
ruthlessly pulled out the IV and ripped the wires from his
body.

Silence filled the room for a split
second and that was all it took for the man to execute his plan. By
the time the warning bells on the monitors had drawn the attention
of the staff, he was gone.

Within minutes, alarms sounded
outside as well, echoing off the cement block buildings and
stretching out into the surrounding wilderness. The sound of
shouting voices and pounding feet were soon added to the mix as
search lights began to sweep across the darkness. A dangerous Lycan
was on the loose and no effort was being spared to keep him from
escaping.

Deep in the shadows, Damien leaned
against the brick wall, half naked and trembling. His chest heaved
as beads of sweat trickled down his muscular form and shivers
wracked his limbs. The thin hospital trousers he wore dipped
dangerously low on his lean hips as he wiped his damp palms. He
pushed his hair from his face with a shaking hand and then twisted
to peer out of his hiding spot. If anyone had been nearby they
would have seen the desperate, almost feral look in his eyes and
the gauntness of his face. But no one was around, at least not in
this corner of the compound where large garbage bins provided small
nooks in which to hide.

That had been his plan. Go where no
one expected. Years of training and an innate survival instinct
were coming together, guiding his thoughts and moves, making him a
formidable foe. If he was cornered, he’d fight to the death but
that wasn’t his goal, at least not right now.

Escape. He needed to escape. That’s
all he knew, all he cared about. This place he’d found himself in
was evil. Chemical smells bit at his nostrils and stole his breath.
Strange restraints had been attached to his body. And pain...
Everywhere there was pain. His body, his mind, his heart.

Running was the only option. While
it galled him to admit it, this was not the time to make a stand
and fight. His body was too weak, instinctively he knew it, but
once he healed he’d be back to deal with... He frowned, unsure who
the enemy was. Curling his hands into fists, he shook his head,
angry with himself and his inability to think clearly.

A strange buzzing filled his ears,
almost blocking out all else. He rubbed his aching temples while
wondering what was wrong. Had they drugged him? Or maybe it was the
adrenaline rushing through his system. Whatever the cause, his
sense of reality faded in and out going from grey and fuzzy to an
almost excruciatingly acute awareness.

Grimly, he gathered all his
reserves of strength in preparation for flight. He had to stay
focussed, to make sense of the searchlights and sirens. There’d
only be one chance and he needed to pick the right moment to make
his move.

Seconds ticked by as he waited and
watched, noting where the searchers were, calculating the pattern
and speed of the sweeping security lights. There was a minute
window of opportunity when the path he wanted to take would be
bathed in darkness. His muscles quivered with the need for action,
but he remained hidden. Just a few more seconds and…now! In a blur
of movement, he shifted forms and leapt from the shadows, speeding
over the dry grass that covered the compound.

He dodged around bushes and trees,
skirted a parking lot, and finally crawled under the chain link
fence that separated the huddle of buildings from the miles of
grass covered prairie which surrounded it. A road stretched ahead,
the odour of rubber and fuel rising from the still-warm pavement.
The animal side of him shied away from this sign of humanity, but
his human brain knew better. His pursuers would expect him to head
towards the wilderness rather than follow the highway into town.
And even though it was exposed, the heavy acrid scents might help
disguise his trail. Turning his back on the rolling hills, he took
off running down the long, straight expanse, his black form
disappearing into the darkness of the night.

A few miles into the journey, his
muscles began to protest. The days of illness and immobility had
taken their toll and his stamina was depleted. His right back leg
throbbed; he could feel the newly formed tissues that covered his
wound tearing open, blood trickling out and matting his fur, yet he
didn’t dare slow down. Mile after mile he raced along the deserted
road, the full moon lighting his way. For some unknown reason, he
detected no sound of pursuit but didn’t pause or wonder why. A
strange compulsion was driving him onward even though his body
screamed for mercy.