Pretty Poison (3 page)

* * *

The shifters brought more food when Noah’s stomach told him it must be time for lunch, and with the heaping platter of fried chicken, they brought his forearm crutches. If he was careful, he could cross the fifteen feet to the bathroom without destroying his knee. Again, he dutifully ate under the watchful gaze of the beta assigned to him. He asked for his meds, true fear edging his polite if fervent requests. When his anxiety for his family spiked and his nerve broke, he begged the tight-lipped stranger to tell him what he’d done wrong. Hadn’t Noah complied exactly with what the city shifters had demanded of him? The countless other questions he couldn’t and wouldn’t ask ate at him. Why had he been jailed instead of taken to the alpha’s bed? Was he on trial? Had the pack finally decided to punish him for dealing with humans? Or worse, had they judged him too injured to survive, much less fulfill his duties as the alpha’s mate?

Nothing.

No response.

His guard at dinner at least gave him some glimmer of what he faced. When he asked for his meds, the beta flinched. And sneered. “Poison.” That was all he said. One word:
poison
. Technically, the shifter was correct. Noah knew it. His family knew it. His medical team knew it. The only substance that would prevent a shift long-term was aconitum—wolfsbane—and since Noah couldn’t control his shifting, he’d been on the drug for years.

And he’d been without it too long.

Noah sensed the turmoil building inside his mind, the stirring of the wolf fighting to break free. Even after the beta’s condemning “poison,” Noah had pleaded with him, as pathetic as an addict begging for his next fix, even though Noah didn’t crave aconitum. He didn’t get a high from it. The drug made him sleepy and nauseated. He
hated
it, but he feared losing the few medical appliances in his body during an unwanted shift even more. Enough to grovel. Enough to promise anything.

He got stony silence and the tense line of the beta’s back as he marched out the door when Noah refused to touch the mounds of steaks prepared for his supper.

He should’ve known his rebellion would be reported.

Noah sat on the bed, fidgeting restlessly, skin itching with how bad the wolf inside called to him. It wouldn’t be long. Years had passed since he’d last shifted, those instincts too ruthlessly denied. Noah wouldn’t need the lure of the moon, which he damn well knew was only at first quarter. It would happen. Again and again, so fast and furious he wouldn’t be able to stop. His wolf would take over, whether he wanted that or not. His crippled wolf, with legs as damaged as Noah’s, unable to stand or walk, unable to fight. Unable to hunt.

They’d kill him then. That’s what they’d wanted when Noah was four, after the fall. Shifter healing couldn’t mend such devastation. Noah would never be normal, not by their standards. He wouldn’t be able to provide for himself or defend territory. Until he woke from his coma, his parents hadn’t known if Noah’s intelligence had been affected or if he would be functional. For many years, he hadn’t been.

So many surgeries. Once Noah began shifting at a delayed thirteen, the spider web of scars mapping his body from the accident had vanished, but he’d nevertheless spent the bulk of his childhood in hospitals and rehab centers. The fall had injured his wolf. His shifter blood healed him sporadically and sometimes had no effect at all. Infections had set his recovery back and had nearly killed him twice. He’d fought, though. Every time. He’d regained full use of his arms and hands. He’d learned to read. Then, had relearned it after a nasty bout with encephalitis had wiped out whole sections of his memory. When his first shifts had mended the worst of the damage, he’d climbed out of his wheelchair before his recovery had plateaued, too. He’d never run a marathon, but with a little help and support, he could walk. He’d even managed to complete a home-study course on website design and had begun building his business online, which was unheard of in the shifter community, where adults learned blue-collar trades passed from father to son. Noah might be the first shifter to earn a human degree, an achievement he and his family were proud of.

None of that mattered. He was useless in the eyes of other shifters, weak. A sick animal to be culled from the pack. City shifters had shunned his family when they’d appealed to humans for help in saving Noah’s life, and his parents had sacrificed everything, leaving town to avoid the shifters that might hurt him.

There was nothing to prevent them from hurting him now. And Noah couldn’t prevent the shift that would spell his doom from happening. Especially after the pack’s alpha walked through the bedroom door with a platter of raw, bloody meat.

Noah was close, his wolf near the surface. He’d smelled the metallic tang of blood before Wade opened the door. Noah scrambled to the other side of the bed, shoving his body into the corner, to hell with his bad leg. Once that intoxicating scent intensified in the confines of the room and the fresh bright red of the kill made Noah’s mouth water, resistance would be futile.

“No,” he groaned as the shifter laid the platter of meat on the bedroom floor.

“Stop fighting this. You need to shift. If you refuse, I’ll command you to do it by nightfall.”

Noah squeezed his eyelids shut, chest heaving at the delicious scent. “No, no, no,” he mumbled, fingers clenching and releasing the sheets as he pushed away.

“Your strong will is to your credit, but what lies must they have told you to compel you to deny what you are?”

When Noah shook his head, the alpha’s arms snaked around him, gently tugging him from the bed. Noah tried to yank away, but he hurt so bad. His skin itched, too tight for his body. His bones ached to the marrow. The alpha pulled him from the bed. He carried him to the floor where the meat waited, as though Noah’s weight was hardly a burden, as if Noah’s squirming was just a trifling annoyance. His brothers were so careful with Noah and afraid of hurting him, he’d forgotten that about shifters. They were fucking
strong
.

“Accept what you are meant to be,” the alpha said, settling Noah on the hard floor. Wade pulled his own shirt off. He dropped his hand to his fly. He unzipped his pants. He kicked free of his clothes. “Shift.”

Then, the bastard crouched and tempted Noah’s wolf by loosing his own. Thick black fur pushed through Wade’s skin, his bones elongating, his chest narrowing.

That was too much for Noah, more than he could bear. Despite his grief-stricken cry, his human mind receded, and the wolf tore free to obey and join the alpha. Unlike Wade’s transformation between man and wolf—smooth due to years of practice and experience—Noah’s shift was awkward. Painful. He grunted, groaned, and shouted as his bones broke, at the terrific ache in his chest as the wolf’s extra ribs took shape. He contorted while new vertebrae wedged into his spine. His skin burned, his fur slowly pushing through. He screamed in agony when his skull reformed, his glasses skidding across the floor while he twisted and convulsed, but the wolf triumphed. Even as blood dripped from his fingertips where his claws had erupted, Noah’s wolf pushed its snout forward to lick at the stinging wounds.

Already back in his human form with his mission accomplished, Wade stroked the top of Noah’s head. He scratched behind Noah’s ears, which felt amazing. Noah thumped his tail against the oak floor.

“You’re starving needlessly. No one will hurt you or your wolf again,” Wade said, rising to fumble for his discarded clothes. “You agreed to honor the pact, but you must be stronger before the mating can proceed.”

The wolf wanted the meat. He was cavernously hungry, his belly a gnawing pit, but the platter had been knocked aside during Noah’s writhing. The wolf couldn’t reach it. No matter how he tried to push his legs beneath him, the wolf could not stand and he wouldn’t crawl, not if he could help it. His right haunch tensed, but the muscle refused to work. He had better luck with the left leg, which he could at least push upright, but the leg buckled when he gave it his full weight. He whined, maddened by the lush scent of meat.

“Eat,” Wade said, shirt bunched in a ring around his neck. He pulled his pants over his hips. “Your alpha demands it.”

The wolf didn’t have an alpha. The scent of his father, the closest thing to an alpha the wolf had known, didn’t perfume the air, or the tangy musk of his brothers and sister. That lack and his loss suddenly vised his chest, his grief over his absent family more wrenching than his sorrow at the distance separating him from the food he craved.

Wade nudged the platter closer. “Eat it all or you won’t have the energy to shift into a short, stubborn man again.”

Jaws snapping, the wolf snatched hungrily at the meat, sharp teeth sinking into raw protein. Delirious with delight at the forgotten flavor of fresh game, he gobbled the thick cut and then crawled closer to steal another morsel.

He didn’t notice when Wade left the room.

The wolf ate until his belly stretched full and the meat was gone, until he’d licked the platter clean of blood and juices. He lapped the spatters on his paws and the floor too, consuming every drop.

Then, the wolf rested its snout on its front paws and drifted to sleep.

Chapter Two

Noah woke on a massive four-poster so big he was lost on acres of mattress. He sighed at the brush of satin against his hypersensitive skin rather than the cotton sheets and blanket in his previous room. That place was utilitarian, a holding cell. This space was a palatial suite containing not only the decadent bed in the sleeping area, but through twin oak doors, he spied a beautifully outfitted den with heavy antiques and half a television hidden by a partially closed armoire. Along one bedroom wall, heavy drapes lined picture windows, dark with the sun fully set. A tiffany lamp on an ornate writing desk in the corner bathed the room in a soft glow.

Even more enticing, the husky voice of a man talking reached his ears. Not just any man.
The
man and shifter who had taken him from his father’s home what felt like epochs ago. Frightening. Exhilarating. In the den, he spoke in a low rumble to the beta who had guarded Noah most, and Noah cocked his head, concentrating to listen. OSHA. Humans subcontracted to deliver concrete to a jobsite had shown up drunk for the last time. The alpha would never trust those humans in his supply chain again.

Muscles softening to goo as he sank into the mattress, Noah relaxed.

He was safe for the moment.

His leg didn’t hurt much, odd since he remembered the shift. Hard to forget the misery of joints popping and bones reshaping. Impossible to block the salty taste of meat fresh on his tongue. Whatever medical debris left in his body was gone. Pins, plates, the bar supporting his tibia, all had been lost in the shift. Only a few years ago, an accidental shift would’ve roused him in agony to the steady
blip, blip, blip
of monitors while humans in white lab coats talked in low voices about repairing the damage Noah’s loss of control had caused. Until they’d begun aconitum therapy. No more unplanned shifts meant the tools stabilizing his knee and holding his shattered body together stayed where they should. No more of that kind of pain at least.

But Noah had shifted and truly felt wonderful. His muscles tingled. His senses felt keener, the slide of satin on his skin a wonder to him. The luscious scent of the alpha nearby enthralled him, the intensity of Wade’s smell driving Noah mad. His heart beat a little faster and the air tasted sweeter. It was like being reborn.

He was still weak. Exhaustion weighed him down and he wasn’t foolish enough to believe getting up from this bed was smart. Even if his body could manage the abuse of walking without extra support, the two shifters in the other room would stop him. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Maybe they had forgotten he existed.

Probably not, but Noah felt too good to question his reprieve. He’d shifted, revealing his damaged wolf, and Wade hadn’t killed him. That was good, better than he’d hoped. The alpha had claimed him to fulfill the old mating pact; Wade would fuck him. There was no escaping that. While Noah didn’t look forward to losing his virginity to a stranger, humiliation was nothing new to a shifter judged as flawed as he was. The important issue was, after Wade had his revenge, the alpha would reject Noah as a proper mate and return him to the farm. To his life. And in the meantime, sex.

Fantastic sex.

If the alpha intended to rape him and thereby destroy any possibility of a mating, that would’ve happened already. Instead, Wade had fed him. Forced him to shift and re-awakened that other dormant side of Noah.

Wade was tempting Noah’s wolf, which was smart. Diabolical even. Admiring the ingenuity of the alpha’s strategy felt bizarre, especially since Noah would soon become a victim of it, but he couldn’t help respecting the man. Any monster could punish with rape, pain, and torment. It took a special kind of monster to woo the wolf inside Noah into a partial mating that would tie him to the alpha for a lifetime. Unless Wade bit him in return, the alpha would remain free to deny mating such a damaged wolf and walk blithely away, while Noah suffered. He’d crave his lost lover and their incomplete mating until he died.

Noah would enjoy his debauchery first, at least.

And the city shifters would have their vengeance. Cruel, but in their eyes, just punishment for all the trouble he’d caused.

Control, power, nurturing, and lust would coax the wolf inside to mate. That’s precisely what Noah had and would continue to receive from the alpha. And sex. Blistering hot, mind-consuming sex. Whatever pleasures prodded Noah to make the mating bite.

Since Noah had never believed his wolf strong enough to lure another’s interest, that wasn’t exactly a hardship. He squirmed in the bed, vowing that he wouldn’t fight the mating. With his wolf rousing, resisting Wade was pointless anyway. Once, if only this once, Noah would yield to the damaged wolf inside him and enjoy his seduction.

The click of the door closing in the other room couldn’t jar Noah’s euphoric anticipation loose, or the appearance of the alpha at the entrance to the bedroom. Wade stared at Noah, sprawled naked in his bed, and Noah stared in return. The doorway was large, expansive, and Wade filled it, tall and broad-shouldered, the barrel of his muscled chest outlined by the navy Henley he wore. Or
had
worn because, while Noah watched, Wade lifted his arms and stripped off his shirt.