Savage Satisfaction (4 page)

“Are you evil?” she asked.

“Because I like men? No. Let me guess, you grew up with a
Bible at your bedside.”

He made it sound as if that were a bad thing. “You have not
answered. Are you evil? You must not lie.”

“No, I’m not evil. And if it makes you feel better I like
girls too.” There was laughter in his words.

“What?”

“It’s called bisexual, or bi. That’s your second new word
for the day.”

“You want to marry both women and men?”

“Marry, no. Have sex with, yes.”

“It is a sin to have sex before marriage.”

“Then what are you going to do if good old William comes
here demanding your virginity?”

“I will grant it to him. He is my master.”

“You went through some good brainwashing.”

“I am not brainwashed. I know my place. And I know that I
like boys, not boys and girls. It must be very confusing to be you.”

There was a beat of silence and then he laughed. It was not
the short barking laugh of before but a deep belly laugh like a child’s. It
made her smile. She’d never talked with a boy like this. Boys and girls were
kept separate until marriage, and most marriages were arranged, so there was
very little contact with the boy before the wedding. Mirela had never really
cared about talking to boys, though her sisters and cousins were forever trying
to sneak into their company. She’d always been more focused on the sky, and
since she would never marry, no one cared that she would rather be flying than
sneaking off to a fair.

“You have a nice laugh,” she said. “I like it.”

“You are far more interesting and fun than I thought. I
imagined you’d be mousy.”

“Mousy? That is a silly thing for a wolf to tell a falcon.”

“True, and we’d better stop talking about it because it’s
making me hungry.”

Her stomach rumbled in response to his words, and once more
she was forced to examine the situation in which she found herself. She could
tell from the silence he was doing the same.

“Your name is Christoffer, yes?”

“And you’re Mirela. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mirela.”

“I am happy to meet you, Christoffer.”

This time the silence was not as sad nor as long.

“It is the necklace, isn’t it?” she asked.

“That’s stopping us from changing? It must be. Though we
should probably call it a collar rather than a necklace.”

“Collar, yes.” She stroked hers with two fingers,
remembering with a grimace how she’d admired it and then willingly placed it
around her neck. “There must be very powerful magic on it.”

“I’m just hoping this isn’t leaching away our power forever.”

Mirela’s breath caught. It had never occurred to her that
this necklace might be permanently stripping her of her falcon.

“I have to get it off!” She jumped from the cot, fingers
digging between the collar and her neck. She ran to the bars and began throwing
herself at them, face turned to the side so that the collar hit the bars.

“Mirela, stop it! Whatever you’re doing, stop.”

She staggered in pain when she misjudged and hit her cheek
on a bar. “I must have it off. It is killing my falcon.”

“No, it’s not.” She could barely hear his words over the
clanking of metal. “Mirela, stop. Your falcon is there.”

Clang, clang.
“I would rather be dead than live
without my falcon.”

“I understand, believe me, but you have to stop.”

Her elbows were bruised, her face hurt. Mirela leaned her
forehead between two of the bars, panting.

“I would rather be dead,” she whispered.

“You can still change. Your falcon is still there.”

“How do you know?”

“Try to change, you’ll feel the magic is still there.”

Mirela stepped back, crouched and spread her arms. Again the
scent of flowers carried on the wind filled the dark, but faded gently.

The wolf was right, her falcon was still there.

“I smell flowers and leaves,” Christoffer said as Mirela
rose to her feet.

“My falcon is still there.”

“Sorry I scared you. I wasn’t thinking.”

“How can you be so calm?”

There was a beat of silence, then, “There’s always a way
out.”

“You’ve been in this situation bef—”

A key rattled. The door opened.

William threw open the door, letting sunlight spill into the
chamber. He heard Christoffer whisper, “Stay calm.”

They were finally awake. He breathed a sigh of relief. It
had been almost four hours since he’d left them and he’d come back to check
every hour. He closed the door, locking it and putting the key in his shirt
pocket before flipping the light switch. The lights were set to illuminate each
of the cages and the area he thought of as his “training” space.

Both the wolf and the falcon flinched when the lights came
on, and William had a brief pang of guilt.

“I hope you rested well,” he said quietly.

“There’s a difference between sleeping peacefully and being
knocked unconscious,” Christoffer said.

William ignored him and turned to the falcon.

She really was lovely. She sat on the cot, chest curled down
to her knees, hair hiding her face. The light created a halo around her.

“Mirela?”

She looked up, hair hanging over half her face, then rose to
her feet and came to the bars. He wanted to apologize, wanted to open the door
and bring her back to the house. He wanted to reassure her that everything was
okay—but he didn’t know how to say it. Even in his own head the words seemed
stupid and weak, so he retreated behind a mask—retreated behind the persona of
the all-powerful and commanding lord of the manor. Later he would make it up to
both of them. This horrible building, the training they were about to embark
on, were needed only until he knew he could trust them.

“It is time for us to begin training together. I want for
us, all of us,” he looked over his shoulder at Christoffer, who lounged on his
cot, “to become a seamless unit. I know you are used to living with others of
your kind, so I am going to teach you how to behave here.”

“And how do you want us to behave?” Mirela whispered.

“Loyalty. You must be totally loyal to me. That is the only
way I’ll be able to trust you—if I know you’ll do my bidding.”

“You’ll domesticate us?” Christoffer asked.

“If that is how you’d like to see it.” William smiled at
Mirela, who seemed hesitant. He put the key in the lock and twisted.

Her head jerked up at the noise, a falcon-quick movement.

He pushed the door open and stepped back, gesturing her out.
She took one hesitant step, then sprinted out, running as far from her cage as
she could get. She stopped with her back pressed against the other bars.
Christoffer leapt off his cot and came up behind her. He touched her shoulder
and put his lips to her ear, whispering something William couldn’t hear.

“Mirela, come here,” William commanded, heartbeat speeding
up. She seemed wilder than before, wilder even than when she’d been a falcon on
his wrist.

She stepped away from Christoffer, who backed off, his face
set in grim lines.

“You are to stay away from her,” William told him, worried
as to what the wolf might have been saying to her. He took Mirela’s hand and
pulled her toward the open space in the middle. He seated her in the armchair
and then took a seat on the trunk across from her. He’d filled the trunks with
various provisions. There were even some items of his grandfather’s, things
used to “break” a wild animal—though William had no intention of using them.

“Today, we will start simply. You are to change on my
command, and then change back, again on my command.”

He reached beneath the collar of his shirt and pulled out a
carved bit of wood.

“Lift your chin please.”

She obeyed, her hair falling away from her face. One cheek
was red and swollen.

“What happened to you?” William demanded. He looked at
Christoffer, who lifted his hands and shook his head. It couldn’t have been the
wolf, he’d been safely locked up.

“Mirela, who did this to you?”

She turned her face away.

“She did it to herself,” Christoffer said. Mirela whipped
her head around to glare at him and, as before, the movement was falcon-quick.

“Why?” William asked. Her cheek was swollen and red. It
needed ice, maybe a doctor.

“Do you really need to ask?” Christoffer replied.

William cupped Mirela’s chin and turned her face to him.
“Why did you hurt yourself?”

“I was trying to remove this cursed thing.” She turned her
head, her chin slipping from his fingers as she indicated the collar.

“Lift your chin and I will take it off you.”

Mirela looked at him, then eagerly lifted her chin.

William fitted the icon he wore around his neck carefully
between the falcon disks. The collar popped open. Before he could lift the
collar from her, Mirela took it and flung it away. It skittered across the
floor.

“Careful,” he admonished. He frowned at her, reevaluating
his plans.
Patience
, he reminded himself. Having the collar on was
probably a terrifying thing, though they were inside a building and it wasn’t
as though she would have been able to fly anyway.

Her eyes were closed as she ran her fingers along her now bare
throat. William’s thoughts shifted from concern over her attitude to concern for
his own mental health. It was simply ridiculous to be so distracted by a pretty
girl. He wanted to trace her throat with his tongue as he thrust into her.
William shook his head to dispel the fantasy.

He put his hands behind his back.

“If you are to earn my trust I need to know you will obey
me. You must learn to respond to my commands without thought or argument. I am
your master and you must obey without hesitation.”

Christoffer snorted. William ignored it. He’d been
rehearsing this speech all afternoon.

“The most important act of obedience will be to change on
command. We will practice this until I am satisfied that you will change when
and if I command.”

“If?” Mirela asked. The question was quiet. “We will only be
allowed to change if you ask us to?”

“If I command,” he corrected.

Mirela bowed her head.

William’s chest swelled with satisfaction, this was going to
work. “We begin. Mirela,” he said, deepening his voice, “your master commands
you to take the form of the falcon.”

Christoffer let out a bark of laughter.

Mirela stood, tucked one foot behind her and curtsied. “Yes,
my lord.” She looked up and her eyes were bright and sharp. William’s heart
leapt and he fought the urge to fall back a step. The look in her eyes… Was
that hate? No. It couldn’t be.

She crouched and spread her arms.

William licked his lips, his brief moment of fear forgotten
in anticipation.

A sharp wind began to blow around his legs. He looked over
his shoulder to see if the door was open but it was still closed. This was it,
this was the magic of the change.

Her hair whipped around her face and the wind carried on it
the smell of winter cold and summer flowers. The walls echoed back the sound of
bones popping and skin splitting. Bile rose in William’s throat but he
swallowed it back and made himself watch as her skin rippled and her body
shrank. There was a moment when she wasn’t recognizable as either human or
falcon—but in the next breath her body had re-formed as the falcon. The bird of
prey hopped out of the tangle of clothes she’d left behind.

“Beautiful,” William said. The light caught the patterns of
her wings, the subtle colorings of cream and brown. One large black eye
regarded him. It—no, she, for this was Mirela, his falcon—spread her wings.

“Ah, can I say something?” Christoffer had a white-knuckled
grip on the bars of his cell.

“No.” William didn’t need any more biting comments from the
wolf. His pride was smarting from the way the boy had laughed at his speech.

“Mirela, don’t be stupid,” Christoffer said. He paced down
his cell to be closer to the bird. She was opening and closing her wings softly.
“Mirela, be calm.”

“Stop talking to her,” William said, frowning. Was
Christoffer taunting her?

Christoffer was crouched, whispering to the falcon, who’d
taken a few awkward steps closer to him.

“I said stop.” William walked toward them.

Mirela spread her wings, beak opening. She made a strange
hissing noise.

He took another step and his foot hit the collar she’d
kicked away. He picked it up. “Mirela, change back, now.”

The falcon opened her beak again, and this time let out a
piercing cry. She spread her wings and took off. She flew in tight circles
around the limited space.

“I command you to change back,” William said, struggling to
keep his voice calm.

“Look out!” Christoffer shouted.

The falcon streaked toward him, razor-sharp claws spread.

Christoffer’s warning came too late.

Mirela’s back claw caught William’s right cheek, opening a
deep gash. He roared in pain and dropped to his knees, hands pressed to his
face. For one horrible moment he couldn’t see out of his right eye. He blinked
hard and his vision returned. He could see the blood dripping from between his
fingers to fall to the stone floor.

“Mirela, calm down, stop! You can’t get out!” It was
Christoffer’s voice. Holding his face, William looked up to see the falcon
darting across the ceiling. She hit the roof, dropped a few feet, caught
herself and went careening into a wall.

Christoffer ran to him. William had dropped to the ground
close enough to the bars that the boy was able to reach through them and touch his
shoulder.

“Did she get your eye?” he asked, voice grim. “She’s
panicked.”

As Christoffer spoke, Mirela streaked between two of the
bars, on a collision course with the wall. Christoffer leapt to his feet with
inhuman quickness and snatched the falcon from the air. Her claws caught him
once across the chest before he got her under control. Folding her wings, he
wrapped his arms around her, turning her so she faced out and couldn’t get him
with her beak. The falcon screamed.

William grabbed her collar and staggered to his feet, one
hand still on his face. He reached between the bars and slid the collar over
the falcon’s head. It snapped closed, and for a moment lay heavy around the
falcon’s upper body.

The falcon’s scream turned into that of a woman as Mirela
took human form once more.

She thrashed in Christoffer’s hold, her hair flying around
her face, sticking to her sweaty skin. She continued to scream, though now it
was words, most of which he didn’t understand, though he did hear her call him
an ass.

She was wild, insane. Inhuman.

Pain swept over him as his shock faded, and he gritted his
teeth and groaned. It felt as though the right side of his face were on fire.

As the pain ebbed, William was overwhelmed by anger.

He pushed away from the bars, wobbling. “How…dare you,” he
growled. He barely recognized his own voice. Christoffer released Mirela, who
backed away. Christoffer wore the same expression as the day before when
William had forced him to his knees—as if he were a soldier at attention. He
seemed to be waiting, waiting for William’s command.

Grandfather was right, they are savages, animals. Don’t
be fooled because they look human.

“Christoffer,” William said, “bring her to me.”

Christoffer’s face crumpled briefly in sadness, but then his
shoulders firmed and he turned to Mirela. She was pressed against the far wall,
horror writ upon her features as she looked at William.

“Make this easy on me, will you?” Christoffer asked as he
reached her side.

She babbled in Romani until Christoffer shook his head and
reminded her to speak English.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You cannot keep me from the sky,” she
said, head swiveling from Christoffer to William.

William’s heart softened. She was panicked, acting on
instinct.

But that was what he feared most.

A new rush of pain brought a new rush of anger—anger
combined with old grief and fear. He had to gain control over them, he would
not let the past repeat itself. He would not be his father.

Christoffer grasped her upper arm and led her to the door of
his cell, but she jerked away.

“You would give me to him? Traitor.” She spat in
Christoffer’s face.

For the first time William thought more kindly of the wolf
than of the falcon. He’d been a fool blinded by her beauty.

“Bring her to me,” he repeated.

Christoffer, who had looked pained at her words—that is,
before she spat in his face—grabbed her arm and hauled her to the cell door.
William reached through the bars and took her arm. Mirela shrank back from him.

He needed his other hand to unlock the door. He lifted his
palm from his face. A fresh wave of pain overtook him, nearly bringing him to
his knees. His fingers tightened their hold on her arm.

Fumbling in his pocket for the key, he extracted it and then
unlocked the door. He released her to push it open. She tried to run but
Christoffer caught her.

“You’ll let him take me?” she demanded.

“Look what you did. I told you to stay calm,” Christoffer
said.

“I can’t, not with this.” She ripped at the collar. “Didn’t
you hear him? He is controlling my falcon, your wolf. Why would you obey him?
You are angry as I.”

“I have to obey him,” Christoffer hissed through gritted
teeth, “he’s my Alpha.”

William lost the thread of their conversation at that
interesting point. The throbbing of his damaged face stole his attention. He
didn’t realize he was falling until strong hands caught him.

“William,” Christoffer said, warm breath puffing against his
hair, “you need to go to the doctor. You’re hurt. You need stitches.”

“You smell good,” he muttered, not even really knowing what
he was saying.

“And I’d be happy to let you smell me, among other things,
but that has to be after you go to the doctor.”

“I will deal with her first. I must. I will suffer—” He
stopped, panting, then swallowed. “I will suffer no disobedience or violence
toward me. I won’t let her be like that bitch. That bitch who almost killed,
almost killed…” William lost his thought, leaning heavily on the wolf.

“She didn’t mean to hurt you. She’s scared.”

Christoffer’s defense of her reignited William’s anger. He
pushed himself upright and met the wolf’s gaze. Christoffer bent his head.
William grabbed Mirela’s arm and dragged her from the cage. He pulled the door
closed and, after a pause, locked it.

Despite Christoffer’s obedience, William didn’t yet fully
trust the wolf.

Half dragging, half leaning on her, William took Mirela to
her cell. “I will not have disobedience from you,” he said. “I am your master.
You acknowledge this?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Then you will understand why I must do this. I cannot have
you, either of you, thinking it is acceptable to be violent toward myself or
any other member of my household.”

He pushed her into the cell and pulled the door closed. “I
had not planned to keep you in these cages for more than a night. They were
meant only to show you how serious I was and to protect us while you grew used
to your collars. But now…now you will remain in this cage until I say
otherwise.”

* * * * *

Mirela screamed and cursed in Romani.

Christoffer was not used to this kind of stress. He lived
his life for pleasure, in all its various legal and illegal forms. Even when
he’d been sent here, it had been nothing more than another adventure. Life was
fun. Life was sex and Class-A drugs.

The night in the forest, planning his quick escape from this
place, seemed months ago instead of only days. William was Alpha, his Alpha,
and Christoffer could not walk away or disobey. When William had ordered
Christoffer to bring Mirela to him, Christoffer had felt an overwhelming need
to obey.

Christoffer had grown up in a strong pack and obedience to
his Alpha came as naturally to him as breathing. His life of carefree
indulgence was possible only because he knew how to obey an Alpha. His Alpha,
his father, had borne the burden of life’s troubles for all the members of his
pack. Like any father he’d huffed and puffed about Christoffer getting a job,
making his own money, but in the end the Alpha had to support each member of
his pack.

No matter where Christoffer was in the world, he always knew
that whatever problem he encountered he could pass it on to his Alpha and
continue his carefree life until the Alpha told him what the solution was to
be.

But now that security was crumbling. He had found a new
Alpha, but this man was not a wolf and he had no paternal lenience.

And now that Christoffer had acknowledged William as an
Alpha there would be no escape.

“I have to be harsh with you. I-I have to.” William
staggered, shook his head, winced, then went on. His voice was barely audible
due to Mirela’s tortured screams. “If I am not you… You will hurt her. No, you
will.” He pointed at Christoffer.

“Who will I hurt?” Christoffer asked. William wasn’t making
sense. They were in trouble if he passed out.

“My mother,” William whispered.

“If you take my falcon,” Mirela said in English, “I have no
reason to live. I would rather you kill me than make me live without the sky.”

“I will let you fly when I wish it.”

“It is my only pleasure,” she ranted. Her hair hung in wild
tangles around her face. She looked like a gypsy witch. “It is all I love.
Without it I am lost. You want me to follow you around day and night, begging
to be allowed to fly? I would rather be dead.”

William staggered back, his strength finally gone.
Christoffer reached through the bars and caught him by the shoulders.
Electricity raced through his fingertips where they touched William.

With his assistance, William dropped to sit on the floor.
Christoffer knelt behind him, drawn instinctively into protection mode.

Protect the Alpha. Protect the Alpha.

“Perhaps I can offer you something. A gift,” William said
faintly.

“You will remove the collar?”

“Do not push me.” William slapped his hand on the floor. The
action was too vigorous and he had to pause to catch his breath. Christoffer
rubbed his shoulders. No Englishman should be this muscled.
Focus,
Christoffer, you’re in the middle of a crisis.
“I will, if I am satisfied
with your obedience after a few days, take your collar off during the day,
though you will remain locked in here.”

Mirela looked as though she would protest. Christoffer
glared at her. The girl had a one-track mind and didn’t know to quit when she
was ahead. What did she expect? She’d just ripped open the man’s face.

William tried to stand. Christoffer crouched, hooked his
hands under William’s arms and pulled him up.

“You need a doctor,” Christoffer reminded him.

“Doctor, yes…” William looked at Christoffer, who bit back a
yelp. William’s face was laid open to the bone. There was blood on his neck and
all down the right side of his chest. William nodded shakily and left, locking
the door behind himself.

“I can’t stay locked in here.”

“Would you please shut up about it?” Christoffer groaned.

“This is prison.”

“Yeah, it is. Guess what? You deserve it. You just attacked
him. If he went to human police about this they’d send you to prison. What did
you think you were doing? All he wanted was for you to be obedient. Change,
change back. That’s all he asked.”

She fell silent over that. But—unfortunately—the silence
didn’t last.

“I’m obedient,” she said.

If she really believed that she was deluded. “No, you’re
not. You think you’re obedient but you want your own way more than you want to
obey. You may have been a good daughter, or whatever it was that made you think
you’re obedient, but you’re selfish.”

“I’m not.”

Christoffer rolled to face the wall, though the whole
building was dark so it didn’t make a difference what way he faced. He was
trapped, truly trapped, for the first time in his life. Before, he’d always
been able to call his father if serious matters intruded on his pleasure. His
father always found him a way out of whatever situation he was in.

But his father would not find him a way out of this; it was
his father who had sent him here.

“I am not obedient?”

He gritted his teeth. He’d tried being nice to her, but
after what she’d done all he wanted was for her to shut up and not make the
situation any worse. She was selfish and annoying. “Glad you finally understand.”

“If I am not obedient what’s going to happen to me?”

“You’ll have to learn.”

“What if I can’t?”

“Then you’ll live in this fucking little prison forever.”

She didn’t speak again. Christoffer lay awake in the dark
for a long time.

* * * * *

Mirela lay on her belly, arms tucked against her chest.

The life she’d imagined under the rule of the lord was a far
cry from the life she now led. She hadn’t expected anything grand—a simple
room, chores and a few days each month spent flying for the lord’s pleasure.
She’d expected to, for the most part, find herself alone while at the lord’s
house.

She’d been an obedient daughter, doing chores, helping her
mother, never sneaking out the way her sisters did.

Lying in the dark with her face streaked with tears, she
could admit that her status as “tribute” had afforded her some leniency. Her
sisters had not been able to fly as often as she. There was always something
they should be learning—cooking, sewing, jewelry making—and so they did not get
to take to wing as often as she had.

It was the same for her brothers—there was always something
to do as humans that prevented them from taking to wing.

The wolf was right, she was selfish. She wanted her
pleasure—flying—more than she wanted to please Lord William.

The next time Lord William came for her she would do exactly
as he asked. She winced at the memory of what she’d done to his face.
Christoffer had been right—she’d aimed for his eye. The confined space had
thrown her off and she hadn’t had the power to aim properly, which was a stroke
of luck. What would have happened if she’d blinded him?

Despite the self-lecture and her remorse over the injury
she’d caused, Mirela wanted nothing more than to be free.

* * * * *

It took nine stitches to close up his face.

William had gone to his personal physician—a woman he paid
privately rather than deal with the National Health Service. He suspected the
doctor did not believe his story of falling from his horse in the woods but she
said nothing. He was given lovely pain pills and it wasn’t until the first one
took effect that he realized how much pain he’d been in.