Predatory

A/N: This chapter is split into two POVs, and the second POV contains some very dark, bloody descriptions of violence. Read at your own risk.

ZOE POV

Something’s off about this place, I can tell from the moment Xander triumphantly (but quietly) flings the doors at the southwest corner of the warehouse open. It’s dark within, but tinged purple in a way that’s definitely not natural. They got in with fae assistants, Rika said. I wonder if it’s the contractually bound ones who’ve been around the past couple years, or others with more combat experience?

Beside me, Drake’s massive gunmetal grey wolf is practically vibrating with impatience and anxiety.

“Easy,” I murmur, gently resting a hand on his shoulder while hoping he won’t take my hand off for it. “Something’s not right—”

He steps across the threshold anyway, and almost immediately Anselm’s assistant Ariadne flies into view. Abso-fucking-lutely not. That piece of sheet metal ought to do nicely. Pretty sure it’s aluminum, which is good—-for now.

“Boss, perimeter compromised!” Ariadne shrieks, but the aluminum sheet I’ve weaponized wraps around her, covering her mouth and pinning her to the nearest wall. If Ariadne’s here, Tempest probably is, too.

“Find her,” I tell Drake, and he’s off like a shot. Rika, Callum, and Xander follow me in. “Rika and Callum, tail Drake. Good chance Sasha will need a medic. Xander, with me. You got any experience with fae?”

“You got it,” Rika agrees, already moving to follow my plan with Callum grumbling behind her.

“You think there’s more than the one you cocooned in metal?” Xander asks.

“Probably. Step lightly and answer my question.”

“Haven’t had the privilege before. Any pointers?”

“Ariadne? You all right?” Tempest calls overhead. In an instant, I’ve got another sheet of aluminum airborne, and then he’s encased in it, pinned to the wall next to his partner in punishment. Perfect.

“Hot damn, you’re good,” Xander compliments me.

“Thanks. Step one was keeping them out of the duel,” I explain. I can hear angry catfight noises elsewhere in the warehouse, and Xander can probably hear more than I can, but I have to believe that situation is under control. “As for pointers, be very careful what you say around them and to them. Knowing your name can give them power over you, so I won’t be using it to address you. They like to make deals and bargains, but they’re always on the lookout for loopholes so that things don’t work the way you mean for them to. They really hate iron and silver. You got all that?”

“I hope so.”

“Me too. Our next step is to get some information from them. You down to help me with that?”

“Like, an interrogation? Fuck yeah.”

“Great. Let’s find a nice, quiet corner….”

I pull the metal fae cocoons along with us as I power-walk through the warehouse debris, forcing a path to clear for us with flicks of my fingers. Ariadne and Tempest are struggling inside their improvised prisons, but I’ve got them more or less completely immobilized; they can’t make the necessary gestures to create portals (or anything else) while they’re confined like this. Once I think we’re sufficiently removed from the combat zone, I put the metal cocoons in front of Xander and me and peel back the aluminum from the fae’s faces.

“Zoe! Is this any way to treat friends?” Ariadne demands.

“If I didn’t like you at least a little bit, I would have used some of the iron debris to get you and Tempest out of the way,” I reply testily.

“Fair point,” Tempest mutters. “We weren’t going to hurt Sasha, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I prefer not to take chances, and none of us know all the terms of your contracts to Anselm.”

“Who’s this with you? New boyfriend? What’s Rika think about that?” Ariadne taunts.

“This is my enforcer for today’s…festivities.” I gesture to Xander, who cocks his gun menacingly. Good. Perfect for the role. “Cooperate with me and you won’t have to find out first-hand what his job entails.”

“Actually, our contracts are technically in service of the Commander of Special Ops Forces, not Anselm specifically,” Tempest clarifies. “If Sasha wins this duel, we’ll be her thralls, not Anselm’s anymore.”

“She’s fighting to take his place?!”

“Technically. Which is the only way that matters.”

“What does that mean, exactly?” Xander whispers to me. I just shake my head at him. Now is not the time for stupid questions. He huffs, rolls his eyes, and then turns his attention to the immobilized fae. “What were the other terms of this duel?”

“Fight until one of them surrenders. Death and shifting between forms both technically count as surrender,” Tempest answers.

“Based on what we saw before you got here, Sasha actually had the upper paw, which is not something we saw coming,” Ariadne adds. “He must’ve really pissed her off. I’ve never seen her like this before.”

“You’re not usually in the field with her,” I mutter.

“She fucking tore his balls off,” Tempest deadpans.

“Excuse me what?!” Xander sputters.

“You heard me. Zoe, is Sasha the freaky type who always takes a body part as a souvenir in a fight, or—”

“No,” I interrupt. Good for you, Sasha. It seems like a fitting punishment for at least some of the hell Anselm’s put her through. “Does anyone at HQ know that this is happening?”

“We weren’t asked to report back to HQ about it, and so we didn’t,” Ariadne tells me, squirming ineffectually in her metal prison. “You know we don’t like Anselm. We weren’t going to do anything to help him unless he specifically asked us to, beyond using wards to keep anyone outside the warehouse from hearing all their commotion. Are these restraints really necessary?”

“I don’t take chances with fae. Any fae. I know you prefer to play your tricks on humans, not…creatures like us, but the risk is still there.”

“Goodness gracious, what was the point of being friends with you at all if you were gonna be like this when things got tough?” Tempest scorns.

“Does anyone else know we’re here?” I’m not in the mood to put up with their bullshit, but they don’t seem to be particularly inclined to answer this question, since I’ve made it clear I’m playing hardball. Fine, we can do this the hard way. I nod to Xander, who fires a warning shot dangerously close to Tempest’s pointy ear.

“Hey! What the fuck?!” Tempest yelps.

“Answer the question,” Xander growls. “Does anyone else know we’re here?”

“The Faerie Queen and her High Mage know our whereabouts at all times,” Ariadne answers hurriedly. “It’s part of the punishment contract. They have scrying pools and stuff. Can’t be sure how much they know about the situation and what they might choose to do with that information.”

“Well. I guess that settles that, then,” I sigh. “Thank you for your help. I’m afraid you’ll be staying here for a while, though. Can’t have you following us.”

“You’d leave us trapped here, in these metal straitjackets?!” Tempest protests shrilly.

“Unless you have a better way to guarantee me that you won’t be a thorn in my side later, I’m afraid this is the best plan I’ve got. But I’m willing to negotiate. You like making deals, right? What deal can we make that won’t violate your current contracts?”

***~O~***

DRAKE POV

What in the goddamn fuck?!

I wasn’t expecting to see a gorgeous, sleek, pitch-black panther behind that giant lion. They said that she was a panther, but somehow I still didn’t picture…this.

I also wasn’t expecting the lion to go down before I had a chance to hit him.

I definitely wasn’t expecting the panther to be covered in blood, dangling a clump of the lion’s intestines from her jaws. Vibrant green eyes meet mine, looking as stunned as I feel.

Mixed with the overpowering stenches of blood and cat musk, an intoxicating scent meets my nose: basil, sun-warmed ripe berries, lemongrass, and dark chocolate, all blended together. Is that…her? The panther? It has to be. But I’ve definitely smelled it before….

The training field in the metro park. Before we even met these two-faced…

Goddamn it, how deep does this go? Even then, Nikki—no, Sasha—was watching us.

Focus on the here and now, Drake. Get her out of here, and once you’re all safe she’ll have to explain everything, answer for all her lies.

Oh fuck. She’s holding her left hind paw off the ground. As she turns contemptuously away from the lion, swishing her tail angrily, I see her left hip is torn to shit. She’s walking pretty well without that foot, somehow, but she has to be in so much pain. I have to help her.

“Sasha?” I try to call her with thought-speech, which normally works with pack members, but the message seems to bounce off an invisible wall. Dammit, she’s not in the pack yet. We haven’t made it official. I can’t communicate with her that way.

And anyway, it doesn’t look like she needs a second for this fight. The lion is down, incapacitated. As Sasha walks, her jaws are still tightly clenched around the lion’s entrails, and she’s pulling more out of him. His roars of pain fade to gurgling groans of distress.

Elsewhere in the warehouse around us, there’s chaos—voices, sounds of struggle, footsteps, metal scraping the concrete floor, a gunshot—but all that matters right now is the panther dropping her mouthful of intestines into a tangle of extension cords and batting at the pile until it’s impossible, in this low light, to distinguish cable from colon. Then she stalks back towards the dying lion, left hind foot still elevated.

Her eyes meet mine and it’s like all the air’s been sucked from the room, like I’ve been slapped with a brick wall. If Rika was fucking terrifying earlier, Sasha’s on another level entirely. Venom and rage and pain flash in her eyes, emanating from her like a dark cloud.

Is this really the kind of person to take as a mate? Should I reject her? The thought makes my insides twist and shudder violently. In spite of everything, I’m still drawn to her. Maybe I can help her heal, help her work past whatever’s made her like this.

Then she’s passed me, still approaching the lion on the ground. Why bother with him? He’s done for.

The lion rolls a bit and swats at her weakly. He’s still conscious?! My heart is suddenly in my throat, but Sasha easily evades his paw and retaliates with a brutal smack to the lion’s head, which hits the concrete floor with a sickening crunch. A wicked glint comes into her eyes and she grabs a mouthful of the lion’s mane, then violently jerks her head up and down, bashing the lion’s skull into the floor again and again and again until bits of brain and bone splatter and scatter across the concrete.

Holy fucking shit. What a woman.

She’s impressively powerful in a way that’s incredibly alluring, but the brutality she’s committed in front of me is horrifying, sickening to a paralyzing degree. I know they said she hated him, and he wanted me dead, but could he really have deserved all that?

She certainly seems to think so. She looks quite satisfied with her work as she drops the lion’s head and turns away from him, and her gait is slow and triumphant despite the awkwardness created by her injured leg.

After only a few steps, she pauses, and then her legs buckle and she crumples gracelessly to the ground.

No.