Chapter One
Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. The persistent sound wasn’t helping the ache in Wesley’s bladder one damn bit. He needed to pee, but he didn’t want to lose the dream. It was his favorite - the one he had where he was back home with his pack in Cloverleah. Warm and safe in his bed with the hot body of a faceless male snuggled against him. Cloverleah, where there were pack runs, companionship, joking, shared meals, and happiness. Working for the FBI before that hadn’t been so bad either even though he was stuck in human form and had to hide what he was as if it was a deep dark secret. Hell, the FBI’s worst assignments were better than his current situation. Now? Wesley kept his eyes firmly shut. His reality wasn’t worth opening his eyes for these days.
Just five minutes more. Wesley tried to adjust on the sandy floor to get comfortable, but reality was a harsh bitch who wouldn’t let him be. Sleep and his dream of home evaded him, destroyed by his insistent bladder and that damned relentless drip.
Unable to ignore either any longer, Wesley pushed himself to his feet, dropping into a fighting stance. The rock walls and ceilings mocked him as they did every second he was awake. “Arrrgh!” He screamed, fists clenched, the veins in his neck standing out. “I’ve fucking had enough of this shit. Fight me. Kill me. Beat me. Just fucking do something, you bastards. Where the fuck are you?”
Just like all the other times he’d screamed at the rock walls, Wesley got no answer. Damn his fucking wolf shifter hormones. Damn them all to hell. They got him into this. That fucking night at the stupid human club seemed liked years ago. Wes had no clue how much time had really passed since that fateful night. It wasn’t as if he could see days passing in a cave with no sun or moon to guide him. Fuck. He screamed again. “Come fight me, you fuckers!”
The echo died away to the drip, drip, drip, which only made him want to scream more. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” Each step to the edge of the wards was punctuated by a ‘fuck’. Wes celebrated with a “goddamn it” when he reached the spot he used for peeing. The bastards didn’t provide him with a toilet. At least the sand absorbed the liquid. Taking a crap was a different matter and he’d created a spot for that as far away as he could from his living space. Shifted, it was easier, and his wolf did his best to bury the necessary function. The wolf hated pacing around the cave as much as Wesley did, but in between bouts of raging at their captivity, both of Wesley’s spirits realized shifting was a necessity at times. And they both gave the toilet area a wide berth except when having to use it.
The one thing Wesley’s captivity had given him, was the time to meditate on his transgressions. Fuck it, what else was there to do when stuck in isolation in a fucking cave. In the long hours, days, weeks – hell, it could have been months for all Wesley knew – he came to realize that it was his jealousy towards his full wolf shifter pack mates that gave the Dark Elves their opening into his psyche; that it was his personal emotional hell that the fucking Dark Elves could exploit. And boy, did those fuckers exploit him.
Even now, Wes remembered the beautiful man, so fucking exquisite with the slight scent of a paranormal he couldn’t place. Tall and slim, ethereally elegant, with a silver tongue who spouted sympathetic words, and who seemed to know exactly what to say to get Wesley to open up. Only in hindsight did Wesley see how the man had twisted his thoughts, saying just enough to feed into an anger Wes had never admitted to himself.
Goddamn it. I was so fucking ripe for the picking. It didn’t take anything for the beautiful man to convince him to go out to the parking lot for a quickie. The man understood Wesley, sympathizing and encouraging his pain, his anger, and even… oh fuck it… the tiny slice of vengeance Wes felt towards his pack mates that ate away at his soul, coupled with the guilt he carried because he knew he should never feel that way. But Wes had been so fucking lonely as he watched his pack find their mates one by fucking one. And underneath that loneliness was the fucking fear that a half wolf didn’t deserve a love like that and that he’d never have someone accept him for exactly who he was. That dark angel had played him like the old proverbial fiddle, and he walked right into the trap so artfully set for him.
Wesley had accepted his captivity was all his own fault. Cloverleah was his pack. Even if he wasn’t entitled to a mate because he was a half breed, the pack took him in as their own. Hell, Wes had helped protect the pack on more than one occasion. And Wes goddamn got what he damn well deserved because he betrayed his pack and his alpha by listening to that beautiful fucker in that stupid club, to the point of getting himself captured. He didn’t get the blow job or the quickie he was looking for, but he damn well got what he deserved.
Not a lot of point in thinking about it now. Sighing, Wes freed his cock, letting his pee flow, staring into the fuzzy gloom that didn’t let him see much of the rest of the world beyond the wards. Not that he would see much anyway in the eerie red glowing half-light that never changed from one hour to the next.
Wes had lost all track of time ages ago. His phone didn’t work and died completely when the battery ran out. His watch was frozen at 10:32, Friday April 19th. The only reason Wes knew the watch was indicating p.m. was because that was the moment he’d been taken. Who knew how long ago? Wes didn’t have a clue, but it sure felt like several lifetimes. Several lifetimes of sand and the goddamn warded cave he couldn’t escape.
He stared down, purely because the view hadn’t changed and then frowned. Huh. That’s fucking weird. Great. He was going bat shit crazy because now he was fascinated by pee patterns. Wes stared and cocked his head. Something was different this time. Where’s the line?
The first time Wesley’s bladder pushed hard enough to make him find a spot to pee, the freaking line against the wards had, excuse the phrase, pissed him off. The dark bastards were so dead set on keeping him captive, even his pee couldn’t escape. The wards crackled every time he’d edged toward them to see if he could breach them in any way. Not even his pee could get through, something Wes was reminded of, every single time he had to empty his bladder and his pee formed a line in the sand.
Today, there wasn’t a line. This must be some kind of trick. Stuffing his cock back into his dirty smelly pants, Wes edged forward, tentatively reaching out his hand to where the wards should be. He held his breath, waiting for the shock and burning that trying to breach the wards would bring, along with the final jolt backwards that always threw him on his ass.
Nothing happened, but Wes could clearly see his arm was beyond where the wards should be. Maybe the dark ones have been watching me and don’t like me peeing on their wards. Maybe, they’ve been moved out a bit. Wesley stretched his arm out a bit further and then he wiggled his fingers. “What the fuck?” He waved his arm in a circle. Still nothing. Not a crackle, a zap, or anything to suggest the wards had ever been there.
“I’ve lost it. I’ve completely lost it.” Wesley stared at the end of his fingers, almost afraid to bring his arm close again. “Son of a bitch. If this is some fucking sort of game, I’ll shred the next dark bastard I see.” He slowly lowered his arm, wondering if the lack of wards was just another way the dark bastards were fucking with him.
Glancing back into the cave, Wes took in the dip in the sand he had created a nest out of to sleep in, and then over at the rapidly shrinking store of food he had rationed since it suddenly stopped appearing. Well, hell. He’d been rationing from day one, never sure if he could trust his captors to feed him regularly. But the last food appeared quite some time ago, and his reserves were sparse. Wes had been wondering for a while now, if the dark bastards were simply going to starve him to death. Wards down. No food. Something had happened. Wes just wasn’t sure what.