Page 4 of Wolf Bound

That’s the exception to their weakness rule. They can make me weak all they want, as long as it’s used to get what they want. The Croisés, previously known as The Crusaders throughout history, love to have rules for me that they frequently break.They’re psychotic and deranged. Power is the only thing that they actually care about. Well, power and God. They want my power to bring them closer to God.

The clinking of metal grabs my attention, my green eyes darting to the metal door that separates my set of cells from the rest of the facility. It’s probably my daily allotment of food, but according to the clock, it’s about three hours too early.

My muscles tense as the door opens, prepared for the white lab coats of the doctors to drag me away to one of their exam rooms.

Instead, a man in handcuffs is pushed through the door, landing face first into the wet concrete of the hallway with a groan. A guard saunters in after him, my blood running cold at the sight of him. This guard is the worst of all the guards in this place. His beady, dark brown eyes watch me in the way that makes your hair stand on end and your skin crawl with disgust.

If it weren’t highly against the rules of the compound, I know he would have forced himself on me by now.

“Hey, pretty one,” he calls to me, licking his lips as he looks me up and down. It takes all of my effort to force back the vomit clawing its way up my throat. Looking down, I hear him laugh in triumph from the movement. “That’s right, bitch. Bow your head to me and submit.”

There’s no winning a game that’s been rigged against me. If I keep eye contact, he thinks I’m interested and the threats get vivid and detailed. If I drop my eyes, he sees it as weakness and a surrender to his superiority over me. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. That’s what the female lab tech said to me the one time I asked about the behaviour.

A groan from the man on the ground drags the guard’s eyes away from me finally. Following the sound, I shed a silent tear at the state of this obviously strong man they dragged down here.

He’s covered in blood and dirt, his hair a matted mess at the back of his head. The doctors were talking about bringing in anew male prisoner to start the breeding process, and my heart aches knowing he’s only in this state because of me. He must have fought like hell against the Croises people that took him.

There's no denying this man is a shifter, though without meeting many, I can't tell you from his scent what he is. Humans all have the same underlying scent that marks them as non-magical. The scent reminds me of the bar soap they give me to clean myself once a month. It's basic, not much to write home about. Whereas this man has an underlying musk, that makes every inch of me and my girl perk up with the smell. It's like a smoky fire, or at least what I can discern from the fires they have here. The fires here normally have a harsh chemical scent mixed with the scent of burning blood which is very unpleasant.

The guard grabs the man by the back of his hair and drags him to the cell beside me. Throwing him inside, the asshole takes great pleasure in slamming the cell door closed and locking it. The sadistic asshole loves to feel like he's better than the charges he watches over. He's so pathetic in the human world, he needs to get his kicks off by pulling power trips on shifters that are already weakened before they get to him.

"Have fun in your prisons! I'll be dreaming of you, pretty one," the guard calls out, jingling his keys in a taunting dance as he walks past my cell. What I wouldn't give to reach out and crush him like the insect he is. The punishment for retaliation against the staff is not worth the small sliver of satisfaction I would get from hurting him.

Once the door clangs shut again, I drop some of the tension in my shoulders and turn a more curious eye to the newcomer.

He doesn't look like he's doing well, his breathing heavy and laboured as he lays in the exact position he was thrown into moments before. They must have drugged him to get him this messed up and out of it. There's no way his animal isn't pushing past the damage to wreak havoc on the people that hurt him. Myperyton is considered docile compared to most shifter animals, at least that's what the scientists say, and even she would gut someone with her clawed hooves if they attacked us like they did him.

My peryton is brushing against my mind, urging me to check on the strange man. She ruffles her feathers at me, irritated with my hesitation. Something about this man has her in a frenzy, and she's chirping her angry sounds to get me to move faster. While she runs on instinct, I need to be logical in this situation which means I need to use caution when it comes to our magic. If I let our magic out, and the staff here get a taste of how strong I really am, my life is over. The only thing I have going for me right now is their perception of mydilutedmagic.

She pushes against me again, letting out a long, dramatic chirp that has me rolling my eyes.Okay, I'm going. But, you need to help me keep watch while we do this. If we're caught, this healing will be for nothing.

Scooting my body closer to the bars that separate us, I push out my hearing to see if anyone is coming near our hallway. They know I have magic, healing magic specifically, but allowing them to see it, especially used for someone else, would be bad for me. They are already salivating at the magic I have, though they claim it's not enough. If they catch wind that I've been hiding my true power from them, they'll destroy me in an attempt to get their hands on it. The Croisés don't care about supernatural life, they care about their own lives and that's it. Even humans that don't follow their insane preachings are expendable to them.

My palms grow sweaty as I contemplate how best to tackle this. If I heal him physically too much, they're going to suspect something. It was a rookie mistake I made when I was still young, and it led to them learning I had healing magic in the first place. Reaching a hand through the bars, I set my hand on theground, patting it to look like I'm getting his attention to check on him just in case someone comes in.

From my fingers I send out ropes of teal magic, weaving them together with my mind to create a blanket of magic that slides over his body and sinks beneath his skin. My eyes focus on him, noting where my magic flares to indicate an injury. The brighter the flare, the worse the injury is. His body is a road map of injury after injury, thankfully none of them seemingly life-threatening.

There’s an odd haziness to his blood that makes my magic pause for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. The haziness tickles the back of my mind, pulling at a memory I had buried in the sea of pain. I’ve seen the haziness myself, the one time they drugged me as a child to keep me compliant for what they called a bone marrow extraction. After I woke up, I had a similar haze in my body when I went to heal. I guess that explains why he didn’t fight back.

Working my magic through him, I heal the injuries that will bring him relief, but show no signs that he was healed. His own healing is much stronger than I expected, working in tandem with my own to expedite him back to full health. A small moan comes from the stranger, his body relaxing at the feel of my magic. With each healing touch, he relaxes more and more until soft snores come from his sleeping form.

Pulling my arms back into me, I shiver at the loss of some of my magic, the chill of the cells seeping into my body more than before. With my head resting back against the grimy wall behind me, I watch the stranger for a while, both my peryton and I are enthralled by him.

Other than the male humans that work here, I’ve never seen a man up close. Shifter men especially, are unheard of here. They bring them in for the breeding program and that’s it. The males of our species were the first to be eradicated since they werethought to be the strongest of us. Seeing as how I’m the last of my kind, I can’t confirm or deny that thinking.

Behind the injuries, there’s a handsome ruggedness to his features that I find extremely appealing. It makes me long to see him without the blood and bruises, to see what colour his eyes are or how kind his smile might be. Everything about him intrigues me, I just don’t know if it’s because he’s a shifter, or the hormones they’ve been injecting me with for weeks now.

His foot twitches, causing me to jump at the sudden movement. Everything in me freezes as my heart beats erratically in my chest. Part of me is terrified for him to wake up while the other part, the part that’s connected heavily to my peryton, is ready and eager to meet the stranger.

Another groan comes from the man as his entire body moves, the muscles that are showing through his torn white t-shirt tense and contract. One minute he’s lying on the ground, and the next, he’s on his feet, staring me down with glowing blue eyes.

“Where the fuck am I?” he growls, his hands clenched into fists at his side.

Sucking in a quick breath, I squeak out an unintelligible sound that makes me want to cry in frustration. It’s a feat in and of itself that I even made that sound, considering it’s been fifteen years since I last spoke out loud, but this man makes me want to break my vow and say every word that’s been trapped inside of me for years.

As the stranger stares at me, he drops his shoulders and releases the clenching of his fists, his face moving from rage to disbelief.

“Holy fuck, it’syou.”

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