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This wasn’t happening.
This couldn’t be happening.
It wasn’t fair.
But when had her life ever been fair?
Kidnapped. She made herself think the word. She’d been kidnapped. But why had they taken her?
Kidnappings were almost common on Earth, now. The wealthy had moved to the Moon, leaving most of Earth behind except for when they needed something or wanted to travel to an exotic locale. Criminal empires had sprung up, taking control of the Earth, but most of them left the citizens of the Moon alone when they visited. Until the Wolf.
The Wolf would occasionally select one or two of the young men and women visiting earth for schooling or leisure and they would… disappear. A few would return to society within a day or two; others could be gone for months. Those who were returned quickly boasted of sexual decadence, of orgies, of perverse pleasures… and suddenly the younger generations flocked to visit Earth, eager for a taste of danger. Most of them felt safe in the knowledge that they were unlikely to be taken, but they liked the idea that they could be gone for a day or two and thenreturned with all sorts of experiences outside the stale lives they usually led.
Mostly, no one talked about the unlucky few who were gone for longer periods of time. Those few never talked to anyone about their experiences, anyway.
There were very few photos of the Wolf, despite rabid interest. First-hand accounts couldn’t be trusted because they were so wild. The most anyone knew for sure was he had dark hair.
Which was why Trish was twice as terrified when she woke up in a room with another man—who’d told her his name was Alex—and woman—Bella—who had just woken up, as well, both bound to a pole the same way Trish was, and the first person to walk in had very, very light hair and therefore wasn’t the Wolf… he was a complete unknown.
Trish knew she was an anomaly with hair so pale it was nearly white. His hair was the same light, light blond, although his was only half an inch long or so. And unlike Trish, he was huge. She’d always been petite, with a slight figure, but in his presence, she felt even smaller. The man had muscles on his muscles, and he was so tall she was getting a crick in her neck from staring up at him, but she was too terrified to look away. If she wasn’t so scared, she might think he was handsome.
His cold, grey eyes slid over her, calculating, and Trish shivered and cringed back from his gaze.
Trish didn’t understand. She was from the Moon, yes, but not from an influential family like all the other kidnapping victims had been. Her parents had worked for a wealthy family before they’d died, leaving her an orphan. Fortunately, because she was smart, she’d been allowed to stay and had been educated on scholarship. She’d grown up in a Moon orphanage, which was still better than an Earth orphanage, but it hadn’t been pleasant. And she had nothing the Wolf would want.
Unless the Wolf wasn’t behind these kidnappings. The huge, blond man, who reminded her of the historical drawings she’d seen of Vikings, might be in charge. He certainly looked like the kind of man who would be in charge. But Alex and Bella were definitely the kind of people the Wolf would be interested in. They were dressed in expensive clothing, and—from the authoritative way Alex had spoken to Bella, whom he obviously knew, before the Viking had come in—at least one of them was used to being in charge.
The Viking shifted his gaze to the two and took in their darker hair and eyes, before his attention flicked back to Trish.
“Good. You’re all finally awake.” The curve of his lips tilted cruelly as he smiled, anticipation gleaming in his silvery eyes. Trish shivered again.
The Viking roped all three of them together, hobbled them, and led them down the hall. He told them his name was Jordan and admonished them to behave. He didn’t have to tell Trish or Bella twice, but she worried Alex might do something. He was obviously furious and protective of Bella.
To Trish’s surprise, some of that protectiveness seemed to include her, as well. His lips thinned every time he looked around, as if looking for some way to escape, and then he’d look back at Trish and Bella.
Their destination was a tiled room with a drain in the center. Trish stared at the drain, her terror swamping her, reaching levels she hadn’t known were possible, and tears started to slide down her face. When Jordan hung Alex up by his wrists, it was all Trish could do not to start sobbing. What would happen to them?
The big Viking was surprisingly gentle when he took Trish’s hands and lifted them above her head, making her feel a strange spurt of gratitude through her terror. Her fright and tears surged higher when, once her hands were secured above her head, heran his hands down her arms and sides and looked down at her with appreciation in his eyes.
When he moved away to string up Bella, as well, Trish was ashamed at her relief that he was now touching the other woman and not her.
Then he pulled a knife out of one of his many pockets and flipped it open with practiced ease, and Trish couldn’t contain herself anymore. She started bawling just as Alex began to shout. She was too frightened to even feel grateful for him demanding the Viking leave both BellaandTrish alone.
“Quiet!” Jordan shouted, his deep voice intimidatingly harsh. “You’re all perfectly safe. Understood?”
For some reason she felt like his words were directed at her, but it didn’t help. She couldn’t stop crying. She tried to, so hard, as he approached her, scared he would punish her because she couldn’t remain quiet. Instead, his hand brushed against her cheek, wiping away some of her tears with a gentleness that made her catch her breath.
“Quiet down, little one.”
It was a useless command because right after that he began cutting off her clothes with the knife and Trish’s tears started up again. She knew what was coming—what must be coming—and she just wanted to die. This was not how she thought she’d lose her virginity.
Even more humiliating, the large hands caressing her skin made her feel… well, not bad. And when his fingers brushed over the tuft of hair between her legs and dipped very slightly into her folds—the first time she’d ever had a man touch her there—she was wet.
Trish felt numb by the time she and the other two prisoners were led in front of the man known only as The Wolf.
Her eyes were swollen, and her throat ached from all the sobs she’d tried to stifle. Not that anything really all that bad had happened yet. Just a washing-down by Jordan and her shameful response to his hands on her body—something she still didn’t understand. But then, again, she didn’t have the experience to understand it.
