Page 3 of Brutally Mated
It doesn’t matter. The men aren’t listening to my name anyway. They’re too busy worrying about the fact that there’s only one of me and they were promised three. And, apparently, my age does not please them either.
“Eighteen,” the middle one says to the eldest.
“Young enough to be my own pup,” the eldest murmurs in a voice that does not suggest he thinks it is a good thing.
“I think she’s cute!” The young warrior close to my age beams at me.
I wish I could shrink in on myself and sink through the floor. I have never felt so completely inadequate before, and I grew up with a dozen sisters, so that is really saying something.
“We were told there would be mates for us all.”
“This is a mate for you all,” my father says. “To share.”
All four of us now look shocked and horrified.
“You will not find her an easy mate. She will require all of you to tame.”
I don’t know why he is saying this. I have never caused any trouble. I keep to myself, I read my mother’s books. I help cook during the day, and at night I roam a little.
“We’ll take her,” the youngest says.
“Since when do you speak for us?” the middle male retorts.
“We will take her,” the eldest intones, though not in a manner that suggests he is in any way pleased.
Krall
She’s tooyoung. She’s toosmall. Barely 5′4, if I had to guess. I can’t begin to imagine what kind of wolf form she has. It’s probably closer to a fox than a wolf.
I expected some differences in the quality of the mate we might find here. This pack is ancient, and has been cut off from the civilized world since before the civilized world began. Some say it is removed from reality itself, that creatures exist in these mountains that cannot exist anywhere else in the world. The lineage of wolves who live here can trace their ancestry back to the gods themselves. So we, like many others, have come in search of glory and of mates of the old blood.
The old alpha wants us to clear out his territory of horrors a bit in return for his daughter. I am yearning to see the creatures that hide in these craggy rises. My teeth will taste their flesh and I will end their hideous lives. To be given permission to hunt in this territory is no small matter, and we will not be given it if we do not take a mate from the pack.
I was prepared to take the deal offered, imagining that I would be partnered with someone more appropriate. I had imagined the females here would be larger, rougher, more obviously dangerous. What stands before us is little more than a morsel. She is cute, but this is no time for cuteness. We are in the business of breeding warriors. She is a princess, a poet.
She is looking at my brothers and me with wide, haunted eyes. Her terror at the prospect of being mated to us is palpable. It is a pity. If she were older, more confident, or if she had a choice in the matter she would be quite stunning.
You don’t see red hair that often. The girl’s mother must have been a beautiful creature, because our mate is gorgeous. She has an upturned nose, wide, bright eyes, and that hair that insists on curling rebelliously out of what should be a formal style.
She is wearing a green gown with gold edging. It’s very pretty. I haven’t seen a woman wearing a dress in a long time. I have notseen a woman of any kind, for that matter. My small unit and I have been at war for as long as I can remember. If I ever lived a life of peace, I have forgotten it entirely. Death, blood, and tragedy will erase normalcy forever, make it seem like a hollow, shambling thing, a facade clung to by those who do not have any idea of how deep the void of life truly goes.
I am not of the temperament or mood to entertain a mate who may as well be a child. Freshly turned eighteen, what experiences could life have given her? What could she know? She is innocence incarnate, and all I have to offer is brutal defilement.
“Good!” her father booms. “You will not regret this match, gentlemen. I know she may seem small, but she is powerful beyond your imagining. You will find her energies quite amusing to contend with, I am sure.”
He retreats to his dais and announces the beginning of the feast, which the assembled pack dive into without further preamble. We are forgotten in the rush for meat. Our mate is left with us, abandoned to our mercy.
“Are you brothers?” She asks the question quite sweetly, nervous of our appearance, no doubt. Aside from her father, we are larger than most of the pack, and still heavily armed. The way up into the mountains is fraught with danger, though we did it during the daylight and it is said that the nighttime is when one must worry.
“Yes, we are brothers,” I explain. “My name is Krall. This is Skor, my younger brother, and Thorn, the youngest of us. We have chosen to share you.”
“Yes,” she says. “I know. I was there.”
I feel my brow rising at what seems like could be an impertinent comment, though she doesn’t seem to be trying to be annoying. Perhaps she simply speaks plainly. Her father was certainly blunt enough in handing her over to us.
“Would you like to eat?” she extends the invitation. “We will need our strength for the night ahead.”
Thorn blushes. Skor snorts. I find myself once again wondering if she understands the implications of what she is saying, or if she just says what she is thinking.
