Prisoner E-Book

Arian Wulf

• Herausgeber: Boruma Publishing
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

Two days after the Shifter Registration Act passes, Layla is captured by fanatics who believe that the secret to longevity is in her Shifter veins. As the days pass, she begins to find odd solace in her mundane routine with her captors. Everything changes when an Alpha werewolf is thrown into her prison cell. The semi-feral man trapped with her is powerful, and he is not happy.

~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~

She is looking at him as though he is a stranger in her territory, as though they have not spent the last few days curled together, holding onto each other for warmth and comfort. She is looking at him as though he is prey, but she is smaller and weaker, even lost to her animal as she is.

It is easy to tackle her to the ground before she can lunge at him and turn her to her back. He takes hold of her chin and leans in to bite her jaw.

The sharp and sudden sting of nails and teeth jolts her into wakefulness and she breathes out a soft, "Oh," that is like music to his ears.

His touch, by now, is familiar and comfortable, and the pain helps pull her from the fragile part of her mind to something more solid. She's aware that he's saying something to her, even as he hurts her, the low vibration of his voice shuddering through her form through his teeth.

She presses into it, closing her eyes for just a moment as she thinks about letting go completely, just letting the animal take over because she's so tired of feeling anything. There seems to be only pain waiting for her in her wakefulness.

"Don't you dare give up," he growls.

The rough, possessive kiss he delivers to her lip tells her that giving up is a horrible idea that he wouldn't appreciate, so she keeps her mouth shut.

She gasps at the brutal bite to her bottom lip and another tug on her hair, pulling her head all the way back until she is baring her neck at him. The collar is stark against her skin, stopping him from marking her the way a shifter would mark his mate. He growls softly the whole time, the animal in her recognizing that he is an Alpha and growing fearful enough to hide.

His hand rests on her hips, wrapping easily around the sides of her body, caging her to him as his thumbs stroke over the thin skin just about the waist of her jeans where her shirt has ridden up.

"I can't get you out if you're not you, Layla," he warns.

Her mouth is open, breathing in short little pants, chest straining on whimpers that won't escape. She clutches blindly at his forearms, shuddering at just how perfectly firm they feel beneath her fingertips.

He slides in closer, so his front is pressed to her chest, and he braces himself with one arm while he reaches for her with the other, laying his hand flat over her sternum before moving it down her cleavage to the soft dip where her stomach is slightly concave. He drags his hand downwards until he finds the curve of her hips.

She closes her eyes, letting him explore her body with his firm hand. She knows what he's trying to do. Pleasure such as this is not something that the animal in her understands. He wants her, all of her, to resurface instead of hiding beneath the veneer of her beast. It is an underhanded, but effective way. She doesn't even try to pretend that it's not working.

He takes her lips to his, biting down hard enough to hurt, the ache fading into a burn that leaves her whimpering when he stops.

Her breath stutters at the feel of his fingers on her inner thighs. There is a heat growing in her core, spreading outwards and warming parts of her skin that has not known warmth for weeks. The clothes are in their way, stopping him from touching her skin to skin, but it's enough to make her lose her mind entirely.

Leseprobe

Alpha Submission 4

Prisoner

Arian Wulf

Copyright 2018 Arian Wulf

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental. All characters depicted in sexual acts in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older. No part in this book may be reproduced, transmitted, stored, or distributed without permission of the author or publisher.

Chapter 1: Shifter Registration Act

"I'm just saying, when it passes, it could be a good thing, you know?"

Layla bites the inside of her mouth to keep herself from reacting at her friend's offhanded comment. Before she can say a word, William interjects. "How so?" he asks, diplomatic as always.

"This way, it's fair," Sally insists, clutching the stem of her glass so tightly that Layla worries it would shatter in her hand. She is almost disappointed when she lets go of it before it does. The sparkling juice in the glass looks convincingly like an alcoholic drink, though Layla knows that Sally doesn't drink. "I think people have a right to know who's capable of killing a person with his bare hands."

"Anybody with the wrong intent can do that," Jackson reasons to nods all around.

"But you have you admit that shifters have an advantage there. I mean, we've all seen the statistics. Predator shifters are more likely to commit felonies."

Dedra shakes her head. "That's bias reporting. Crime stories involving shifters have more interest, so they are given more airtime. Regular humans are just as likely, of not more, to commit crimes."

"Yeah, but when a shifter does it, there's more damage and you need more police to handle them."

"How many law enforcement officers do you think are shifters?"

"I suppose most of them are."

"That's the thing though, we don't actually know," Cassandra says. "When the Act passes, we know what the shifters are hiding."

Layla does flinch this time. "What makes you think shifters have something to hide?"

Sally turns to her, distrust so heavy in her gaze that it takes all of her power to keep from looking away. "Are you a shifter, Layla?" she demands to know.

A few weeks ago, she would've been able to tell her that a question like that is incredibly inappropriate and she can refuse to answer. It is not a 'no', but it isn't a definite 'yes' either. Some humans answer in kind as well, making it impossible to tell who's a shifter and who isn't.

Now, she has to tell the truth. "I am," she says, tilting her head up because there is no shame in admitting what she is.

The murmurs start instantly around their table.  It's not that Layla has been deliberately keeping her animal a secret. It's just that in this day and age, it hardly matters what kind of shifter she is unless she is looking to mate. It's highly personal and doesn't really interfere with her responsibilities. She suddenly regrets going to dinner with her friends, though they're supposed to be celebrating their high school graduation, not talking about the Shifter Registration Act that's going to be put into effect soon.

She wonders if any of them would ask her to leave. More than that, she wonders if the other shifters would admit to their nature. She can tell, even from the way they move and eat, that some of her classmates aren't entirely human. Her nose is strong enough to pick up animal scents on most of them.

She's surprised when William follows with another question. "What animal do you shift into?"

Now, that question is something she really doesn't want to answer. She needs to get used to answering it anyways. The Shifter Registration Act is going to pass tonight, and after that, all the information regarding shifters is available to the public. Anyone who knows her name can just type it into the search engine and they would know instantly what she is.

She hides behind her drink and finds some liquid courage in it. "Tiger," she admits at length. Her kind is listed in the Shifter Protection Act as Critically Endangered.

They look stunned.

"Cool," Patrick says with an offhanded smile, like it's no big deal. "Have you shifted before?"

"I haven't shifted since I was a child," she confesses. "And it's not like I spend everyday wondering when I can turn into a Tiger and rob a bank," she says, trying to diffuse the tension in the air. Not all shifters can turn into their animal form, mostly because not all of them have tried. Society doesn't exactly shun shifters, but they aren't embraced either. It is easier to pretend that everybody's human.

That's impossible now.

Sally, to her surprise, is the one to ask, "Aren't you worried?"

She swallows the rest of her beer and nods. "A little," she says after a moment. It is hard not to be.

"Worried about what?" William asks.

"Shifters aren't rare," Sally begins, "but there are certain species that have... myths about them."

Layla is surprised she knows this much. She had assumed, when Sally brought up the subject earlier, that she is against shifters. Now, it seems as though Sally is just trying to test the waters and figure out people's thoughts on the matter. It is likely that she is a shifter as well, though she is probably prey, something small and safe.

"Weretigers have longer lifespans than any other shifter," she says. "Some people think that replacing their blood with the weretiger's can extend their lifespan."

"Does it work?" William looks all-too intrigued by this.

"It's illegal to try," Layla can't keep the testiness out of her tone, but then she sighs and nods. "Studies have shown that it works as well as transfusing a healthy shifter's blood to a sick human," she admits. "All shifters have enhanced healing. Weretiger blood is just marginally better. It's mostly because the animal is rare that people like to make all sorts of stories about them."

"Why should Layla be worried?" Dedra asks.

"Because fanatics take these believes to heart and apply it in real life," Sally says. "Are you going to get a tracking device, Layla?" she prompts. The concern in her eyes are genuine. It is one of the fear that comes with the Act being put in effect. Shifters are no longer able to hide as humans and may be targeted for illegal experimentation. Tracking devices linked to panic buttons on their devices would allow law enforcement to come to their aid instantly.

Layla shakes her head. "I considered it," she says at length. "But I'd feel too much like a pet if I get through with it," she admits. The thought of a tracking mechanism embedded under her skin feels like a violation. "And it makes me feel less safe knowing that's a device on my body that can be tracked. Anyone could hack into the government system and find me. This early in the testing period, it's safer not to have it."

They nod in agreement. It would feel stifling to be tracked any moment of the day.

She would come to regret that decision not two days later.

Chapter 2: Kidnapped

The morning can't be any more perfect if it was wrapped in a pink bow. She's on her way to scholarship review that she's pretty sure she's going to ace, as long as nobody there has any biases towards shifters. Being a rare shifter gives her an advantage though.

Following the implementation of the law, she has gained something of a celebrity status for the rarity of her animal, as has the other more beloved animal species, such as werewolves, werelions, and most of the cuddlier shifter animals. Must less notice is given to the more common shifters, like werecats, wererodents, and werebirds.

It is surprising to find her face in the center page of the local newspaper, together with the only other weretiger in the city. There is a list of the rarer animals with their pictures all printed right beside her designation. Weretiger - Layla Storm, F, 18-years-old. The fear of someone using that information to cause her harm didn't cross her mind until later, when she is in the bus on the way to a university interview when car rams into them from the side hard enough to jerk the vehicle sideways and screech to a halt.

Layla clutches the handle in front of her seat to keep from falling. A few passengers aren't so lucky, toppling into the aisle before they can get their bearings and climb back into their seats.

The emergency lights come on instantly as the engine fails. "Everybody stay in your seats," the bus drive announces, a little breathless, but otherwise uninjured. She thinks it might actually be safer if they were to exit the bus in case it's suffered any damage. She doesn't get the chance to voice her thoughts, however, because the moment he steps out of the bus, the driver of the car who rammed into them climbs out of his car and shoots the man with a tranquilizer gun.

There is a tense, panting moment in which everyone tries to process what they've just witness. And then the panic begins, loud screaming and panicking that makes her sensitive ears ring. The man flings a gas canister down the aisle and a smoky white gas spews out of the sides, making everyone scramble away from it. She tries to hold her breath, knowing whatever this is, it's not going to be good, she's being pushed into her seat by the panicking passengers trying to avoid the gas and in spite of all the adrenaline pumping in her veins, she feels oddly calm and relaxed.

She realizes what's happening instantly. "We have to get out!" she yells, clambering to the emergency roof hatch. Somebody wearing a mask grabs both her arms and yank them down to her sides. She's twisted around until she is facing a man wearing a black gas mask.

"This her?" asks one of the guys.

"Yeah," answers another, holding up what looks like a newspaper clipping of her. "Beautiful golden eyes. Can't believe you've managed to stay hidden for so long."

She doesn't even have time to panic before a rag is pushed against her nose. Her eyes widen, and she struggles for a moment, thinking she should really have gotten herself chipped like an animal in case something like this happens.

And then, she's not thinking of anything at all.

Chapter 3: Company

She wakes from her drug-induced sleep the same way one wakes from a nightmare, groggy and confused. For a long moment, she doesn't know where she is and waits for her brain to catch up to her reality and fill in the blanks.

Then, she remembers the bus and the two masked men and the chloroform and she really start to panic.

The room she is in is fully equipped with a sink and a toilet one corner, and a mattress bed in the other. It is dark except for the bit of light shining in from the slit in the metal door.

She tries to shift out of blind panic, but they've put a tight collar around her neck to keep her from doing exactly that. Her bones and muscles scream in protest when the collar refuses to budge even as she is shifting, and she's forced to keep herself human. She could risk hurting herself even more if she goes through the change into her animal form.

Trying to break the collar has only managed to bruise her own throat. She thinks it's metal encased in leather, a small mercy so that the metal does not bite against her skin all the time. There is a metal lock on it, and a ring where a leash could be attached. She feels a cold shiver of fear at the thought of being kept as a pet.

It is a cautionary story parents would say to their shifter children to keep them from straying too far, that if they are captured, they'll be forced into their animal forms and kept in a zoo.

Is that what's going to happen to her now?

It must be some sort of cosmic joke, for something like this to happen right after the Shifter Registration Act is passed. May she serve as the poster girl for why the Shifter Registration Act is a bad idea. She's probably going to be all over the news as the first casualty of the Act. Now that everyone knows what kind of animals they're hiding, they could figure out how to abuse that knowledge. Perhaps the councils would think twice about passing such a law in a future because of her.

Or maybe nobody is even looking for her at all. After all, other than her shifting ability, something that is entirely hereditary, there is nothing special about her at all. Her five seconds of fame might be over already.

She doesn't dwell on that thought for too long in case she gets lost in it. Instead, she stands and looks around for any possible escape point.

The walls, which she had thought to be plaster initially, are solid metal. Impregnable. She bloodies her knuckles trying to punch through it and broke more than a few nails clawing at it. The only thing she has to show for her efforts are the injuries to her hand. The place is built to keep shifters like her from escaping.

There are no exit or entry points safe for the metal door and it does not look as though it is going to be opening for her anytime soon. There's not even a handle for her to hold onto from inside. It's designed specifically to keep someone inside.

It is hours before she gives up, curling into herself on the mattress as she tries to convince herself that everything is going to be alright. Someone's going to find her. There aren't many weretigers in town. There's no way her disappearance isn't going to cause a ruckus.

...

When she's fetched from the room, it is by a man twice her size who expressionlessly grabs her by her upper arm and hauls her up the stairs into what looks to be an interrogation room with a bed in the middle of it. Her heart stops are her throat, fear clenching so tightly at her organs that she has to remind herself to breathe.

She considers fighting him but decides to put decisions until later, for when he's not digging a gun into her lower back and she knows where she is and how many people she's dealing with. Maybe figure out how to escape.

There is a man in the white room, dressed in a doctor's garb. He is taller than her and handsome in an exotic, dangerous way.

"Is this the tiger?" he asks, giving her a once-over, and then turning over to the man holding her captive. She considers taking them both down. If they can get in, then surely, she can find her way out with or without their help.

"Yes, Jon," the man says. "Got her from the bus."

She's terrified but determined to not let it show. She doesn't want to be one of those damsels in distress who's just waiting to be rescued. The idea of rescuing herself is nice. She clings to it.