Chapter 8

Zander

She made a run for it. I felt it the moment she left the perimeter of our yard, my beast yearned for her, the distance making him more and more irate. The chains rattled as I paced back and forth, burning a path on the floor, and yelling for William to let me go.

Not that I expected him to do so.

I"d spent weeks after we began chaining ourselves, begging him to let me go, and he struggled with it. He"d grown familiar with my cries for help over the years, but this time I really needed his help.

She was leaving. My mate was leaving me. The cry that ripped from me sounded like someone had taken my heart from my chest and squeezed it between their fingers.

A red haze of anger coated my gaze. Everything swirled in my mind like a tilt-a-whirl. My heartbeat pounded in my head, making it harder to focus. Fighting the beast in the middle of the night was the hardest. It was as if the moon made him stronger.

I shifted, briefly, enough to scream William"s name.

Moments ticked by, and the beast tore at the air and growled deeply into the quiet room. The silence rang harder than anything. The silence also felt like a virus eating at me. William"s shadow lingered from underneath the door, and I roared, hoping he felt the desperation.

Slowly, he pushed open the door, his light gaze met mine. I shoved against the barrier the beast held around us and screamed her name.

William seemed to understand, rushed from the doorway, his footsteps growing distant, and then coming near. "She"s gone," he said, bursting into the room.

The beast became quiet as William unlocked the cuffs, and freedom rang over me. He stepped out of the way, and let me out into the wild. He crouched to all fours, leaping from the banister of the second story to the first, and then through the door.

The night air soaked my skin with humidity; the wind shifting sent her scent into my nostril. Then she screamed. I"d always been able to run fast, but the beast tore through the brush and debris, all the way to the bayou.

Piper"s silhouette danced down the muddy bank of the bayou, and I smelled the alligator after her. He"d bitten her, I smelled the blood, and it made the beast angry.

I stalled in front of her. She looked equally relieved and scared all at once. She crouched in front of me, submissively, begging to be saved. The beast snatched the alligator by the tail, ripping him apart for the mere thought of eating what was his.

Moments later, I bent down, hauled her over my shoulder, and stalked back to the castle. Feeling her heartbeat against my back, I listened to the steady rhythm. It was hypnotic.

The moonlight guided me toward the front steps where William waited. He looked relieved that Piper was in one piece. He opened his arms to grab her, but the beast snarled.

William nodded, understandingly, and opened the front door for us. The beast was quiet for a change. Calm. I knew it was because she was in his arms. He never relaxed. Never.

I walked her to her room and sat her down on the bed. She looked wild, like a feral child. Her hair smashed against her face, and mud and grime covered her legs and ankles.

Her dress ripped, showcasing an impressive leg that I wanted to wrap around my waist. "Are you happy?" she asked, not showing any fear toward the beast.

It almost felt as if it warmed his heart.

Of course, he didn"t answer.

William cleared his throat from the doorway. "We didn"t want you to go get trapped in the bayou, Piper. We told you not to run."

She huffed, and leaned back on her palms, staring up at the beast with an angry look. "Right. Because I"m supposed to listen to the person that kidnapped me."

William sensed the beast growing angry, so he tugged us backward, and toward the door.

Piper glared daggers at me. "And I know you have neighbors now. It"s only a matter of time before I get away and get to them," she shouted down the hallway.

Neighbors? There wasn"t anyone within fifteen miles of this place. She must have imagined someone in the woods.

I didn"t get a chance to ask, William closed my door, and I was shackled within two seconds. "He seems calm around her," William whispered. "That"s good."

Was it good? It only made him want to come out more often. Sitting down, I rested my head against the wall and closed my eyes.

William stalled by the door, a frown formed on his face. "I"m wondering who she saw in the bayou."

I wondered the same thing, but something told me it was her imagination.

William shut the door behind him, and the beast thrusts against that barrier, dragging me deeper into the despair around me.

The rattling of the curtain sliding over the rail woke me the next morning. I expected to see Vivian, but William stared at me when I opened my eyes. The tenderness of my muscles ached when I stood, and rubbed each wrist.

"What time is it?"

"Ten. You slept longer today. I"m glad, you needed it."

"Where is she?" I asked, grabbing some clothes from my chest of drawers.

"In the library. We already had breakfast. She cooked."

I stalled, glancing over my shoulder at William"s stoic form. "You made my mate cook for you?"

He rolled his eyes dramatically and shifted his weight. "She insisted."

The jealous side of me was pissed she cooked for my brother. "She left you a plate in the microwave," he said. "What do you want for lunch? I"ll go pick something up."

I shrugged. "Surprise me."

William left me to my self-pity. I took a shower, reliving the memories of the night before. It wasn"t as if I expected her not to run, but it stabbed me deep in the chest that she had.

I knew William was right. I needed to try harder, put aside my dominance, my pride, and make her love me.

But that was harder than it looked.

With my hair still wet from my shower, I waltzed down the staircase, and toward the library. My stomach growled for food, but I needed to see she was still there.

Her scent wafted as I opened the library doors. She sat on one of the lounge chairs, a book opened, her gaze only shifted toward mine when I shut the door behind me.

"Good morning," I said.

She didn"t greet me. She continued reading, her slender legs tucked underneath her, and her hair piled in an updo on top of her head. My fingers twitched at the thought of untying it and tangling my fingers into the length.

"It"s rude to ignore someone"s greeting, Ms. Sloane. But I'm sure you know that," I said, walking carefully around the room, studying her.

The book she held in her hand looked like a romance that my mother read when I was small. She didn"t move when my shadow fell over her but jumped up when I snagged the book from her grasp. "Hey!" she shouted, jumping to reach it above my head.

I turned my back toward her and smiled at the page. "Reading smut, just as I thought," I said, lowering it so she could cradle it to her chest.

"It"s not smut. It"s romance," she said, closing the book. "Not that I expect you to understand romance."

I turned my gaze toward the top of her dress, and the deep dip displaying her chest. "You"re wrong," I said. "I know plenty about it. If you"d give in, let me show you what you"ve been dying for, you wouldn"t regret it. I know you read those books because your ex couldn't fulfill you."

A blush crept up her neck. "You don"t know that," she spat. "You don"t know anything but sex. There is a difference."

I grinned. "I"d be glad to show you."

"I bet," she said with a snarky smile. "Too bad it"ll never happen. Even if I"m here until the day I die, I won"t sleep with you."

"Whatever you say," I said, sitting down on the lounge across from her.

Her hazel gaze flickered over to mine. "Why are you in here?"

"Boredom and I own this house. Take your pick," I admitted, which was a half-lie.

"Right. Well," she said, closing her book again. "You can be bored by yourself." She walked toward the door, and panic set in. Jumping up, I shut the door as she opened it, my arm rested above her head, her small body tucked in front of mine.

"Don"t leave," I whispered lightly. "I do enjoy our banter."

She stayed still, her chest rising and falling faster. "This isn"t banter. It"s hate."

"What"s that saying?" I asked softly, watching the hair on her neck stand up from my breath against her. "There is a thin line between love and hate?"

She shook her head slowly. "There is no love in this relationship, Zander. This is pure hate."

I chuckled. "You"re wrong. I know you feel it. I see it in the depths of your eyes when you think I"m not looking."

She stiffened and slowly turned to look up at me. Being so close, in my human form, twisted my stomach into knots. Her soft breaths settled against my mouth. "I don"t want you, Zander. I don"t believe in this wolfy mate bond or the reasons you have me here. I"d rather be with my cheating ex than—,"

Quickly, my fingers sank into the hair at the nape of her neck, and I angled her mouth toward mine. The lust flickered over her face so quickly I would have missed it if I blinked.

I didn"t dare.

"I admire your strength, Ms. Sloane, but you"re a shitty liar. I see it," I said, stepping closer, pinning her against the door. "You want me to put you out of your misery. Kiss you. Touch you." I ran my nose against the length of her neck, and her arousal swirled around me. "But I won"t," I said, stopping my tease, and stepping back. "Until you ask for it."

I loosened my fingers on her hair. Her eyes were wild, like the night before, her adrenaline coursing roughly through her body. "Don"t hold your breath," she spat.

I smiled, loving that she hadn"t moved. I imagined her legs felt like rubber, a lot like the feeling inside of me at the moment. A mate couldn't resist their other half for long.

It was just a matter of time.

"I"m getting out of here," she whispered. "I saw that boy—,"

My body stilled. "What boy?"

She swallowed and narrowed her gaze. "Don"t play coy," she said. "I saw the little boy in the bayou. He watched us. He knows I"m here. He"ll send for help—,"

My ears stopped working. A little boy wasn"t what I expected her to see in the bayou. "What did he look like?" I asked, cutting her off.

She shifted, and crossed her arms over her chest, drawing her breast higher to her chin. "African American. Young. War paint, almost—,"

Sickness formed in my throat. I closed my eyes, and carefully moved her out of the way, heading down the hallway toward William"s room.

This wasn"t good.

Not at all.