Read Online Alpha Pack 1.5 - Black Magic by J. D. Tyler - Free Book Online

strokes, his wolf clawing desperately to be free. To rip Orson
    Chappell’s minions to shreds, starting with the bastard currently wielding the whip, and then moving on to Beryl, his malicious
    bitch of a stepsister. The pair of them were an open sore on the world’s ass. He’d take great pleasure in tearing out their throats, but not before making them scream as they’d done to him. And then he’d track down the big boss himself. Drag him
    from under the rock where he was hiding, and butcher him, too.
    Slowly. Painfully, so that the fucker squealed like a piglet as Aric’s wolf devoured him alive.
    Here, Piggy, Piggy, let me in!
    Not by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin!
    No problem, asshole. I’ll just incinerate your door, come right in and watch you piss your pants as I unleash my beast—
    Another blow fell, shattering the inner dialogue as liquid agony scored him from shoulder to hip.
    “Ahhh! Fuck . . . fuck this . . . b-bastards . . .”
    With every stroke, it became harder to retain his hold on sanity. Beryl’s efforts were beginning to pay off. After weeks of
    this hellish trip into Psycholand, the unbelievable pain, he was close to the breaking point.
    He never dreamed there were so many methods of brutal torture. Or that he’d be forced to sample every fuckin’ one of them.
    He wasn’t aware the whipping had stopped until a hand cupped his chin and thrust his head up. Beryl’s flat, soulless eyes
    bored into his, searching for weakness, for the knowledge that brother dearest was finally a broken husk. A gibbering pile of
    shit.
    “Sorry to disappoint, bitch,” he whispered, his throat raw and aching. “I’m still in here.” His mind might not be gone just
    yet, but screaming had stripped his voice during a session with Beryl’s handy silver knife. If he should get out of here, he might
    never recover, in more ways than one.
    “Good. I’d be terribly put out if you gave up too quickly.” One corner of her mouth curved up. “As it is, you amuse me. So
    tenacious, my fierce brother.”
    Her touch made his skin crawl, but he didn’t have the strength to jerk his chin out of her grasp. Even if she did set him free,
    he had nothing left. Despite his longing for vengeance, he didn’t have the strength to let loose his raging wolf, let alone summon
    his gifts of fire or telekinesis. Pathetic.
    “I’m surprised Chappell lets you play with his test subjects,” he taunted.
    A flash of something that might’ve been unease interrupted the deadness in her eyes, then was gone. “That isn’t your
    concern.”
    He huffed a laugh that was more like a strangled rasp. “He doesn’t know.” This kept getting better.
    “What?” There. Again the flicker of alarm.
    Despite the pain assailing his battered body, he sneered. “Chappell doesn’t know what you’re doing to me down here,
    screwing with one of his lab rats. Wonder what he’d do to his pet witch if he found out?”
    Flicking a lock of long, auburn hair over her shoulder that was a shade darker than his own, she affected a look of complete
    disinterest. “He has more important concerns than one shifter.”
    “I’ll just bet.”
    “Whether you’re here or in the lab doesn’t make a difference to you anyway.” Giving his face a hard squeeze, she shoved,
    snapping his head to the side. “You’ll be just as dead when I’m done with you.”
    He didn’t bother to answer. He knew his chances of escaping from either place dimmed with each day. Spinning on her heel,
    she turned and left, the gloom beyond his small patch of light swallowing her form and the click of her boots until he was once
    again alone with his grim thoughts.
    How was Beryl involved in all of this? And why the special torture reserved for the older stepbrother she’d barely bothered
    to know, and vice versa? Why the all-consuming hatred?
    True, she’d always been a self-absorbed bitch. From the day Aric’s mother had remarried and his stepdaddy had brought
    that