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Authors: Kodilynn Calhoun
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hulking man
with a shaved head and cold blue eyes. He doesn’t bother to wear a
mask to conceal his true form, so the left side of his face is open
cybernetics.
His metal hand fists a handful of my scruff
and he lifts me up off the ground with insane force, holding me at
eye level. “I thought I’d broken you of this. We aren’t house pets,
Iofiel. We’re to be feared, not adored. Not loved. I’m sorry if your brain is wired backwards to the point where you think a
single human girl will give you any sort of companionship.
I. Will. Not. Tolerate. It.” His voice is a baritone rumble.
He drops me to the ground and I scramble to
my paws, staring up at him. I half expect his leg to swing back,
his boot to bust my ribs. His fists are clenched at his sides, but
no blow comes. I let out a breath and he growls one word: “Shift.”
So I do. Running away will only mark me a coward to the Pack.
“Come with me.” I hate the disappointment
that laces his voice—it makes me feel like a Very Bad Dog, even
when I’m not a dog at all. I stuff my hands into my pockets and
hurry after him, the moon hanging low in the sky, nearly full and
gleaming against the shining towers of the city. I know where we’re
going. My stomach bottoms out as we come upon a little shack in the
middle of the woods, gooseflesh lining my arms.
The door’s unlocked. It’s always unlocked. I
feel bad for any human that stumbles upon this place. Lylan swings
it open with a creak and I hesitate in the doorway. I open my
mouth, maybe to plead with him, fear lighting up my heart, but no
sound comes out. He grips my arm and drags me through, slamming the
door behind us.
There’s a click and the dark room is bathed
in brilliant fluorescents. The lights showcase a sterile white room
with no windows. In the center of the room is a metal exam table
with cuffs for your wrists and ankles and the floor is made of
grating, to drain the blood that falls off the edges of the
table.
I’ve seen what happens to traitors to the
dark Fae, handed over to the cyberhounds to do their bidding. A
shiver winds down my spine, sickly and terrifying, and I glance to
Lylan.
His face is set in a scowl. “It would be easy
to turn you over to the Unseelie, Iofiel. All it takes is one word,
the press of a communicator button, and you’ll be at their
mercy.”
I’d like to think he wouldn’t, that the stern
Alpha would care for his Pack. We’re a brotherhood, we’re a
family…but Lylan won’t hesitate to weed out traitors, spies, and
weaklings. I set my jaw, grinding my teeth until they ache. I can’t
stop staring at the table, imagining slices in my skin from a whip,
blood seeping up from the wounds.
“I know,” I whisper.
“You’re my Pack, Iofiel.” His face softens
into features that maybe, in a different life, I’d find fatherly.
“But I won’t tolerate misbehavior. We have a purpose in this life
and it doesn’t involve fraternizing with humans. I know you have a
weakness for pretty girls, but pup, I swear to the Fae, if you
don’t screw your head on straight, you’ll regret it.”
I nod, my throat closing as he points to the
table.
“Hop up.”
“Lylan…”
He pins a hard glare on me and I swallow down
my nerves, hoisting myself up on the table. The metal is cold and
unforgiving under my sweaty palms. My heart hitches as he turns to
me, a long syringe gun grasped in his human hand. The needle gleams
maliciously. “Hold still, pup,” he says and I grip the edges of the
table to keep from bolting.
This is a part of life, I chide
myself. Whatever punishment he deems necessary, I
deserve.
I press my eyes shut anyway.
I feel the tip of the needle pierce my neck.
Lylan depresses the trigger. It jerks and there’s a thunk and a
flare of pain, but it’s minimal. I’d expected worse. Relief flows
through me and he backs up a step. I move to get down off the table
when I see him palm something.
Pain shrieks through me, a banshee’s cry,
sizzling
with a shaved head and cold blue eyes. He doesn’t bother to wear a
mask to conceal his true form, so the left side of his face is open
cybernetics.
His metal hand fists a handful of my scruff
and he lifts me up off the ground with insane force, holding me at
eye level. “I thought I’d broken you of this. We aren’t house pets,
Iofiel. We’re to be feared, not adored. Not loved. I’m sorry if your brain is wired backwards to the point where you think a
single human girl will give you any sort of companionship.
I. Will. Not. Tolerate. It.” His voice is a baritone rumble.
He drops me to the ground and I scramble to
my paws, staring up at him. I half expect his leg to swing back,
his boot to bust my ribs. His fists are clenched at his sides, but
no blow comes. I let out a breath and he growls one word: “Shift.”
So I do. Running away will only mark me a coward to the Pack.
“Come with me.” I hate the disappointment
that laces his voice—it makes me feel like a Very Bad Dog, even
when I’m not a dog at all. I stuff my hands into my pockets and
hurry after him, the moon hanging low in the sky, nearly full and
gleaming against the shining towers of the city. I know where we’re
going. My stomach bottoms out as we come upon a little shack in the
middle of the woods, gooseflesh lining my arms.
The door’s unlocked. It’s always unlocked. I
feel bad for any human that stumbles upon this place. Lylan swings
it open with a creak and I hesitate in the doorway. I open my
mouth, maybe to plead with him, fear lighting up my heart, but no
sound comes out. He grips my arm and drags me through, slamming the
door behind us.
There’s a click and the dark room is bathed
in brilliant fluorescents. The lights showcase a sterile white room
with no windows. In the center of the room is a metal exam table
with cuffs for your wrists and ankles and the floor is made of
grating, to drain the blood that falls off the edges of the
table.
I’ve seen what happens to traitors to the
dark Fae, handed over to the cyberhounds to do their bidding. A
shiver winds down my spine, sickly and terrifying, and I glance to
Lylan.
His face is set in a scowl. “It would be easy
to turn you over to the Unseelie, Iofiel. All it takes is one word,
the press of a communicator button, and you’ll be at their
mercy.”
I’d like to think he wouldn’t, that the stern
Alpha would care for his Pack. We’re a brotherhood, we’re a
family…but Lylan won’t hesitate to weed out traitors, spies, and
weaklings. I set my jaw, grinding my teeth until they ache. I can’t
stop staring at the table, imagining slices in my skin from a whip,
blood seeping up from the wounds.
“I know,” I whisper.
“You’re my Pack, Iofiel.” His face softens
into features that maybe, in a different life, I’d find fatherly.
“But I won’t tolerate misbehavior. We have a purpose in this life
and it doesn’t involve fraternizing with humans. I know you have a
weakness for pretty girls, but pup, I swear to the Fae, if you
don’t screw your head on straight, you’ll regret it.”
I nod, my throat closing as he points to the
table.
“Hop up.”
“Lylan…”
He pins a hard glare on me and I swallow down
my nerves, hoisting myself up on the table. The metal is cold and
unforgiving under my sweaty palms. My heart hitches as he turns to
me, a long syringe gun grasped in his human hand. The needle gleams
maliciously. “Hold still, pup,” he says and I grip the edges of the
table to keep from bolting.
This is a part of life, I chide
myself. Whatever punishment he deems necessary, I
deserve.
I press my eyes shut anyway.
I feel the tip of the needle pierce my neck.
Lylan depresses the trigger. It jerks and there’s a thunk and a
flare of pain, but it’s minimal. I’d expected worse. Relief flows
through me and he backs up a step. I move to get down off the table
when I see him palm something.
Pain shrieks through me, a banshee’s cry,
sizzling
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