N. Walters - Finding Chrissten

Chrissten Lawton stared up at the twelve-inch crack that ran across the ceiling. The light flickered, adding no warmth to the barren space. The hum of the florescent bulb no longer annoyed her, and the perpetual cold had become a part of her.

Eighteen months and twenty-nine days. That’s how long it had been since the day her life had changed forever, since she’d been kidnapped.

She didn’t have to look around to be able to describe her surroundings. She’d catalogued them all within hours of her arrival, searching for any weakness, any vulnerability she could exploit. So far, she hadn’t found any.

The walls were thick concrete, the beige paint chipped and worn. The door was heavy and had two locks. Not that it mattered. She was too weak to do any real damage to it. There was no window.

There were never any windows.

Musty, damp air and perpetual gloom were her constant companions. She’d been a prisoner for so long she’d all but forgotten the feel of the sun on her face, the caress of the wind in her hair.

She’d been moved several times since Dr. Philip Morton had drugged and captured her, but this place was the worst she’d been held in so far. There was no bed. No bathroom either. Only a toilet and sink in the far corner of the room and they were far from clean. She had two blankets, but they weren’t enough to keep the cold and damp from seeping into her body from the concrete floor. She couldn’t even change into her werewolf form in order to keep warm. She was too weak from a combination of starvation, blood loss from all the Dr. Morton’s testing and being battered from her latest fight with Brian.

Brian. Just the thought of his name made her shiver. He was six-four and two hundred and thirty pounds. All of it muscle. He was a pureblooded werewolf and he was absolutely crazy. He thought he was her mate. And, technically speaking, he was. He’d taken her when she was in heat, claiming her in the way of their people, marking her with his scent.

Their people .

Bitterness coated her tongue. She hadn’t known much about her half-breed werewolf heritage, other than what she and her two brothers had discovered over the years. And nothing they’d learned had included lessons on the female biology. She hadn’t realized she’d been going into heat when she’d been captured. That, in fact, it was her unique scent that had caught Brian’s attention. He’d captured her and taken her to the doctor.

Going into heat . She hated the very idea of such a thing. It had weakened her, made her vulnerable. Her body had no longer been her own. Sexual cravings had all but suffocated her, taking her over until she no longer knew herself. She’d barely been attracted to men before the heat had taken her. Once it was upon her, all she could think about was having a man inside her.

The doctor had explained it all in clinical terms. It was simply biology, nature’s way of ensuring the continuation of the species. Going into heat was a sign that a female was ready to mate and would accept a male.

To Chrissten, it had been a living hell. Her skin had been almost too sensitive to touch. Her breasts swollen and tender. Her pussy hot and wet. And the gnawing ache inside her had been unbearable.

She’d been so scared. Alone in her prison, she’d paced and cried and yelled in rage. In the end, nothing she’d done had helped to ease the heat and pain of the sexual desire coursing through her body. Brian had come to her then. The arrogant ass had assumed she’d roll over on her hands and knees and accept him.

She’d fought.

She’d fought until her body was bloody and she’d been too weak to resist any longer. Brian had used his greater strength to take her. The worst part was by the end of it she hadn’t wanted to fight. All she’d wanted was relief from the days of torment. The feel of his thick cock inside her had stilled the longing and eased the sexual cravings. Brian had used that against her, taking her again and again for hours on end. Afterward, he’d tried to shame her, tried to break her confidence, telling her she was weak for giving in to him.

Biology. It was nothing more than biology. She hadn’t wanted him, not in her mind, but Mother Nature was a bitch and wanted the population of the species to increase.

Brian had marked her as his. She could smell his scent on her skin no matter how many times she washed. They weren’t married in a traditional sense. But in werewolf culture they were mated. It didn’t matter that she hated him, didn’t want him on any level. Because she’d been weakened that first time by starvation, hormones and beatings, he’d been able to join with her in the mating ritual of the werewolf species. It had enabled him to mark her as his. The only way out for either of them was death.

She bared her teeth and snarled. She was more than ready for a quick divorce.

She refused to think of herself as mated to him and fought him at every turn. Brian might think he was entitled to her body because they were mated. To Chrissten it was rape.

The mating had released her inner wolf, allowing her to shift for the first time in her life. That was another difference in the male/female biology. Males shifted naturally in their early twenties when they reached maturity. Females needed to mate for their wolf to be released. Totally unfair, but that was life.

The experience had been painful—due to her injuries—exhilarating and scary as all get out. But it had strengthened her as well, enhancing all her skills. It had allowed her to keep fighting these long months. But now she was no longer strong enough to call on her wolf.

The only bright spot in her whole ordeal so far was the fact she hadn’t ended up pregnant, for which she was profoundly grateful. She couldn’t begin to imagine what Doctor Morton would do with a baby if he had one to experiment on. The man had no scruples.

Dr. Philip Morton was crazy. He was trying to discover how half-breeds differed from humans and pureblooded werewolves. Half-breeds were the product of a mating between a pureblood werewolf and a human that resulted in a child. And they were very rare.

He worked tirelessly to isolate the genes that made them what they were. He was obsessed with discovering where they got their preternatural senses, their ability to shift, their strength and their long lifespan. He wanted it all for himself.

In return for Brian’s help acquiring test subjects, the doctor had promised to help create more female werewolves if he was able to uncover the genetic secret. Chris knew females were in short supply in the werewolf population. From everything she’d learned about the species, most purebloods wanted nothing to do with half-breeds, would rather kill them than mate with them. On the other hand, some of them thought any mate was better than none. Brian was the liaison for a small pack of pureblooded males who all wanted mates and didn’t care how they got them. Chrissten had only seen Brian, but she’d smelled several other males from time to time.

The sound of footsteps echoing in the distance pulled her from her dark memories. Her heart raced and sweat dotted her flesh. She dragged herself up into a seated position, tugging her blankets around her like a shield. Even that was difficult. Her body was giving out. Too much stress and not enough nourishment had weakened her. She wasn’t healing as fast as she used to. Bruises still covered her body from her last fight with Brian and that had been several days ago. By now she should be fully recovered.