S. Yule: Lycan It

“No!” He couldn’t allow anyone to touch her. He’d never forgive himself. But, he knew he’d never be able to rape her. He’d have to buy them both some time, and hopefully, he’d figure a way to get them out of this mess.

“Does this mean you’ve had a change of heart?” Damon waited for Raze’s answer.

“I will do it, but only in here.” He knew he’d have a bit of an advantage in the cave. Not everything would be as easily visible inside, and a plan was forming in his head.

“Makes no difference to me. There will still be plenty of a show to see from out here.” Damon motioned to the two lycans holding the woman.

“Take her to him.”

She struggled, kicked, and pleaded the whole time she was being dragged to the cave. Raze ached to be able to tell her everything would be okay. He’d make sure she was not hurt. It was his duty to protect her with his life.

Unfortunately, at this particular moment in time, that meant doing whatever he had to do to keep her safe, even if it meant scaring her.

“Please! Let me go. I haven’t done anything to anyone. Just let me go home.” Janine had never been so scared in her entire life.

She hadn’t thought being kidnapped could get any worse. She’d been wrong. She had at least thought she’d have a chance at getting away from her captor until she’d seen where he’d been dragging her to. There were at least twenty-five men standing around the biggest fire she’d ever seen. They were all big, scary and feral-looking. They painted a picture of what she might have imagined Vikings, or even cavemen, to look and live like. They were raw, primitive, and she hadn’t a hope in hell of escaping.

A strange scent curled through her nose, which she could only describe as wildness. From what she had gained from her captor’s speech, she was about to be used as a means of punishment, which was kind of ironic since she was the one who was obviously going to suffer the most. All the talk about packs and leaders had thrown her a bit, but she narrowed it down to assuming they must be some type of cult.

Tears welled in her eyes, and hopelessness beat through her with wings of terror. She was never going to get out of this alive. She was in the middle of nowhere with scraggily men who obviously had no respect for life, or at least not for hers.

At the mouth of the cave, she was shoved toward the man inside with such force, she landed on her knees on the hard packed dirt floor in front of him.

She gasped when she looked into gray eyes that eerily glowed back at her from the dimly lit cave. He was crouching, and remained as still as a rock.

Not one muscle twitched. Not one blink of his lids betrayed his statue like pose. One of those funny images came to mind of a homeowner walking in on a burglar who freezes. The unsuspecting homeowner walks by the robber several times, getting a beer from the fridge, grabbing a newspaper from the table, and never so much as glances at the intruder before retiring to another room. This man in front of her was capable of pulling off such a feat in real life.

Suddenly, he lurched forward, and she fell back hard on her backside, thankful for the first time in her life that she had a bit of extra cushion there to soften the fall. She propped her weight on her elbows and watched him as he crawled over her on his hands and knees, only stopping when his face came within a few inches of her own.

That was when she noticed the metal collar around his throat with the chain leading from it to the wall behind him. If she’d come across him in another time or place, she’d no doubt she’d find him attractive. His golden-blond hair was cropped closely to his head with a bit of length and spike to the top. His cheeks were lean and tapered down to a square jaw with several days’ of beard. Facial hair had always been a turn off for her, but on him, it worked. The hairs matched the golden color on his head, and complemented his full lips. His nose was straight and narrow.

If she had to guess, she’d say he was over six feet, but it was hard to tell with him practically lying on top of her. The only thing he appeared to have on was a pair of jeans, and his wide, bare chest accented shoulders that were close to twice the width of her own. Power practically emanated from him, and she gulped.

“Are you going to hurt me?” Janine wasn’t even sure she wanted to know the answer to that question, but felt compelled to ask anyways.

He put his mouth close to her ear and whispered so low she almost couldn’t hear his words. “I know you have no reason to trust me, but I’m in the same situation as you. We are both prisoners. If I do not do what they say, they will kill you.”

“You are going to rape me?” Tears swelled in her eyes and spilled over her cheeks.

He closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed hard before answering.

“We only have to put on a good show for them.” His eyes burned into her.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?”

She nodded. Was he really a good guy or was it all just an act? At this point in time, did it really matter?

“I can’t fake some things, and I’m apologizing up front, but I’m going to have to kiss you, and touch you a bit.” His intense stare never wavered from her face.

She panicked and tried to scramble out from under him, but his hand clamped around her arm and adequately halted her try for escape.

“Listen to me!” he whispered through clenched teeth.

She stared down at the dirty floor, and he cupped her face and forced her to look him in the eyes. “I swear to you, I am not going to rape you, but we have to make this look and sound realistic or they will kill you. I am going to act the part, but I will not take this to its expected outcome.”

She didn’t know why, but at that moment, she believed him. Maybe she chose to because she couldn’t handle any other possibility. Maybe it was a terrified grasp at hope that she would be okay. Whatever it was, she would play along if it meant there was a chance of her coming out of this alive.

“Okay.” She quietly agreed, hoping she hadn’t just sold her soul to the Devil.

“Get on with it!” one member of the pack yelled out, and other jeers shortly followed.

Raze looked down at the woman. “What’s your name?”

“Ja-Janine,” she whispered.

His heart hammered. She was absolutely gorgeous. His body had already hardened, ready to claim his fated mate. He wouldn’t allow that, though. Not tonight, and not like this. When he took her, it wouldn’t be in front of an audience, and he’d love her like she deserved . . . long, slow and thoroughly.

The pale blue of her eyes sparkled with fear, and if he thought he’d wanted to kill Damon before, those wants paled to the need to do so now.

“Mine’s Raze. Are you ready?”

She nodded.

“I’m sorry if I get a little rough with you, but I promise I will do as little as I have to do to please the assholes out there.” He nodded toward the opening of the cave.

“Okay. Let’s just get this over with.” She squeezed her eyes shut.

Those were so not the words he’d ever wanted to hear from his mate. He took a deep breath and yanked her shirt over her head, and took her mouth before she had time to scream. Her lips tasted of honey and sugar, and he groaned, trying hard not to thrust his tongue inside for a better taste. He promised he’d only do what he had to, and shoving his tongue in her mouth was not something necessary for this show.

She sobbed into his mouth, and his gut clenched. There was no other choice, no other hope of saving her but to do this and he continued on, fighting the urge to take her. The rage for Damon boiling inside him was nearly his undoing, but he hung on to his control by a shred.