Page 27 of Collared Mate

“Rick asked me here to talk about business of some kind,” I say. “Do you want to do that, or do you want me to punch you in the face?”

The question is a little bit of a misdirect because I am absolutely going to punch him in the face for speaking that way about my mother. How dare he say the word mated to me, as if he has the right to refer to sex as if I’m some female in his pack. I outrank him, and he seems to have forgotten that. Looks like I won’t be the only Swale sibling starting a fist fight today.

Before I can assault him, he drops the pen and instead taps on the keyboard and turns the computer screen toward me.

I see myself on the camera, and I know instantly what this is about. Has Rick sent me here to be told off? Is that what this is? Some facsimile of being sent to the old principal’s office? For fuck’s sake.

Whatever it is, obviously Kyle has footage of some of my recent outings. It’s surprisingly clear, actually. The cameras I didn’t even notice must have zoomed in on my face in the brief moments I had in between being myself and becoming a murderous she-wolf. There’s images from the last kill, and a couple of the ones before.

“We really do live in a surveillance state,” I say casually. I’m not scared that he knows these things. I don’t think he’s going to turn the footage over to law enforcement. He has it, so I have to assume they do not.

“You’ve been exposing the pack,” he says. “And you’ve been killing innocent men.”

“I’ve never killed a single innocent man,” I reply. “You can take that to the bank.”

He presses his lips into a thin line and speaks to me in a very unimpressed tone. “I’m afraid you have become a liability of a kind the pack cannot stand. This footage is private to us at the moment, but we cannot keep covering for you. Sooner or later you are going to spark a scandal that none of us will ever recover from.”

“Okay, and? You want me to get married? I’m not going to do it.”

“I’m not giving you a choice,” he says.

“You have to,” I say. “That’s how marriage works. I’m not a naïve little eighteen-year-old anymore.”

“You’re not. But you’re still very young and breedable, and with a firm hand I am sure you will settle well into domestic life.”

The way he says breedable makes me want to hurl. Everything about this man is disgustingly calculated and completely cold.

“What are you trying to tell me?”

“I’m telling you that your things have been packed, and a car will take you to the airport. You are going to be transported to Siberia, where you will become the mate of Vladimir Royksop.”

I look into his milky bland brown eyes and I see nothing there but the assumption that I will comply, crazy as that is. He has seen what I am capable of. Wild that he would even for a moment assume I would go along with this.

“Alright,” I say. “I need some time to notify my friends, and…”

“No time, I am afraid. Your new husband is eager to meet you, and the citizens of this city are eager to no longer be your prey. This will be good for you, Fiona. In time, you will see that this moment represented the beginning of your true life.”

“Ah,” I say.

The door behind me opens and three large shifters walk in. They’re not from our pack, or if they are, they’re new. I haven’t exactly been in social circulation among the rank and file.

“Come with us, please, ma’am.”

It’s a pity what I’m going to have to do to these men. They look like nice boys, if a little too clean cut and ready to follow orders for my liking.

I know I can’t let them take me to a second location. I have to fight hard now to escape.

“I need a moment,” I say. “I think I’m feeling a little faint.” Kyle has a big leather couch that my father used to own sitting along one wall of his office. I sink into it with a swooning motion that makes the three men stand back.

“I might have some smelling salts,” I say. “Or a pill. Yes. A little pill…”

I reach into my purse and try to find my phone to call for help, but it’s not there. Rick must have taken it to stop me being able to call anyone for help. Asshole.

“We have to go,” the leader of my kidnappers says. He’s about thirty, maybe. Sandy hair. Green eyes. I look him in the face because I’m trying to memorize it. Later, when I’m free, these men are going to discover what my vengeance feels like.

“I can’t. I’m so sorry. When I get like this, my legs will hardly carry me,” I lie. It’s easier to act like a weak, helpless lady in a pretty dress right now, even though my fight and flight instincts are activated. If I can get them to take me to a doctor, I can probably escape this whole situation without too much in the way of hassle.

“Pick her up,” Kyle says. “We have a plane waiting, and a deadline to meet.”