Taken (Sinful Series - book 1)
Chapter 2 - Taken

She didn’t need the flashlight to show her the gory of the pack’s ways. No, she needed the cool artificial light to inspect the rogue before he had the chance to evaluate her. For once in her life, she had to be in control, to dominate the situation, and to dictate the rules of engagement.

The deranged rogue, supposedly responsible for the death of a half dozen of fellow enforcers, was nothing short of a disappointment. It again proved how misleading was any information distributed in the pack. He was in no condition to stand up on his own, much less fight or evade capture. She could only hope he had something or someone to live for, or they were both good as dead.

As her eyes followed the luminescent light, her heart began pummeling faster as different thoughts raced in her head. He once had an impressive built, evident by his large, yet bony frame. The constant silver exposure had significantly weakened him. His hands were still bound over his head by silver infused ropes. Chains laced with silver were expensive, and Violet was not surprised his hands were bound over his head by silver infused ropes. In his state going old school was just as effective in keeping him restrained. He was caged and tortured to the brink of being broken, yet he had managed to stay lucid enough to stare her down, despite his failing body. Although there was still some fight left in him, Violet could only hope that the truth about his situation would be enough to rattle him and help them with their escape.

His cold eyes cautiously followed her approach even if he could only see her silhouette as Violet purposefully kept the light on his face. The bruises which were partially closing his eyes further compromised his vision. But that did not deter him. Those pools of melted lava kept on scanning the room, anticipating a threat. Violet decided he might not be as far gone as he led on.

“Good, you’re awake,” she stated the obvious, kneed in front of him but far away from where he could not hit her. “I’m Violet, what’s your name?”

“They must be more desperate than I thought, if they sent you to interrogate me,” he spat in her direction. The spit landed near her foot with an audible plop.

“They are no longer interested in what you have to say,” Violet replied.

How do you tell a man you are expected to copulate with, their offspring was more important than any information he could potentially give? There was no easy, nor graceful way to bring it up.

“Gagon finds your genes more important than any intel you can provide.”

“Is he not your Alpha?”

Violet sighed. Submitting to your Alpha was absolute prerequisite for pack membership. Hierarchy was the essence of the werewolf culture. But it was difficult to acknowledge such dominance when there was no respect for the man, much less for the title he held.

“Are we supposed to bond over this,” his dry chuckle brought her attention back to him. He was quite sarcastic, which she did not necessarily mind, and certainly did not expect judging by his condition. The caked blood and livid bruises did nothing to conceal his abrasive nature. On the contrary, they accentuated the very same features of resilience and strength, which even Gagon acknowledged. If times were different, and the Fates were favorable, he could have been the solution to all of her problems, not just her escape.

“No. Just breed,” Violet snapped.

For a long and silent moment, she thought he did not hear her, but then his deep voice asked, “Excuse me?”

“Copulate,” Violet supplied and at his confused face she offered more synonyms, “bang, breed, shag, fvck.”

The way he looked up at her with a mixture of disgust and hatred, hurt her. There was no reason why his opinion would matter to her in any shape or form. He was not her mate. She barely knew him. He was just the means to her escape. Yet, the dirty look he sent her, cut deeply.

“You disagree,” Violet continued. He narrowed his eyes at her, spitting in her direction once again. “Now that we are past the pleasantries, and on the same page about our dissatisfaction with Gagon’s breeding proposal, let’s discuss how we can get help each other.”

His face distorted. Violet decided to take it as a sign of interest in what she was saying, so she calmly continued, “I can get you out.”

“Wouldn’t that contradict your orders?” His humorless laugh echoed through the chamber.

“Sure, if I was planning on staying here. You’re going to take me with you.”

“Am I?”

“You want out. I want to tag along.”

“Yeah, right.” His sarcasm did not evade her.

“Glad you agree. We’ll be headed to your pack then.” Violet recapped for his benefit, ignoring the sarcasm which by now had lost its novelty. He seriously needed attitude adjustment.

“Rogues don’t have packs,” he curtly informed her.

“And apples don’t fall far from their trees,” she paused for effect, “unless they are on a slope. So let’s examine the facts. You must be someone of importance, or at least of good linage for Gagon to send you a Breeder.”

“I am not.”

“Sure,” Violet ignored him, and continued in a steady voice, as if he did not just interrupt her, “We can waste time and debate on the semantics, but in the end, you’re pack wolf. I don’t care which or where. Anything would be an improvement compared to this hellhole.”

“I’m a rogue.”

“Fine, I want you to bring me in whatever ‘rogue group’ you belong to,” Violet rephrased for his benefit.

“And just like that, I am supposed to bring an outsider?”

“We would be besties by the time we arrive,” Violet said only to see him turning his head away from her, dismissing her all together. “Listen, you need help getting out or you will die here. I want to leave. The common goal makes us allies.”

“Let me get this straight, you are talking of betraying your Alpha, and expect me to trust you?”

He did have a point. Violet sighed. Of course, her luck will cross her path with the only intelligent male in hundred mile radius.

“If you want to know where my loyalty lies, then mark me,” Violet answered drily. The growl that erupted from deep within his battered chest could only be described as menacing. “I am not crazy about you either, but I am willing to compromise for the sake of getting the fvck out of here. Besides the one-sided mark is temporal. It will fade, and then we can go our separate ways.”

“Pup, the mark is not a commodity and is sure isn’t exchange so lightly as you propose,” he scolded her.

Violet rolled her eyes at his traditional views. He was entitled to have choices and freedom, a luxury she didn’t possess. Just as she was going to give him a piece of her mind it all clicked in her mind, “You are not mated, are you?”

She had never considered her ‘means of escape’ could already be mated. As he kept his silence, glaring at her, she reached out and rubbed off the dried blood, caked in crusts over his tanned neck and upper shoulder. He growled and tried to shift away from her hands. Luckily for Violet, the ropes did not allow him much room. That did not stop him from pulling at his restraints, testing their strength, and avoiding her touch as if it would scorch him.

There was no sign of a claim on his neck, but Violet knew that there were other places some chose to place their claim. Other places that she didn’t want to clean nor investigate.

Why was life so hard?

“You’ll be executed on the morrow. I see you value the mating bond. Think of your mate. If you die an unmarked wolf, you would never meet your Fated. I am giving you a chance to meet your true mate someday. You owe it to them to be alive long enough for that to happen.”

“What would stop you from completing the marking?” He asked, obviously considering her offer.

“Are you serious?” Violet asked and then rolled her eyes at his silence, “For once I want to meet my own mate. Kick him in the nuts for not showing up and rescuing me, but that’s not your concern. I need to save myself. The only question you should answer is, are you a part of my solution or are you a part of my problem?”

He shook his head, “Marking translates to a mating pull.”

Violet wanted to do a happy-dance. The more engaged in the conversation he was, the higher the chance she would convince him to go with her plan. He just needed some encouragement.

“Afraid that I won’t be able to keep my paws off you?” Violet picked on his pride and the applaud face told her everything she needed to know. “Fine, then I will mark you. Then you won’t have to worry about my bite completing the marking. That is of course, if you are sure you can keep it in your pants? Would that be more to your liking, Princess?”

The thunderous growl made her rethink her taunt. It was now or never.

“I will gladly give you an out. I give you my consent and permission to put me out of my misery, but make sure you off me so they can’t revive me. The last thing I want is for them to find me, and use my body as incubator. So there, now you don’t even have a moral dilemma. I want to die, if I can’t be free.”

“Do it.”

Her confidence faltered at her wolf’s discontent once he gave her his permission to mark him. Her wolf wanted her fated mate, not a sham of a marking. Violet sighed, moving closer to the rogue. This was not a marking for life. Life was not fair, but she was ready to do the needed sacrifice in the name of her mate. In the end, she was either going to die if her plan failed, or live to laugh about her recklessness. Her wolf and Violet agreed, both options were much better than being a breeder.

As soon as her canines sunk into his shoulder, aiming for the throbbing vein, Violet gagged at the blood seeping into her mouth, and shattering her resolve. Her stomach convulsed, unwilling to accept the blood, her body struggled to maintain the partial shift needed for the marking. She knew this was not going to be the heart-warming experience that she heard in conjunction to marking.

There were no love, no devotion.

Just desperation.

The process was messy, sticky, leaving a bitter, metallic taste in her mouth, and the urge to throw up. As she pulled away from him, she saw his strained, pale face. While she was busy trying to keep his blood in her system, she never considered about his feelings. The mark was an invasion. Even if the man consented, it was still forced upon his wolf. The only concern she had was if her mark weaken him further.

“Now, cut me lose,” he commanded. “Anytime while we’re still young.”

Violet did not appreciate his tone, so she snapped back, “Hate to break it to you, Grandpops, but these ropes aint’ gonna be easy to cut.”

He glared at her suspiciously as she pulled the knife from her boot, and started working on his restraints. As expected, the thick ropes binding his wrists, torso and legs were silver-infused, which made them stiff, weakened his wolf and burned whosever skin they touched. Violet kept on working despite the blisters on her own fingers. He didn’t quite well help as he kept on struggling, trying to rip them apart.

“Stop it,” Violet snapped. “The more you move, the deeper the bounds will cut, and the easier it will be for the silver to get into your blood stream. I can’t carry you out of here.”

“You are taking forever,” he grunted.

“We can’t all be 200 pound dogs,” she retorted, expecting him to growl at her sarcastic insult. What she did not expect was his laughter.

“I like your sass.”

“Must be the bond,” Violet snapped as she could not imagine how on Earth someone would enjoy her sarcasm.

He remained collected, face expressionless. Violet decided as she kept working on his bounds that stones had more emotions than him. The moment that the knife cut through the final strand of the thick rope binding his right hand above his head, his hand dropped by his side.

“Give me the knife.”

His freed hand was constantly fisting, pumping more blood in circulation. Violet eyes drifted over the pale skin covering his knuckles then caught herself starring at him with her mouth open. The mark was definitely beginning to mess with her wits.

He must have lost patience, as he quickly snapped, “Now, Violet.”

He required that attitude adjustment asap, but Violet decided to leave it for later. There was no point of wasting time speaking her mind, if their escape was unsuccessful. Such thoughts were not acceptable.

Shame-faced at how compliant she had become, she quietly put the hilt of the knife in his outstretched palm, careful not to touch his skin. The last thing she needed was an episode of public mortification because of the establishing bond. There was only so much humiliation she could deal with, and she just about reached her limit.

Luckily, he missed her discomfort as he was too busy with the ropes. Violet knew she was never going to be able to match the strength of male werewolf, even the weakened, silver-tortured one in front of her. It just had to do with size and muscle mass, something that her petite frame lacked.

What took her several attempts to cut, he managed with one fluid motion. His precision impressed her, or it was the bond at its finest – messing with her mind once again. She quietly observed him and couldn’t deny that now armed with a weapon, her weapon nevertheless, he appeared more deadly. She didn’t miss how he wordlessly tucked her knife in his own boot, effectively disarming her.

“Yes, you may have it,” Violet couldn’t help but point out his lack of manners. His attention snapped at her, eyes settling on hers, then slowly drifting down, taking in her feminine figure. He was struggling with the pull just as much as she did, whether he choose to admit it or not.

“We wouldn’t want you to accidently stumble and slice your neck open now, would we?” His sarcasm made her growl lowly.

She tossed him a plastic bottle of water with the full intention of hitting him square in the chest; however, he somehow managed to gracefully catch it at the very last second. “Drink, you’d need it.”

“Thanks,” he replied, greedily sipping the water.

If she hadn’t glanced at his hands, she would have missed the slight tremor passing through them. It was a weakness he hid by bracing his elbows against his body, steadying his hands.

Violet was not in a very mellow mood to offer any help. Besides, she really didn’t think he would appreciate her babying him. Now that she had marked him, it meant he would unintentionally do his macho bravado trying to impress her, so she could consent to his mark. Nature worked in the most nauseating ways, and definitely did not receive the memo – this was no ordinary choice marking.

“Stupid mark,” Violet mumbled to herself.

She didn’t expect him to hear her, much less respond to her. So when he agreed, “Tell me about it,” his voice made her cringe.

“So what’s your name?” Violet asked, not allowing fear to take hold of her mind.

“Why?”

“Because I have to call you something.”

“You don’t need to call me anything,” he replied hinting they were never friends, just accomplices in their escape. “So do you have any plan other than setting me free to do all the work?”

“Intel,” Violet touched her temple, “When they open the door you neutralize them.”

“How many?”

“Two.”

“When?”

“Couple of hours.”

“Have food?”

Violet reluctantly passed him the portion.

“You?”

“You’re worse,” Violet replied and explained at his obvious confusion, “We have daily quotas. Gagon doesn’t trade as Gagon doesn’t want anyone knowing his weakness.”

“You’re rationing,” he corrected her, then applied, “You sure seem to hate him.”

“Wouldn’t you?” She asked then sighed as he raised his hands in surrender, “He does what’s best for him. He needs more numbers. Breeding and choice matings aren’t that far off when you can’t attract any new members and the pack’s diminishing.”

“You see logic in this madness. Inbreeding comes with a hefty price.”

“I never said there is logic behind it. Even he sees inbreeding as a problem, hence why specimens like you are prized possession.”

“And they sent you?”

“Disappointed?” Violet spat. He shrugged, not paying attention to her. She mumbled, “Why do men do despicable things?”

“Desperate times, desperate measures,” he replied in the same hushed voice, “Who would have thought, my life would depend on a rebel?”

“Way to make me feel special.”

“He operates under a primal survival instinct, which in his case got distorted by greed.” He explained, massaging his wrists, then divided the portion in two, giving her half. After he finished his in less than two bites, he settled in wait for the guards to come back.

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