Torn Between Her Fated Mates

Chapter 5 - Poor Life Choices

BREELYNN'S POV

Pain, so much pain. Everything hurts. Opening my eyes provides a sensory overload that I am not at all prepared to handle. I have zero clues where I am or how I got here. Trying to remember anything that happened before is proving impossible. Taking stock of what I do know, I notice that I am in a bedroom, and it is nice enough; it’s not fancy, but it’s clean, and the bed is super soft. Although I have a full range of motion, when I sit up, I realize that my ankle has a shackle wrapped around it and is attached to the corner poster of the bed. So, I am a prisoner, great.

In a heartbeat, all my memories of today come back to me.

Potion no work on rejected mate.

I don’t sell to your kind, now go! - You are selling to her.

Submit!

So, your name is Alpha? - How hard did he hit you, baby?

There are no humans around.

Where is your mate?

Show me your mark.

Sorry, Breelynn, I can’t shift; I am fading. I am not okay, Bree.

At least, I think it happened today; I have no idea how long I have been out. One thing I know is that I have a desperate need to use the restroom, and even though there is one attached to the room, I am not entirely sure I have enough chain to let me reach it. Scooching to the side of the bed, every movement reminds me of how much abuse my body has taken.

Walking to the bathroom, I am amused that the chain attached to my ankle has precisely the right amount of links needed to give me access to the toilet, but not a link further.

‘No shower for us, Trina.’ I halfway joke in my head. Interesting, I am joking; why am I joking with myself right now? I should be freaking out, trying to rip the cuff off my ankle or the chain off the bed.

After doing my business, I wash my hands and rinse cool water over my face. The swelling hasn’t gone down, and the bruising hasn’t begun to fade, so I can’t even judge how long I have been out based on my rate of healing. It could be minutes, hours, or days since Tweedle Dum (Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum are my new nicknames for the wonder twins) zapped me with his taser.

I enter the room and find Blackie sitting on the bed with a tray next to him. Sure, the black haired, magnificent specimen of a man, I mean kidnapper, is offering me a bottle of water and a sandwich like I am a willing guest. Frozen where I stand, I have no idea what is ahead for me, considering the events that have occurred since walking up to the crazy lady’s booth.

“I am not going to hurt you.” The words purring out of his mouth like a warm blanket wrapping around me, and I just want to cuddle up with him; okay, Breelynn, wow, pull it together. Taking a moment to filter through what he has done to me today, slapping me, tasering me, kidnapping, cuffing me to a bed.

“Again. You meant to say you’re not going to hurt me again?” Snapping back, I felt like I have control again; yep, I am either drooling over the guy or antagonizing him. I seriously question my choices in life.

Blackie laughs and shakes. “You are spirited, that’s for sure. I have no further intentions of hurting you. Now have a seat and eat, please.”

Marco thinks he can use intimidation to take whatever he wants. Even if he takes it, I won’t give him the satisfaction of my obedience.

Most of my life has been spent in foster care, and although I have had a few semi-decent families look after me, the majority were sketchy. Learning from other kids and experiencing it for myself, I know I can never back down from guys like him, no matter how scared I am.

My body releases the tension, and I lean back on my heels. My arms cross over my chest as I lift my chin high and stare him down. “No!”

Blackie has that smirk smile thing again. If history has taught me anything, he does that right before something terrible happens to me. He rises from the bed, takes what appears to be two steps, and stops right in front of me. I hold my ground and match his intense stare. I can feel the authority and power radiating from him, but I stay steady, refusing to lose this game. His smirk grows into a genuine smile.

“Okay then, we will skip dinner and go (straight?) to dessert.” He leans down and places one hand behind my head and wraps the other around my waist, pressed on my lower back. Warm and inviting, his lips are pressed against mine, and my heart stops beating. My hands are immediately pressed against his chest, and with the weakest effort ever, I try to pull away.

My dress is pulled tight against me as he grabs and gathers the material to keep me from moving. The other hand cradling the back of my head grips my hair and tugs it enough to send shockwaves down my body.

It’s not forced or aggressive like I would imagine his kisses, not that I have imagined what his kisses would be like. Even though I want him to stop, I kiss him back. My hands slide up his chest to his shoulders and wrap around his neck. He pulls me in tighter, and I feel his tongue barely lick my bottom lip, and instinctively I open my mouth for him.

Growing deep and passionate, I have never been kissed like this. Probably because as soon as I get to this point, I am panicking so much that I shut down and push the guy away. But there is no anxiety, no deep ingrained fear, no desire to push him away. And as good as it feels, it also feels as if something is missing, but I am too lost at this moment to care. His hand releases the back of my dress and slides down my hip until his fingers find the hem of my sundress. He pulls at the hem allowing access to my skin, and traces his fingertips up the back of my thigh, reaching my panties.

Reality kicks in, and I push him away with all my strength. Oddly, it’s not the ‘fight or flight’ reality I had with my ex-boyfriend (and every other guy I have ever dated) but the common sense that I shouldn’t be kissing the guy who has me shackled to his bed.

Even though I pushed him away with all my strength, I could tell that it didn’t affect him, but oddly, out of respect, he stepped back. His lips are wet, and that smirk has returned. “What is it, Piccola Lupa? Have you decided you want dinner first?”

My lips are still tingling, I can feel the heat where his fingers caressed the back of my leg, and if I am being honest with myself, I am thoroughly turned on right now. He takes a few steps backward, holds out his hand for me to take, and motions his head towards the bed. “It’s just a sandwich; come on, eat.”

Unconsciously my hand reaches for his, but I jerk it back just before he takes it. “You hit me, tasered me, and chained me to a bed. I am not eating your f*****g sandwich.” Looking as if he is unphased by the outburst, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a weird-looking key. “If I unchain you, will you promise to eat and not run away?”

“When I am done eating, are you going to chain me back up?” Openly questioning his intentions makes him laugh. He always seems to be amused by my actions or laughing at me. It’s unsettling, and I don’t like it at all. “If you don’t try to leave, Piccola Lupa, I will have no reason to chain you up.” Blackie counters as he walks back to me with the most erotic look I have seen while putting the key between his lips. Those intense lips that I was just kissing. I want to take that key from his mouth with mine, maybe bite his bottom lip while doing it. STOP; he is a bad man; what is wrong with me?!

I need to get a hold of myself. I feel like I am being pulled toward him like we are meant to be, but I am fighting it. Nothing is making any sense, and the harder I try to understand what is happening, the fuzzier it all becomes. “Promise?” His s****l baritone voice engulfed me.

Eyes gazing into mine, his hands resting on my hips as he squats down. Once down, he slowly moves his hands down the sides of my legs, each caress causing currents of electricity through my dress to my skin and uncharted areas of my body. Once his fingertips actually touch my skin, it forces my knees to give out a bit, and I suck in air that I am unable to exhale. His eyebrows twitch just a bit to let me know that he caught my excitement. Reaching his destination, his left-hand wraps around the shackle on my ankle, and his right-hand removes the key from his mouth. He quietly waits for my reply; I end the silence, “I promise.” Breaking our eye contact, he focuses on unlocking the metal cuff.

“If you run, Piccola Lupa, just remember…” he takes the iron cuff off completely.

“I love the hunt…” he raises my ankle to his lips, kissing the red marks the iron cuff left on my skin.

“I always win…” setting my foot back down, he stands back up. Using his thumb, he rubs the outside of my bottom lip.

“And when I catch you…” pushing his thumb between my lips until the tip hits my teeth.

”When I catch you, I will do what I want with and to you!” he kisses me passionately, stealing my breath and every rational thought I ever had. I respond by closing the gap between us and wrapping my hands around his neck, then running my fingers through his hair. I want him; I want him so badly that I am willing to run away so that he will catch me.

Just then, Tweedle Dee or Tweedle Dum walks in. I jump back, removing myself from Blackie’s body, and the blood rushes back to my head. Rational thoughts are slowly returning, and I have discovered two crucial things. One, I am incapable of making intelligent decisions regarding the man standing in front of me, and two, I haven’t heard from Trina since I was electrocuted by the man I was just making out with. It’s confirmed I absolutely, wholeheartedly make poor life choices!

“Sorry, Alpha, but Maverick thinks he spotted a wolf following us. We sent out a group of trackers, but they haven’t picked up a scent within our usual perimeter search. Did you want us to extend that area since we have acquired your…friend?”

Blackie never takes his gaze from mine. He reaches out and plays with a strand of my hair, twirling in his finger. “What do you think, my Bella Piccola Lupa? Has your mate sent a tracker wolf to find you?

I pull my head away from him, and my hair falls from his finger. He smiles; I think he likes it when I defy him. “There is nothing in that sentence that makes any sense.”

Blackie either can’t or won’t stop gazing into my eyes. It’s not uncomfortable like it was earlier; this is sweet, almost loving. He takes my hands and walks back to the bed, gently pulling me with him. “Don’t go past the perimeter but double up on the patrols. And Bex, don’t disturb us again.”

As Bex leaves the room and shuts the door, Blackie sets me on the bed next to the food tray. “You need to eat, Piccola Lupa; I would hate to have to punish you for refusing my food.” Once again, my knees go weak, and all reason has left my brain.