Shift Happens(71)
“Not again,” I whimpered. The strong tang of his desire seared my nose. Dylan wasn’t the only one who reeked of anticipation. The others did, too. “Please.”
Dylan smirked, pulling his shirt over his head in one swift move, shucking his jeans off next. “Maybe if you beg, I’ll keep them from you, this time.”
Last night, after I refused the mate bond, he’d ordered every pack male to take a turn. Panic shook my body, urging me to flee. But there was nowhere to run. My head turned to the side to avoid looking at the men, reeking with anticipation. I would not be spared, no matter how much I begged. I’d learned that lesson.
Hyena Piss Man cocked his head and sniffed the air. “Truth.” His laughter trailed him as he walked down the hall out of sight, leaving me with my day-walking nightmares.
The asshole probably had no idea he triggered these memories. When the last of the shakes racking my body dissipated, and the room cleared of my past horrors, I blinked away the tears in my eyes and surveyed the room. The Werehyena had left me alone with Angie.
“Let me go.” My voice came out as a hiss.
Angie shook her head. “I’ve been ordered to assist Mark and he told me not to unstrap you. I can’t.”
“Mark? Hyena Piss Man?”
Angie nodded.
“Did he order you to prevent my escape?”
Angie frowned, thinking over the Werehyena’s words. “No. Not expressly. How will you get out of the cuffs?”
“Don’t worry about that. Can you check the hallway? Is there anyone there?”
Angie turned and peered out of the door. She made sure to keep her feet inside to comply with Mark’s orders. “No.”
“Any open windows?”
Angie looked over her shoulder with her eyebrow raised in question.
I raised both of mine in response.
“Yes. There’s one at the end of the hallway to the right. Quite big, but it’s high up.”
As soon as she confirmed an open window was present, I willed the change. The shackles fell away from my petite falcon form. Angie gasped.
Stretching my wings, I took a little hop and launched into the air. Flapping wildly to maneuver through the doorway, I banked sharply to the right. Picking up speed, I flew through the empty hallway and out the open window.
Chapter Thirty
Flight time from West Vancouver to Wick’s house on a bad day with horrific weather required half an hour tops. It took me several hours. I soared aimlessly in the sky, enjoying the wind as it soothed my feathers and lifted me up. Losing myself in the freedom acted as a cleanser and shook the last vestiges of fear clinging to my essence. Too hell with Lucien and his deadline. I needed to fix myself first.
After what I went through in Dylan’s pack, the torture I endured under the Werehyena’s ministrations seemed minor in comparison, but the fear I’d experienced dredged up a lot of unwanted memories. My skin recoiled at the thought of Mark’s hands and the blades. What he planned to do—to hurt and humiliate me—boiled my blood, leaving one consistent thought running through my bird brain.
Mark was a dead man.
The sun crested the horizon by the time I landed in Wick’s room. He’d left the window open, but he wasn’t there. I shifted to my human form and flopped face first onto his bed to nuzzle into his pillows and inhale his scent deep into my body, over and over and over again. I savored the calm washing through me. My wolf relaxed, my mountain lion stopped pacing, and it would’ve been nice to drift to sleep surrounded by everything Wick, but there was another scent in the room. It leeched off my skin and rubbed into the sheets, prickling my nose. Mark’s signature stench clung to my body, refusing to let me truly escape.
I hopped off the bed and ran to the shower, flinging the dials to full blast. The near-blistering hot water scalded my skin, burning it, but in a good way. It felt good. But not enough. I glanced down at the pink loofa Wick purchased for me a few weeks ago. It didn’t scour as hard as I wanted. I leapt out of the shower and pulled items out from under the sink until I found a pumice stone.
Jumping back in the shower, I scrubbed until the top layer of my skin sloughed off and everything felt new and clean. Now only my woodsy scent mixed in with the soap and water. Pumice stones were meant for sanding off the hard layers of skin on the bottom of feet, but it was perfect for what I wanted and needed—getting rid of any trace of Mark. If only it could work on my mind as well.
Leaning against the wall, I let the water run over my head and down my back, my skin long since numb from the soothing burn. My injuries, rather minor to begin with, had healed significantly from shifting twice.
The shower curtain flung back and I jumped. My feet slipped on the slick flooring and the tiling tilted as I fell backward. Strong hands grabbed me before I struck the ground and I looked up to see Wick. He leaned into the shower stall, gripping both my arms with his hands. His eyes blazed an intense yellow, boring into my mind and my heart. The water from the shower pelted the back of his head, making his short hair plaster against his scalp. He didn’t notice as his eyes remained glued to mine.