Claiming Their Mate Read online

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Claiming Their Mate

  Pack Wars-Book 2

  byVella Day

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief questions embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Kimberly Killian

  Edited by Maureen Sevilla and Anne Marie Carroll

  Editing by Invisible Ink Editing

  Published in the United States of America

  Copyright 2013

  Chapter One

  Halfway up the stairs of the home Chelsea Wilson planned to show, scratching noises echoed through the downstairs.

  She leaned over the railing and shouted, “Hello?”

  When she didn’t receive a response, she shrugged and headed back to the foyer, where the sound continued. She called out again but received no response this time either. Someone had to be here.

  As she walked through the dining room, she made a mental note to inform her clients about the white wainscoting on the walls and the rich blue and white wallpaper accent wall.

  She moved from the dining room to the living room and toward the back of the house to find the source of the scratching. Her gaze was so focused on her destination, she tripped when her foot hit something hard. “What the fuck?”

  She looked down. “Jesus Christ.” Her heart shot straight to her throat and her muscles locked.

  A human leg.

  She swallowed the moisture in her mouth and slapped a hand on her chest. It was Jeffrey Wendlick, one of the realtors at her company. “Jeffrey?” Her breath whooshed out.

  Do something. She dropped to her knees to check for a pulse. He was positioned chest down, but his head was turned to the side. His mouth was agape and his eyes were wide open, implying he might already be dead. Her own pulse reached the danger zone.

  Only now did the unpleasant metallic smell of blood reach her. A smashed cell phone lay in the fresh pool of blood next to his hand. As she reached for his throat to check his pulse, hoping that by some miracle he was still alive, she spotted the huge gash across his throat. “Oh, my God.” His throat had been ripped open. Bile raced to her mouth, and she crab-walked backward.

  Regaining her balance, she stood and stepped away from Jeffrey’s corpse. She kept her gaze on him, hoping if she looked hard enough, he’d move.

  Nails scratching the tile in the back broke through her reeling thoughts.

  Get the hell out of here.

  If she didn’t, she might end up like Jeffrey. Blanking her mind to his gruesome death, she sped toward the front. A back door banged shut. That couldn’t be a dog. Panic clawed through her body. She reached the main entrance and rushed outside, then hustled down the steps. Damned high heels made moving quickly impossible. She kicked off her shoes, picked them up, and ran. Her mind spun.

  Damn. She’d forgotten to call 9-1-1. Once she was safely locked in her car and out of there, she’d advise the cops about the murder.

  Her car was parked nearby, across and down the street. She glanced slightly behind her to see if any vehicles were coming. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a man running from behind the house. All she could think was that this was the guy who’d murdered poor Jeffrey.

  “Hey, bitch!” he shouted.

  Her body froze. She spun to judge how far away the threat was. The man stood a good thirty feet from her.

  Remember what he looks like so you can tell the cops.

  Under six feet, dark hair, fairly dark skin.Shit. That wasn’t good enough. She dragged her gaze down his body and spotted the gun in his hand.

  No!

  Adrenaline swamped her. Her eyes hurt and her mouth turned sand dry. She forced her feet to move, but sludge had replaced her blood. You have to go.

  Just as she twisted to run for the car, a painfully hot sensation pierced her arm. Red oozed up from a hole in her forearm and bile tinged her mouth. Holy fuck. The bastard shot her. She stole a quick glance at her assailant, who was heading straight at her.

  Too many options confronted her and yet not one seemed plausible. Knowing she’d never make it to her car before he caught her, she ran the other way. She headed behind the house and prayed for either a way out or a weapon to bash in his head if he tried to attack her again. Her arm throbbed and her thoughts splintered.

  Go!

  She dropped her shoes and made it to the backyard, hoping he wouldn’t follow her.

  Right, and you own this week’s winning lottery ticket.

  Think. A small shed sat in a fenced area in the far back corner, which made it off-limits.

  “I’m coming for you. You can’t escape.” His singsong voice rattled in her brain.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  No one was around to help her. As she gulped in mouthfuls of air, all she could think to do was race to the other side of the house and hope to emerge behind him. With each step, her legs felt like she was lifting iron. The image of Jeffrey’s ripped throat reminded her how much danger she was in. She immediately clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her scream. Her nostrils flared.

  Once she made it to the east side of the house, her gaze bounced between a tree she might hide behind and the hedge nestled against the house. The man’s thrashing and obnoxious chants told her he was nearby. Her arm hurt and her stomach roiled and threatened to erupt. Quick. Just hide. She ducked behind the thorny bush, scrunched low, and labored to control her loud breathing.

  “You can’t hide from me, chica.”

  Tears streamed down her cheeks. A hiccup emanated from her throat. She ducked her head and prayed he hadn’t heard her.

  The blood pounding behind her eyes prevented her from figuring out his location. His feet passed within inches from her hiding place, and she swallowed a sob. Now there was no way she could call 9-1-1. Just speaking to the operator would give away her position.

  His footstep returned close to her hiding spot, and her heart slammed against her chest. Cars drove by. Why didn’t anyone stop to question this creep? Damned “For Sale” sign.

  She peeked through the bushes to find him, but leaves and stems blocked her vision. Only flashes of color appeared every once in a while, as if he was taunting her, waiting for her to come out on her own. She clasped her hand over her wound to prevent the blood from getting everywhere and leaving a trail for him to follow.

  Oh, shit. Her vision darkened for a moment as if her mind was trying to protect her.

  Except for an occasional car passing down the street and a bird chirping, only her own pounding heart sounded. She wanted to run, but her body refused to move.

  Don’t do anything stupid.The urge to jump up, wave, and scream for help almost won out, but if she failed to attract someone’s attention, he’d kill her.

  For the moment, no footsteps sounded and no leaves crunched. Dare she hope he’d given up and driven away? She couldn’t be that lucky.

  How long should she wait before she tried to get help? Her arm hurt like a bitch, and with each passing minute, she grew weaker. Her legs cramped something fierce from squatting so long. Her brain fogged, and for a moment, she almost believed he’d left.

  She lifted her head above the bush for a quick look, and a twig cracked nearby. Damn. She ducked.

  Footsteps sounded. “Game’s over, chica. I’m gonna git you. I can smell you.” She swore he growled after he chuckled.

  A
flash of blue appeared between the branches. Oh God.

  An unusually hairy hand snaked into the bush, and when he latched on to her wounded arm, she yelped.

  “I got you now, little lady.”

  He pulled her through the brambles, slicing her face and limbs. Once she was free from the bush, he glared at her. His gun wasn’t in his hand, but she knew he must still have it. If she lived through this ordeal, she wanted to remember everything about him. Too bad all she could see was a watery gray eye that seemed unfocused.

  Now that she’d gotten a good look at him, he’d know she could identify him. “I promise I won’t tell anyone. Just leave me alone.” Her voice wobbled, and she was never more disgusted with herself than at that moment. However, if she acted tough, it might make things worse.

  He grinned, showing yellowed pointed teeth.

  “You’re right about not telling anyone.” His spittle sprayed when he spoke too close to her face. Vomit rolled up into her mouth. She wanted to wipe off his vile effluent but he was holding her arms too tightly. “When I’m done with you, you won’t be able to say a word.”

  The putrid stench from his breath forced her to turn her head. He jerked her injured arm, and her eyes rolled upward for a second. She opened her mouth to scream, but only a squeak came out. He shoved her three feet to the left, past the hedge, and slammed her back against the wall. Pain stabbed her spine, and her legs wobbled.

  She held up her hands. “I have money. I’ll give you my credit cards. Take everything. Just don’t hurt me.”

  “You are a piece of work, puta.”

  His mouth descended on hers. She pressed her lips tight to prevent his tongue from darting in, but his brute force bruised her mouth. Unable even to turn her face, she lifted her knee to strike him in the balls. He anticipated her reaction and blocked her thrust.

  “You can’t win, bitch.” He leaned back a few inches and tore at her blouse with nails that more closely resembled animal claws than human fingers. The buttons popped and the material ripped open.

  Oh, no. He’s going to rape then kill me. The repulsion of what was to come stole her breath. Tears leaked out. I don’t want to die.

  He lifted her chin, exposing her neck. “I’m so going to enjoy this. Scream and I’ll rip out your throat, too.”

  Too? Jeffrey’s bloody image surfaced once more, and all she could do was nod. The murderer dragged her bra up over her breasts and the chilly air pebbled her nipples. He grabbed hold of her breast and squeezed. Pain tripped past her ribs.

  Do something.

  She couldn’t stand there like an accepting lamb while he stuck his cock in her. Thoughts of getting DNA under her fingernails seemed her only option. She glanced to the street and hoped someone would happen by, but the partial fence blocked her view.

  “Don’t touch me,” she whispered through gritted teeth.

  He barked out a laugh. “Like you’re in any position to tell me what to do.” The smack across her face came so fast and hard her knees gave way, and her ass dropped to the ground.

  Her heart slammed against her ribcage as the intensity of the pain radiated across her cheek and down her teeth.

  The man wasted no time. While he held her wrists in one hand, he knelt and straddled her. She struggled to get free but failed to move at all.

  Oh, no. Oh, no. Her mind whirred as she tried to figure out what to do. Do something. Anything.

  When his fingers reached up under her skirt and grabbed hold of her panties, she clawed his cheek and snarled. Take that you asshole.

  “You fucking puta.” He tore off her underwear with one swift pull, and the expected blow to her face came so hard she blanked out for what she thought were a few seconds.

  When she roused, her vision blurred and her jaw ached. He was kneeling on her wrists, making it impossible for her to grab him. She rocked right and left but couldn’t throw him off.

  Stupid. Now because of her resistance, her imminent death would be more painful.

  Aw, hell. She had nothing to lose. Nothing! Once more, she lifted her knee between his legs, but he deflected the blow.

  “You want to play hard to get? I’ll show you, chica.” He reached behind his back, withdrew the gun and tossed it to the side. His fingers grappled with his pants button and his tongue lolled out.

  She closed her eyes, not wanting to watch the sadistic bastard leer at her during the assault. All she could focus on were his zipper lowering and his hard, fast breaths. Spittle dropped to her face, and she worked hard not to gag.

  She considered another tactic. Hadn’t she read that a rapist got off on the victim’s fear? Could she act interested instead of showing she was scared to death?

  Reality hit. No matter what she did, he would rape and murder her. Not only would she suffer a horrific end to her short life, her poor parents would suffer terribly with the knowledge.

  To hell with what she’d read. Let him hurt her—torture her. She wouldn’t die without a fight.

  She opened her mouth and let out a blood-curdling scream.

  A shout sounded in response. Her pulse spiked.

  The repugnant man spurt a string of harsh, foreign-sounding words and jumped up. A sneer filled his face before he looked toward the street and raced away.

  She lifted her head then collapsed, too weak to move.

  Feet pounded, a gunshot rent the air, and then a car engine started.

  As she struggled to sit up, her body rebelled. Pain ripped across her face and up her arm. She dropped to the ground and curled into a fetal position. Her mind emptied as her body gave out.

  Then two warm hands lifted her to a seated position. “I got you. You’re safe,” said a deep, vaguely familiar voice.

  She almost didn’t want to open her eyes, still overwhelmed with fear that the horrid man would return. Except now the fetid stench was gone, and in its place was something spicy and enticing.

  “Chelsea. It’s okay.”

  He knew her name.

  She opened her eyes and stared into the most beautiful set of amber eyes, and believed she must be hallucinating. Eyes that coincidently belonged to one of the men who’d been in her dreams since her best friend’s Christmas party.

  “Drake?”

  “Yeah, babe, it’s me.”

  He glanced at her ripped, discarded underwear and cupped her chin between his fingers. “Did he rape you?” he growled out his question.

  “No.” She choked on a sob. “You got here just in time.”

  “We need to get you to a doctor to take care of that gunshot wound and your face.” He nodded to her exposed breasts. “Maybe you want to pull down your bra.”

  Heat raced up her face at the realization that he’d seen her almost naked, though right now that should be the least of her worries. Her shirt was beyond repair, but she managed to tug the bra down and at least cover her bare breasts. Trembling and weak, she fumbled to adjust her skirt.

  He leaned her against his propped knee, whipped off his shirt, and held out his T-shirt. “Put this on.”

  Relief washed through her. “Thank you.” The sight of his rippled abs and muscled chest helped take her mind off her aches and embarrassment. When she tried to lift the shirt over her head, her arm screamed.

  “Let me.” He took the shirt from her to help.

  She couldn’t wrap her head around how one minute, that evil troll had been about to rape her, and the next, Mr. Wonderful arrived to rescue her.

  Drake slid his hands under her knees and gently lifted her. Blood covered her arm and trickled down her skirt.

  Tremors snaked through her. “H-how did you know? How did you get here?” she managed to ask. A ton of other questions tumbled around in her brain, but she couldn’t get the rest out of her mouth.

  His lips froze for a second as if he was figuring out what she meant. “Kurt’s brother, Jeffrey, called us from the house and said he heard an intruder. A gunshot sounded. I’m afraid Kurt and I arrived too late to save him.” He carr
ied her toward the front of the house.

  She clamped a hand over her mouth then lowered it. “I saw Jeffrey.” Her stomach churned. “I didn’t see a gunshot wound.”

  “The bullet went through his heart.”

  That explained it. Jeffrey was face down. “I can’t imagine how horrifying that must have been. ” At the party, Kurt had spoken of Jeffrey with awe and respect. Now his brother was dead. As nice as it was to be in Drake’s arms, the jostling caused more discomfort. “I can walk. Really.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, just hold me up.”

  He set her down and waited until she was stable before he released her. She needed something to focus on besides her near death experience. “Where’s Kurt?”

  “Still inside. As you can imagine, he’s really shook up.”

  As anyone would be. “The poor man.” Her heart ached for him.

  “Come on. We need to get out of here in case that guy comes back.”

  Her stomach tumbled at the thought, and a sharp pain stabbed her abdomen. She wrapped an arm around her belly. “Do you think he would?” A piercing ache speared her eye.

  “Let’s discuss this someplace else.”

  She’d go with him, especially if it meant she could crawl into her bed sooner.

  He opened his car door for her. She looked back at the house. “What about Kurt?”

  As if he heard her, Kurt marched from the house. Drake stiffened beside her. Kurt’s body was so rigid, she wasn’t sure he was even breathing. His disheveled brown hair, stood at odd angles as if he’d been tearing at it, and his tight blue shirt was stained with blood. Jeffrey’s blood.

  When he spotted her, he trotted over and ran his concerned gaze the length of her body. Between wearing Drake’s shirt and the blood drenching her hand, she must look a total mess. Not to mention how red her throbbing face must appear. She palmed her ripped panties in one hand.

  “What happened?” He glanced from her to his partner. “Was she...?”

  She hiccupped. “No, thank God.” She couldn’t talk about what happened and shook her head. “I’m sorry for your loss.”