“I helped in our lab, more of a lab tech than a scientist,” she lied. How much did he know about their state of the art DNA lab?
“My dear, you are welcome to join us, or, if you prefer, volunteer as one of our test subjects.”
Slade lost it. He growled and began to shift. “You touch her, and I’ll gut you!”
The king’s guards moved in front of Wolfstrom. Each powerful alpha snarled at him. Slade wouldn’t have a chance against three.
Cricket grabbed Slade’s arm. “Hold on, his offer to help in the lab sounds intriguing.”
Slade’s muscles felt so tense, he might just explode into full wolf rage.
“Tsk, tsk, Prince Slade, you act as if the runt is your mate.”
Slade glanced at her and then back at Wolfstrom. “She’s my partner.”
Wolfstrom smiled at her. “Either way, you will never leave our territory.”
That’s what you think. “Well, when you put it that way, perhaps I can be useful.”
“What about the ones you kidnapped?” asked Slade.
“Our new pack members? Tonight you’ll meet them in the dinner hall.” He commanded his guards. “Take Prince Slade and Cricket to their separate quarters.”
The guards bowed. “Yes, master.”
Slade entered the grand dining hall filled with more than one hundred werewolves. He sighed in relief on seeing Cricket escorted to sit with the omegas. Collarless. Good.
She glanced at him, but then quickly looked down.
Slade wanted to hold her tight in his arms. Not now. He reined in his desire. Outnumbered, they wouldn’t have a chance to escape. Even if they could the cliff surrounding the castle was a sheer drop.
She wore white coveralls provided by their sinister host. He sat at the table with the alphas who, like him, wore red coveralls. They sniffed as he sat and glared at him. He glowered and didn’t bother sniffing them back in greeting. Not with brainwashed zombies or worse, traitors.
The betas wore blue, and the omegas wore green. Color coded. The guards, some alphas and others betas wore the black uniform. Cricket stood out in all white, vulnerable as a sacrificial vestal virgin.
The aroma of beef and other exotic meats filled the air, but he had lost his appetite. What the hell had he been good for? He failed to protect his pack and now broke his promise to Rylee to protect Cricket.
A familiar scent occupied his nose. Randi? The beta chatted with another lycan. Just shooting the breeze. Did he know his fiancée had been murdered by Wolfstrom’s men? Obviously not. The amnesia drug must have worked. Then he recognized the other missing betas, Erik and Allen. They, too, seemed at ease. Was that his fate? Forget his pack. Forget Team Greywolf? Forget Cricket? His soul ached. Abella.
“Welcome to Wolf’s Lair,” said an alpha with a German accent.
Slade turned. “Prince Raulf.”
He sniffed twice. “Prince Slade, it is an honor to meet another member of the royal Pentad line.” He referred to the original five ancestral wolves bitten by Wolf Wizard Stallo.
Slade bowed. “Indeed.” He furrowed his brow. “Do you remember who you are?”
He sneered. “Of course. Unlike the others, I willingly joined the pack.”
Had Raulf gone over the edge because of his mate’s death? Had he suffered morphopsychosis and Henrik convinced him to join? “I’m sorry you lost your mate.”
Raulf chuckled. “You sound like my soft brother, King Alrik.”
Slade’s hackles rose. How could he make light of such sorrow? “I’m talking about your mate.”
He smirked. “I killed her myself. Of course, I made it look like an accident.”
“What?”