“As soon as Roscoe arrives, you can leave.”
That wasn’t exactly fan-freaking-tastic news. A part of her wanted to rant and rave, but what good would it do? She would only end up being confined in that damn bedroom again and that would drive her and her wolf crazy. Also, she was a believer that it was best to have your enemy in sight. “Have you called him yet?”
“He’ll be here soon,” he lied. In truth, he hadn’t contacted Roscoe and he had no intention of doing.
“Well then, can the captive get a coffee or what?” she asked no one in particular.
Aside from psycho boy, Dante and Tao, there were four other males in the room; a broad frowner with a military haircut, a gorgeous blonde with caramel skin, a tall wolf with tousled dark curls and a clown-wide smile, and a burly rugged guy with claw mark scars across one cheek. It occurred to her that she could just label them Grumpy, Blondie, Smiley and Burly.
Other than Dante – who seemed strangely fascinated with her for having managed to claw him – none of the wolves looked at all pleased about her presence. She guessed that they weren’t a fan of her dad. Not many were. Even the wolf who was wearing a huge grin looked intrigued as opposed to friendly, and she had the feeling that his smile was permanently there. Or maybe he was imagining what it would feel like to rip out her throat and hand it bow-tied to her asshole of a father. With his arrogance, deviousness and ‘I own the world and can do whatever the hell I want’ attitude, her dad was as good at collecting enemies as he was at gathering alliances. Even those who allied themselves with him only did so because of how influential he was – it was all just politics.
In response to her question, Trey nodded to a grinning Marcus who switched on the coffee machine and retrieved a mug from the cupboard. Trey tilted his head as he considered her. “You know, you’re not what I’d expected.”
“Is that right?” she said flatly.
“Roscoe usually likes airheads and submissives.” Blonde as she was, she didn’t have that bimbo look about her. There was no missing the sharp, keen mind behind those charcoal-grey eyes. “Funny how a person’s true mate can be the opposite of what they go for.”
“He’s not my true mate.” It came out snappier than she had intended.
“If you haven’t found your true mate yet, why would you mate with someone else? It’s not like you haven’t got plenty of time to find him. You can’t be much older than twenty-four, twenty-five.”
“My mate’s dead. He died when we were kids.”
“Well then that’s something you and I have in common. I also lost my mate a long time ago before I was able to claim her.”
Taryn took in his solemn expression and felt a pang of sympathy for him. The loss of a mate wasn’t something anyone could understand unless they had experienced that kind of pain themselves. “Sorry.”
He simply shrugged a little. “Hmm, now you and Roscoe as a couple make even less sense. If you’re not true mates, then that means he’s chosen a spitfire. It really must be love.”
“Huh.” Taryn had to bite back a snort. Love? Yeah, right. The reason Roscoe was so determined to fuck her was simply because she hadn’t responded to his charm and apparently his ego couldn’t handle the blow. As for why he wanted to take her as his mate…The only thing she could figure was that he wanted an alliance with her dad.
“When’s the mating ceremony scheduled for?” asked Trey.
Oh there would be no mating ceremony. Roscoe was keen to get it over with because her dad had insisted on there being one before he would hand her over completely – only so he had an excuse to have a get-together with all his alliances and look the big man. No way would she bind herself to someone she didn’t care for or even like. Then there was the matter of Roscoe being a control freak; she had picked that up from his interactions with his enforcers, all of whom were intimidated by him. She didn’t believe they were scared of him in a physical sense. It was as though he had some sort of hold over them, like he held their secrets in the palm of his hand or something like that.
Also, if the rumors were right, Roscoe got his kicks from inflicting pain on women. Considering he had forced his mark on her in the middle of a night club, she had no problem believing that. She had expected him to strike her after she practically crushed his balls with her hand in retaliation, but when he could finally stand and had finished panting, he merely smiled. It was a creepy smile that swore revenge, but he hadn’t stopped her from walking away. Apparently he was biding his time.
To escape the mating, her first stop had been her dad. As he wanted the alliance, she wasn’t getting any help from that corner. Her next stop should be her Alpha, but as her dad was the Alpha, that avenue was closed to her. She could try leaving the pack but that wouldn’t improve her situation. As a lone wolf without any protection, pack, or territory she would be easy pickings, and Roscoe would undoubtedly be the picker.
The only other person she had was her uncle – her deceased mother’s youngest brother – who she hadn’t seen since he mated into another pack ten years ago. Her plan was to ask him to approach his Alpha with the idea of accepting her into his pack, but she wasn’t optimistic. Although she was a healer, she was also latent and she couldn’t envision any Alpha being particularly interested in taking in a latent wolf. The question was, even if the Alpha did take her in, would he be prepared to challenge Roscoe if he – angry at being thwarted as only a control freak could be – came to bring her back?