Captive Mate - Eliot Grayson Page 0,3

still crossed, like he was all casual, but his fists were clenched so hard his knuckles were white.

“It’s not a bluff.” And it wasn’t, not that it was any comfort. If they killed me, I’d be too dead to have the bleak satisfaction of watching Matthew suffer and die too, and I was the only necromancer I knew with the chops and the cojones to bring me back. Irony at its finest. “He’ll die if you kill me. If you want to risk it, then do it. This basement sucks anyway. I mean, who decorated this place? The Bee Gees’ grandma?”

Nate suddenly turned away, making a strange choking sound. “Nate, seriously, what the fuck,” Ian hissed at him. “Really? He’s the enemy.” Nate’s shoulders shook, and then he turned around again, his eyes oddly bright.

Well, fuck me. He’d been laughing. I still hated him, but at least he had one good quality other than that fucking cute ass and his aim with a bottle.

“Okay, look,” Nate said, putting his hands on his hips. He cleared his throat. “No killing. Just in case it’s not a bluff,” he said, directing that at Ian, who huffed at him. “But torturing. That we can do lots of, right? Starving, beating, you know, um, other stuff. Torture’s not really my thing. I mean, obviously we can’t cut off fingers or anything, that would be fucked-up, but. Something?” He elbowed Ian in the side with force. “Feel free to jump in anytime, asshole.”

“I’m terrified,” I said. Other stuff? That would be fucked-up? As if that wasn’t the whole point of torture. What was wrong with this pack? Was there anything they were good at? Their victory the other night was obviously an accident. And I’d let myself be captured by these incompetents. Sometimes I seriously hated myself, too. “Really. Shaking in my shoes. Cringing. Would you like me to come up with some ideas for you? I hate massages, hot baths, and caviar, just for example.” Nate rubbed the bridge of his nose and shook his head. I smirked up at them. “Anyway, I can do torture for days. On either side of the equation. I couldn’t care less. But he will,” I said, nodding at Matthew, who was still drooling on the floor. “He won’t let you.”

“Wouldn’t give him a choice,” Ian said grimly. “He’s this close to being removed as pack leader by the council. I’m acting in his place right now, pretty much.”

My eyes darted back to Matthew involuntarily. Shit. I’d caused that, and a tiny little unfamiliar worm of guilt wriggled in my guts.

Matthew wasn’t quite as big as his brother, but he was more powerful, somehow, even lying there whammied by his brother-in-law. All those years of leading a pack left their mark. And he was a hell of a lot smarter. When I’d first met him, I’d been struck by how shrewd and observant he was — before he went under the influence of a fucking powerful enchantment, anyway. That tended to scramble a few neurons. I’d basically stuck a magical egg beater in his head and taken it to his brain — figuratively speaking. Although I was going to file that idea away for literal use at some point in the future. I knew a few assholes who deserved it. Maybe Ian.

“He’s still your brother,” I replied. That was Ian’s weak spot, I knew it. I had to lean on it, hard. “Do you do whatever the pack council says? Are you just their puppet? Even if they want you to betray your own family?”

“Fuck you,” Ian said, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t try to manipulate me. Like you give a shit about Matt. You’re the one refusing to remove your spell. This is your fault, not mine.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He had half a brain after all.

Nate frowned down at Matthew, biting his lip, deep in thought. Double fuck. Maybe Ian could squeeze an idea out once in a while, but Nate was really the brains of the operation, even if he clearly thought with his little head as much as his big one — see Exhibit A, his mate.

“It may not be all that dramatic, but being cut off from your magic is worse than being beaten, for a warlock,” Nate said slowly. “Probably for a shaman, too? I mean, the only real difference is he’s a werewolf. And in chains like that, he can’t shift, either, which has to suck. Right?” Ian nodded, and for the