shocked to find my mind reeling with ways to snap the offending finger right off her hand. Revenge, one thing I’d always avoided and discouraged others from enacting, had never looked sweeter.
A crowd had formed, distracting me from my vengeful thoughts. They were watching us, some licking their lips, anticipating more violence.
With my head secured in Jasmine’s grip, I could see those standing behind her. They were all women. Attractive women dressed in tan uniforms. There were girls as young as twelve or thirteen and women in their fifties, maybe older.
Their commonality was their beauty.
I remembered my vow at the hotel — stop being a victim.
I’d conveniently forgotten somewhere along the way that dumping the victim role didn’t equal being reckless. I was just too tired of Jazmine’s abuse to refrain from spouting off more careless words. “You won’t get Zane. He loves me. You can’t force him to love you, can you, Jazmine? Can you?”
The change came without warning. I barely sensed the vibration before her clothing blasted in every direction.
A black bra strap snapped against my cheek as it sailed by. Jazmine landed on all fours in full wolf form. She circled, snarling and snapping, her gums trembled, drawing my gaze to her razor-sharp canines. I recalled in that instant that wolves had forty-two teeth, and I was pretty damn sure I was getting a good view of most of them.
The ring of surrounding women stepped back. Some had their backs pressed against the concrete walls. They looked as terrified as I felt.
“No!” A male voice shouted. “Honey, please, settle down.”
She swung her head in the direction of his voice. Martin, the least-trusted elder, from yesterday’s board meeting, pushed through the growing crowd of females. His faithful German Shepherd on his heels.
Although somewhat startled by his appearance, I wasn’t that surprised. His dog had already revealed Martin’s connection to the redheaded woman — Jazmine. I was still having a hard time accepting they were the same heartless woman.
The regal charcoal wolf she’d become whined, her attention now on the man.
“Remember our goals. You wanted her alive. We have too much at stake,” Martin soothed. “Let’s get you a hot bath.”
She nodded her massive head and turned one last time to glare at me before trotting away at his side. The minute she was out of sight, several women hurried to collect what was left of her clothing. They understood what was expected of them.
I realized then that another window-of-opportunity had opened wide. No one seemed interested in me, and the red wig was splayed across my feet.
Taking advantage of my latest window, I reached down and made a show of massaging my calves while stuffing the tangled mess up the pant leg of my jeans, thankful I wasn’t wearing one of my skinny-legged pairs.
Curious, several women continued to stare at me. I rubbed my legs and rotated my hips from side to side before returning to an upright position. I kneaded my lower back and grimaced.
“Are you okay?” A blonde asked, her striking blue eyes mirroring concern.
“Stiff. Too much tension I guess.” I rotated my shoulders.
Her eyes moved from my face and darted around the lobby. She started to speak, but grimaced instead when Jazmine’s two musclemen rounded the corner, flanking me. Each grasped an elbow, squeezing harder than the situation warranted.
The blonde woman dropped her head to stare at the floor, avoiding any further eye contact.
I was more than irritated by the men’s’ intimidating attitudes. “Stop it! You’re hurting me!” I snapped. Not only was I annoyed, but I was also getting sick and tired of being manhandled and bossed around. I wanted my old life back. And if that wasn’t possible, I wanted to at least hear what the blonde had to say and adjust my plans if necessary.
“You’re lucky The Mistress didn’t …” the tallest drew his fingernail across his jugular, adding semi-realistic gurgling effects.
“Wow. So mature,” I muttered. Despite their physical prowess, these guys were lacking in the intelligence department.
Several women smiled, encouraging me. One slapped a hand over her mouth, forcing what might have been laughter into submission. The majority still looked shaken, and a few appeared alarmed by the situation. I couldn’t wait to find out why they were being held.
Ignoring my last remarks, my terrifying tour guides steered me down a long corridor. The tall rude mutant, on my left, was without doubt leaving imprints where his fingers pressed mercilessly into my upper arm.