Their Thief

Twenty-four

Luca King

I exit the car with Damaris in my arms. When I lift us both out her legs wrap around my waist involuntarily in fear that I'll drop her. The feel of her delicate body against my hard muscles sends a pulse of lust through me.

I carry her towards my brothers who are watching us- or more specifically me- with eyes that hold jealousy. I come to a stop between the two and slide her down the length of my body to the ground. Once she's firmly standing on her feet she struggles against my arms that are wrapped around her torso- trying to free herself.

I feel pain bloom in my heart at her actions, but what else should I expect. We- her tormentors- just told her that we aren't humans, that we are literally the monsters she see us as. I would be worried if she didn't fear us- if she didn't react at all, because although we broke her, her reactions- no matter how much they pain us- show us that we can fix our missteps. Slowly and with great difficulty, we can fix the damage we have done to her. If she had completely shut down on us, I couldn't say the same.

I remember one of our warriors. He was a tough individual; one of our strongest men. He was among those we would send to deal with the hardest of tasks and would return stronger with each that he completed successfully- until he didn't.

Those who oppose us are terrified of us, but those that are under our rule are given our protection. After being sent to eradicate a serious threat that threatened to kill one of the packs under our protection he failed to return. He was missing for months, leaving his recently found mate a bundle of hope and despair. She was the only reason we hadn't ruled him as dead because she hadn't felt the bond sever.

One day our border guards had found his battered body on the outskirts of our territory. His wounds showed signs of extreme torture and that was the only thing we could decipher happened because once he woke up he wouldn't look or talk to anyone, not even his mate. He just blankly stared at the wall across from him. Whatever they did to him had broken him. A strong warrior conditioned to experience and survive extreme circumstances- broken. His mate, the only one who would have been able to bring him back- to fix him- couldn't. She was there 24/7 by his side for months, but he wouldn't respond, wouldn't look at her. The mate bond, the strongest connection one can have with another wasn't strong enough to undo the damage that was done to him.

Eight months after we found him he hung himself when his mate left him alone to go bathe.

I shudder at the thought of seeing that same dead look in Damaris' eyes. Disgust fills me at the fact that we almost made her a hollow shell of herself. If we had, I doubt anything we do would be able to bring her back to us. We would spend our endless years trying to bring the real her back. To catch a glimpse of who our mate truly is- to see what we destroyed.

Alec tears his eyes away from Damaris first to look up at the eerie-looking structure in front of us. It looks like an updated version of the Adam's family house. The whole place screams creepy witch coven. Looks like some people like to live up to their stereotypes.

Alec starts walking towards the house first, leaving us to follow. I place the back of my curled fingers at the base of Damaris' spine to lead her forward. A smile lifts the corners of my lips when I feel her shiver at my touch before taking a few hurried steps to distance herself from me. Jace follows behind us while we following after Alec.

My eyes never stray from Damaris as she walks in front of me. Despite wearing my loose shirt that falls to the middle of her thighs, I can't stop my eyes from wandering over her hips and ass as they gently sway with each step she takes.

I feel like I'm in a hypnotic trance caused by her body when a sharp jab to my side causes me to groan in pain before shooting daggers at the one responsible.