The trunk was small but I tried to find a weapon, like a crowbar or something. Of course there was nothing in there. I remembered hearing that newer cars had trunk releases on the inside.
It was completely dark inside, but I felt my the entire front of me. There was nothing. Just carpet, not even a keyhole. Like it had been bolted there as an afterthought. Son of a bitch made it break away proof.
At this point, all kinds of scenarios were playing out in my head. My internal panic mode was setting alarms off, and I was starting to sweat. Screaming at the top of my lungs, I started beating the inside of the trunk. Music drowned out my voice. I clawed at the carpet that covered the top of the lid until one of my fingernails snapped off. The burn and pain of it was nothing like what I felt inside.
Sobbing, I curled up as much as I could, and cried myself to sleep.
Chapter Four
Havoc
When she started screaming, I turned the radio on. I couldn’t stand hearing her sad. Fuck if I knew why. Usually I feasted on that.
This drive always gave me ample time to think. I would have to keep her alive for at least a couple of weeks. I mean, I had plenty of food still from my last hunt.
If the guys asked, that was how I would justify it since we don’t keep our prey. Not that I had to justify myself, I thought, but the thought still niggled in the back of my mind that yes, I did.
Pulling up to the cabin, I was relieved, and curious. She was definitely docile compared to the other meat I had grabbed. When I poked her in the side with the handle of my screw driver, I could feel her body stiffen.
I wondered if she would test the theory if it was a gun, since she actually hadn’t seen it. She didn’t. She just believed, because in her mind, it felt like what she presumed the firearm would feel like.
Opening the trunk with a small smirk on my face, I couldn’t help but think how serene she looked curled up, sleeping and murmuring something. “Mmm, Prince come here…”
Did she just fucking say Prince?
Marseille
I was having a lovely dream about Prince Charming coming and taking my hand. I could hear myself saying his name. I was right on the edge of consciousness when you are still on the last vestiges of sleep but slowly starting to wake up.
Smiling as drool was sliding down my lip, my eyes started to peep open when I was talking to my knight in shining armor. I opened my eyes, blinking a few times, trying to get my muddled thoughts together.
As I saw my handsome man, I knew I must still be dreaming, so I reached my hand out to him, “There you are Prince Charming.”
An abrupt bark of a laugh made me wake up, and then the truth slammed back into me.
“Prince fucking charming,” he guffawed.
Looking at him, I waited to see what he was going to do. We had a staring contest for what seemed an eternity, but in reality was probably only a few minutes.
He reached down unceremoniously, wrapped his beefy arm around me, then picked me up like I was a sack of potatoes.
“I know how to walk,” I said sullenly.
“I know, I’ve watched you,” he grunted.
“What? For how long?” I demanded.
A resounding slap sounded on my ass. The sound was louder than the pain. Now I knew what the expression meant when someone said it really smarts when they were in pain. It wasn’t horrendous, but it was a quick holy shit moment. My Oh was all the reaction he got. If he was disappointed, he didn’t show it.
“Was that my cue to shut up?” I enquired.
He stopped, threw me on the ground, jerked me up by my neck, then looked me in the eye.
“You talk a lot,” he said. “If you talk without permission, you will be punished. Harshly.” He emphasized this by yanking my arm and practically dragging me the rest of the way to the cabin.
“Not by a spanking though. You obviously liked that,” he said as an afterthought.
Havoc
I could see the disgust on her face when I mentioned her liking having her ass hit. It seemed my little captive didn’t know she was a sub. Now I felt almost responsible to train her. Besides, I tried to make myself think I was being practical, there really wasn’t any other options for childbearing.
Originally when our fathers started this lifestyle, no one thought of the long term. Then it was decided that the daughters could be wives of the men so that way everyone had a duty.
Unfortunately, there were more men then women. Which was why Wren seemed to be his perfect mate. Until she wasn’t.
I treated her with all the respect any wife deserved. Not any more, not any less. I only asked she respect our way of life, and bear my children. Why that was such a hardship on her, I will never know. She should’ve viewed it as the honor it was.
The morning I woke up to shouting, my heart sank when I saw my father lying on top of her, holding her down, covered in blood, struggling to get a knife out of her hand.
Not knowing the whole situation, I rushed over to wrestle the knife from her hand. My father was able to untangle himself once I had the weapon.
I looked at them both, not sure if she attacked him or if he attacked her. Glancing at her dog box I had made her sleep in the past month, I saw she had figured out how to get the screw out of the top of the box as it was sitting askew on its side.
“Fucking whore just killed your son.”
My father was pissed. I looked at the venom on her face. She
