Keeping My Pack Read online

  KEEPING MY PACK

  LANE WHITT

  Copyright © 2016 Lane Whitt

  All Rights Reserved

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Design: © L.J. Anderson, Mayhem Cover Creations

  Formatting by Mayhem Cover Creations

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  ISBN-13: 978-1534786936

  ISBN-10: 1534786937

  For Amanda, Zoe and Ryan. My own loosely formed pack that has been there for me for support and encouragement. Each of you inspires me every day.

  Thank you to all the readers who have left reviews, sent me messages and shared your love for the first book. Thanks to the all the other Reverse-Harem authors who have welcomed me into our small group of support and dedicated readers, you guys are amazing and so talented, and I’m honored to be a part of it.

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  About the Author

  My name is Kitten. I am a prisoner. I love eight men. Two of them are dead. I will never see any of them ever again. My name is Kitten. I am a prisoner. I love eight men. Two of them are dead. I will never see any of them ever again. My name is Kitten. I am a prisoner. I love eight men. Two of them are dead. I want to see them again more than anything.

  NO! I shout at myself. You said it wrong, now we have to start all over again. My name is Kitten… Wait. When did we start referring to ourselves as we? There, you did it again. No... I did it again. Just me. I’ve been here too long. Having conversations with yourself means you’re crazy right? God. I hope I’m one of those crazy people who are blissfully ignorant, not the tormented kind. You’ve never been that lucky. If I tell myself to shut up, will I listen?

  “You’re getting worse.” I look up into bland gray eyes. The same eyes I have seen every day for…well, who knows how long. The sad looking face looking back at me is yet another reason I have completely lost my marbles. Remy visits me, or I guess his ghost does. He always asks the same question.

  “What do you want most Kitten?” I just stare at him. Drinking in each of his features while I can. I used to answer him. I used to shout out all the things I wanted. You. To go home. To escape. The list is endless really; I want anything other than to be here. No one’s life is easy, mine certainly never was, but I don’t think humanity was built for this type of torture. No one should have to go through this. I’ve asked myself countless times whether or not I really want to survive it. The only thing that keeps me going sometimes is that thought that six of the eight men I love are somewhere on the other side of that door. That thought also crushes me until I find it hard to breathe. If it weren't for me, then Remy and Tristan would still be alive, they’d still be happy. If it weren't for them, I wouldn’t expect anything other than the life I’m being forced to live. I could give in. But because of them, I never will.

  I reach my hand out to ghost Remy, watching as he drifts away like a cloud of smoke. It never hurts any less when leaves. His departure is a reminder that he only exists in my messed up mind now. The strong, faithful leader of my pack of wolves is no more. It’s a knife to my heart.

  I hear the chains on the outside of the door rattle. Telling me it’s time to try and escape again. I try every time someone comes in, but I never made it past the white bathroom. They expect it now, and I don’t hold out hope of escape anymore. I do it for two reasons. Remy won’t return until I try again and really; what else am I doing? I get beaten and whipped each time of course, but I’ve become numb to it. I think my brain knows that it hurts, but it’s just a routine now. The same routine, every day, again and again.

  The chains rattle, I try to escape, I’m beaten and left with breakfast food. The chains rattle, I try to escape, I’m whipped, and Adam comes in with a sandwich and talks. The chains rattle, I try to escape, I’m beaten, then led to the white bathroom where I shave, shower and dress for dinner.

  It’s the dinners I hate the most. Uncle and Adam are always seated at an elegantly laid table. The room is stuffy, with old portraits in gold frames lining the walls. The dishes are delicate and easily breakable. Guards line the back wall with two stationed on either side of the entranceway. Each night, I take my seat across from Adam with Uncle taking the position at the head of the table. They pretend like I’m not a prisoner, but a guest here. They talk pleasantly to me and each other. After that first night, I know not to touch any of the food. I never do. Food sickens me now. I don’t need it to live; they supply their blood whenever they think I’m about to die of starvation. Eating the food means Adam gets to touch me. I’ll never forget that first night.

  I walk into the stuffy room; several men are standing about the room, but what grabs my attention are the two who are seated. Both Adam and Uncle are donning full suits. Uncle looks like he belongs in one while Adam looks like his is trying to strangle him. They both stand and smile at me. I squeak and try to flee the room. Two men whom I didn’t notice before are behind me, blocking my exit. They don’t touch me, just gesture for me to turn around and sit.

  “Don’t be afraid. Here…come sit.” Adam says in an amused tone. Like I just did something funny.

  I glance behind me at the two mountains of men. They aren’t moving. I swallow thickly and tentatively move towards Adam where he stands behind an empty chair. He pushes it in as I sit.

  “You are a guest at my table, and I expect you to act as such,” Uncle tells me. I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing.

  I glance around me, wondering how far away from the door we are. I wish there were windows in here. Uncle and Adam start a conversation about God knows what. I don’t want to talk to them. I’m confused about what is going on here. After a short time, three men dressed in weird suits enter the room, carrying silver trays. Somehow, they manage to place the trays in front of each of us at the exact same time. The man who has my silver tray lifts the dome thing, revealing a bowl of soup. Soup? You’d think rich people would eat better than this. Even so, my stomach rumbles loudly. I like soup.

  Adam laughs, drawing my attention. “I take it you like the soup. Go ahead, eat up.” I briefly wonder if they poisoned mine, but if they wanted me dead, I would be already. I stare at the array of silverware sitting next to my tray. Does it matter which one I use? A spoon is a spoon, right? I take the biggest one, more food per bite. Makes sense to me.

  I devour my soup in minutes, licking the bowl clean. I should be grateful for my tiny bowl of soup, but my stomach begs me for more. When the man comes to take my tray, I catch a satisfied smile on Adam’s face. He shares a look with Uncle. They must also like the soup.

  “Adam tells me
you are a relatively accomplished figure skater. Is this correct?” Uncle asks.

  When I don’t answer, he continues anyway. “Any other accomplishments? Talents?”

  I stare at him while the men take away their trays as well. Uncle slams his hand down on the table, making the silverware jump. “Answer me!” He shouts.

  “No,” I answer hastily.

  “Figures.” His tone is dripping with contempt.

  “At least she has beauty.” Adam chuckles nervously.

  “And good blood running through her veins.” Uncle agrees.

  I answer the few questions directed my way after that. They both seem content that I don’t speak much. It turns out that the soup was just one of many courses served. Salad, lamb something or other, chicken stuffed with cheese, pudding. I hated to admit it but the meal was pretty good, not to Tristan’s standards, but good.

  “Now then, now that you have eaten, the fun can begin. That wasn’t so hard, now was it Kitten?” Adam asks as he wipes his mouth and stands.

  “Katerina.” Uncle corrects. He slides his chair back but makes no move to stand.

  “Of course, Alpha Ivaskov, Katerina.” Adam soothes. When I realize that he is rounding the table to come to me, I stand and back away.

  The guards block the exit again as strong arms grip both of mine behind me. I gasp at the harshness and suddenness of it. A look over my shoulder tells me that one of the men that was standing against the wall now holds me.

  “Tsk, tsk.” Adam chides as he comes to a stop in front of me. “I told you the rules, you eat, and I touch. That was a fine meal you devoured like a fat kid in a candy shop; I deserve way more than one. Don’t you agree, Uncle?” I glance over at the older man from the corner of my eye. He looks bored.

  Uncle carelessly waves a hand at Adam. “Do what you will boy.” An attendant brings out a box and Uncle takes a cigar out of it, the attendant lighting it for him.

  “It doesn’t have to be this way, you know,” Adam whispers. “I could make it feel nice for you; you could learn to enjoy it.” His fingers trail along my jaw to my cheek. I close my eyes, trying to imagine it’s one of my guys. But I can’t. It’s not them, and my body knows it.

  “Let her go,” Uncle commands the guard holding me. “If she’s to be your mate boy, you better well learn to handle her yourself. Can’t have men present every time you wish to fuck her now can you?” The older man laughs harshly at his own joke, others in the room joining him. Adam gets a hard glint in his eye at his words.

  The guard releases me and Adam instantly backs me against the table. His hips pin me in place as one of his hands wrap around my hair and pull hard enough to make tears come to my eyes. With my head jerked back, my neck is exposed, and he takes full advantage. I feel his slimy tongue running down my throat before I feel his teeth scrape against my pulse.

  A loud growl makes him jerk his head away from me. “No consuming her blood before you’re mated boy!” Uncle shouts at him.

  Adam’s face is angrier than it was before. He takes a step away sighing impatiently. “Fine then,” He says just as he grips the front of my dress with both hands and tears the fabric in half, down to my waist.

  I gasp and try to make my escape again, only to be shoved face first into the table, bent over. I try to push myself up, but he’s stronger than me.

  “There you go son, make her submit,” Uncle says in an excited voice. “Make that bitch take it.”

  I struggle for a while as others in the room laugh at the scene in front of them. I eventually have to give up, tired. Adam runs a hand up and down the length of my spine. “There you go. My submissive whore all laid out for me, just as you should be.” His voice is a husky whisper, which oddly scares me more than when he yells.

  I feel utterly helpless, made worse by so many witnesses. They could stop him, but they choose not to. I suppose I should be used to that, but I’ll always hold out hope that there is good in people, somewhere. The man who claims to be my family is sitting there in his chair avidly watching this happen to his supposed blood. Maybe there are some people beyond hope. Maybe this is the point Reed was trying to make.

  “Uncle,” I call out to him in a shaky voice.

  I hear a groan before he responds. “What?”

  “You call yourself my Uncle. Is this true? Am I really your niece?” I ask him desperate for him to stop this, to save me.

  “Yes. Now shut up, you’re ruining the show.” More laughter and chuckles sound around the room.

  Tears prick my eyes, but I have to keep trying. “How you can sit there, watching this happen to your niece? You’re an Alpha; you can stop this!” I yell hysterically. I hear his chuckle, and it makes me angry. “How can you possibly protect your pack if this is how you treat family!” I shout before a sob wracks my body.

  Before I know what is happening, Adam is shoved back, and Uncle has one arm around my hips, turning me around to face him while his other hand is wrapped around my throat. “You will watch your words, or so help me, girl, I will snap your neck.” He spits in my face.

  “No, you won’t,” I whisper defiantly.

  He turns me to face Adam. My exposed breasts seem to have all of his attention. Adam steps forward, his hands going to my chest. I rock my body side to side, trying to get out of this hold. Uncle won’t release me, and Adam doesn’t retract his hands. Instead, he moves his body closer, pinning me against both of the monsters.

  “Don’t stop struggling now, little girl, I was enjoying it quite a bit. This is all you will ever be, just a whore, a little breeder slut for Adam, and whenever he’s through with you, whoever else I choose.” Uncle whispers in my ear as he grinds himself against me.

  Tears streak down my face. Angry tears. My faith in justice in this cruel world is gone. “Why aren’t you stopping this?” I shout to the guards and attendants stationed throughout the room. “There are more of you than them!” I don’t know if they can understand me through my sobs, but I don’t care.

  I notice a few of them drop their eyes in shame. “Oh, no. Don’t you dare look away! You know it’s wrong! But I’m not your wife, not your daughter, or your mother, not even your friend, so you don’t have to care right?” I break into wracking sobs as Adam uses his fingers to inch up my dress.

  With nowhere to cover my face, as Adam’s shoulder is in front of me and Uncle’s shoulder is behind me, I turn my head and glare at the guard by the door. “You should be ashamed of yourself. You are not a man. A man would stop this. You and everyone else here are cowards. Useless, the lot of you!” The man hangs his head, looking at the floor. I look around, noticing that almost every one of them is doing the same. Except for one attendant who is doing something weird with eyes. He’s looking at me, then at the table next to me. Again and again, he does this.

  I finally look to where his eyes keep going. There, on the table is a knife! It’s a butter knife, but a weapon all the same. I let my hands drop from where I’ve been uselessly trying to push Adam away. I let them hang there for a moment so neither one of the monsters won’t think I’m up to something. Not that I think they would, they both seem to be giving my body all of their attention.

  Ignoring the feel of their hands on me, I reach out quickly, gripping the butter knife as hard as I can. Adam just managed to get the bottom of my dress up over my butt, eliciting a loud growl from Uncle as he squeezes the life out of me and grinds harder against my backside. Adam’s hand is running up the inside of my thigh.

  “Adam,” I whisper. His eyes look clouded when they glance up into mine. That’s all I needed. I bring my hand up and put all the strength I can behind it. A sickening popping sounds as the knife penetrates his right eyeball. Moving quickly, I pull the knife back out and swiftly jam it down into Uncle’s thigh. They both stumble back, shouting in pain. I run as fast as I can to the doorway, noticing that the attendant takes a step in front of one of the guards that're reaching for me.

  That’s all I remember from my first dinner
. When I woke up, I was back in the concrete room, my body broken worse than ever before. A long time had passed before anyone opened the door. No food, water, blood, anything. It was during those days when Remy started showing up. He’d ask me what I wanted most, and I’d tell him. I’d beg and cry for him to stay with me. He never would, and eventually, I was made to go to dinners again. I was only given a spoon after that, but it didn’t matter, I didn’t eat. I didn’t talk. Just to keep it lively, every now and then I try to attack them again. I haven’t been able to hurt them as badly as before but still, I get satisfaction every time I see an expensive plate shatter over Adam’s head or a hot bowl of soup lands on Uncle. They wanted an animal, and now I have become one.

  Kellan

  It’s been nine weeks since I last laid eyes on Kitten. There’s a constant ache in my chest, a tight feeling as if someone is squeezing the life right out of me. As a doctor, I know it’s just my worry for her taking a physical form. The worry for her, worry for my brothers and worry for myself.

  I’ve done my best to try to hold this family together while searching for her. Remington feels so much guilt for losing her that he’s losing his ability to lead as an Alpha. Ash wants to punish the people who took her so badly that he’s taking his anger out on the rest of us. We mostly just stay as far away from him as we can. My twin is beyond devastated, which is understandable since he had just told her he had loved her before she was taken. Finn has become a robot, doing his tasks in a mechanical fashion. I just don’t know how much longer we can go on like this.

  My brothers and I were used to the quiet and mundane life we led before Kitten came into our lives. I’m not sure any of us realized we were growing dead inside over the years. Seeing them, how they were with her, how we were with her, brought us back to ourselves and it was exhilarating. Now, I notice the absence of Tristan’s laughter, the sometimes annoying chatter of Logan as he discusses the do’s and oh hell no’s of the fashion industry. I feel how much Finn has retreated into himself and father away from me over the decades. I see how badly Ash needs someone to protect for him to feel whole. As for me, I feel as though I had forgotten that caring for others is not always done with physical examinations and medical procedures. For a while there, when we had her, I had had thoughts of giving her a bath, of rubbing lotion into her beautiful skin to keep it creamy and smooth. Of making her a hot cup of tea and massaging her tiny feet after a bad day. Just little things to show her that I cared for her and enjoyed having her around. The thought of never getting to share my feelings with her is almost more than I can stand.