Resurrecting The Beast [Werescape Book II] Read online

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  New Concepts Publishing

  www.newconceptspublishing.com

  Copyright ©2011 by Skhye Moncrief

  First published in 2011, 2011

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

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  RESURRECTING THE BEAST

  By

  Skhye Moncrief

  (C) copyright August 2011, Skhye Moncrief

  Cover art by Eliza Black, August 2011

  New Concepts Publishing

  Lake Park, GA 31636

  www.newconceptspublishing.com

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  This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

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  Chapter One

  Post-apocalyptic Earth: The Wild, after alien invasion, AEI, 2065 AD

  Life has gone to Hell in two generations. Extraterrestrials altered the human genome, splitting humanity into two subspecies of humans, Shifters and Normals. Sometimes Shifters and Normals work together for survival in cities or remote villages. Other times they war for dominance. Regardless of the outcome, they must survive and fight against human enslavement. Hunted by aliens for breeding stock, Shifters understand this the most. Especially, Wolf males..

  Riding hogtied, slung over a saddle, wearing a blindfold wasn't bad enough for Sylvie Drake. No. Having one's ass patted on top of the fact you were being transported like a deer carcass was pretty much the shits, she thought. But what could a girl do? I'd spent the last four months hiding from my father's cruel little plan for my future. Running. My ass off. From coast to coast across what was left of the United States. And finally wound up captured by freaking Prophets somewhere between Montana and the Pacific Ocean for the sweet bounty my warlord father, the dictator, slapped on my head. And, apparently, he didn't add anything to the particulars about not manhandling my ass.

  Oh, there the bastard goes again. This time his fingers thrust between my legs. Thank God for leather pants. “Can you see your future?” I growled. “You're a dead man, Prophet.” Disgusting scum of the Earth. I needed my legs free so I could kick his repulsive jewels.

  Laughter erupted all around me.

  If only I could think with my throbbing head.

  Hanging half-ass upside down wasn't normal by any means for a human.

  Probably not for a Shifter either. But I was so damned Normal that I'd never have the luxury of knowing otherwise. Why didn't I try to coax one of Father's Guardians along on my little escapade to freedom? Hell, Maximus, Adder, or Coyote would have come with me. All three Shifters had shown more than enough interest in the top dog's daughter. Grant it. I was actually a princess in Father's little kingdom. More like a spoiled child who turned brat and ran for her life. And, God knows, Father's Shifters knew better than to even look at me wrong. But Maximus. Oh, Maximus...

  Damn, I really screwed that chance up. I should have just told him there was nothing in the world like him. A Shifter mate nobody would have crossed with all his brains and brawn. And the sex appeal! But I had to go and worry about Father's temper. Stupid me.

  Stupid!

  Surely not even Father would have jacked with me once a Shifter bound himself to me. So much for a good plan. God knows my current strategy had gotten me ass-up with Prophets groping said butt.

  At least three hands brushed across my ass.

  "Take off her pants. I want to fuck her with my fingers,” some bastard droned.

  Shit. “You do anything that perverted, and I'll tell my father. He won't pay you a cent. He probably won't anyway. He'll lure you into a trap and kill you with his Shifters. You stupid inbred Christian fucks."

  A hand popped my ass. “Shut your mouth."

  "Why?” I snapped. “Because the truth hurts?” Hell, my tender ass did where he struck it.

  "Get her off that damned horse, Tom!"

  Well, maybe I finally pissed them off? This wouldn't be the first time I said too much. But what would they do to me? Rape me? Slit me open? No. They can still trade me if they raped me. But I can escape.

  Yes, quit groaning about rape and find a way to escape.

  My horse, Father's favorite half-Arabian stallion, Valiant, halted.

  Time to alter plan.

  Escape.

  How many were there? Seven? Eight? The fact they'd blindfolded me so quickly meant any number of them could have joined the group afterward, and I'd never be the wiser. But, God, I was a virgin. I should have just let one of the men back home do me a favor and release me from that little burden. Too bad Shifters had such a high sense of honor.

  Someone grabbed my hands and started sawing on the rope beneath Valiant's belly.

  Keep mouth shut until absolutely necessary.

  Don't set them off.

  The rope broke free.

  Someone grabbed the waistband of my leather pants and yanked me backward. I slid off the saddle like the time-worn leather was buttered with pig fat. Not good when still quasi-hogtied with my wrists and ankles together like a pig.

  My ass hit the ground.

  Pain flared through my hips.

  But my hands were free enough to shove the blindfold off of one eye.

  A wall of horse and human legs caged me in.

  What's next? I stared at the mixture of blue jeans, buckskin, and fabrics from before the alien invasion and tried not to slide my gaze up to look above the long shaggy beards Prophets wore. Probably infested with lice. Ugh.

  Bite tongue.

  Chew cheek.

  Say nothing. I'd set them off enough already. Looking them in the eye had to be challenging. After all, Father always went nuclear when someone did it to him.

  "What should we do with her, Pa?"

  Oh his bulging eyes made him a treasure.

  "I say let's plant God's seed,” a short bow-legged older guy with dirt smeared on his cheek said.

  "Will Drake take her if we do?” a wispy older man with a long face asked.

  Excellent point.

  "Aw, shut up Joe. You're such a whiner,” the short guy droned.

  That was all I needed. I scanned the scraggly faces until I found the one most senior. Pa? “The bounty is contingent upon my state of existence. My Father is marrying me off to a Lord who wants a virgin wife. You take that bartering chip away and you toss the reward for me as well."

  The man's brown eyes pinched slightly.

  Knowingly.

  "What's contingent, Pa?” a mousy-haired brawny and much younger male asked at Pa's shoulder.

  "It means dependent upon,” a black-haired Prophet snarled at the obviously dumber one.

  "Shut up,” Pa barked and eyed me from boot to ponytail. “You've got one chance Sylvie. You get all of us or the one who catches you. And if you're lucky, you won't be breeding when we trade you to Drake. But that ass of yours is going to take a whipping for your curt mouth."

  A devilish grin split the cheeks of the
dumb one's face.

  Dear. God. Did that mean he was the fastest?

  "Get her on her feet,” Pa ordered.

  Someone yanked me upward until my bound ankles were supporting my body weight.

  Talk about holy shits.

  One crab-infested Prophet bent to my boots and sawed at my bindings.

  "She's mine,” the dumb one said.

  How many bastards had he sired?

  Why did I run away from Father? Oh, yeah. My intended was a rapist too!

  The ropes broke at my ankles.

  "Okay, Virgin, get running,” Pa growled.

  Think fast. About surviving. “I can't run with my hands tied.” I thrust them at him.

  All eyes fell to my wrists and swung to Pa's arched brow.

  "You're kidding?” he snarled.

  Not at all. “It won't be much fun or fair for everyone if I can't take more than two steps and am floored. Will it?"

  "Come on, Pa. Cut ‘em,” Dumb said.

  "That's not the way we do things. You get five minutes to high-tail your ass outta here. Before I let,” he waved at the dumb one, “Jonas go."

  Now I really needed my hands free. “Well,” I met Jonas’ dirty black gaze, dropped me gaze to the bulging crotch of his pants to emphasize my point, and swung it back to his empty eyes, “you don't want them all catching me at the same time. Do you, big guy?"

  "I can get her, Pa,” Jonas droned.

  Idiot. But using his intelligence against him just might save my virginal ass.

  Pa nodded.

  Someone sawed me wrists free.

  "Run,” Pa shouted.

  There were times when I'd wished I'd followed my mother's coaxing to hang out in her chapel and open some conduit between God and myself where his energy jolted me into some fortunate empowered female. Other times, I wished I'd just have tackled Maximus. But neither points of reflection were going to save my ass at the moment. I stretched my legs, shoved past a grungy Prophet's shoulder reeking of body odor that had to be emanating from the sweat rings encircling the pits of his plaid shirt.

  I could have suffocated holding my breath in trying to hear footsteps from anyone in heated pursuit. But running made your body kick into automatic. All I could hear were the soles of my black leather boots snapping twigs and leaves, the gusty breeze, and my own desperate breathing. A necessity to keep me propelling my legs forward.

  I could run. I always could. Running always made me feel free.

  For how long though?

  The way my lungs begged for air meant I was royally screwed.

  Literally.

  I tried to keep Jonas’ idiot look in my mind. To keep plowing forward.

  Where in the hell could I hide?

  Beast had seen this sad turn of events before from where he hid among the lodge pole pines. The Prophets often loosed their captives in the forest, probably a demented take on Divine Intervention where the recaptured is deemed guilty by the act of being caught, and the prey is hunted down and sacrificed to the greater good of Prophet dogma. But this is the first time I'd seen them do such a thing with a woman. She was lean and curvy enough to lure the bastards completely across country in hopes of bagging her. And her finely-fitted leather shouted bucks. Whoever paid for that clothing had handed over quite a bit of money.

  No. It couldn't be.

  The bounty?

  Warlord Drake's daughter. She had the right color of hair. Chestnut. Straight. Shorter, swinging barely down to her shoulder blades. Although she could have cut it since she escaped. And the clothing reeked of wealth. I'd have to see if any of her possessions were marked as Normal royalty. Maybe a horse? The one she'd been tied onto had a bit of Arabian in the carving of his finely-chiseled skull. Maybe...

  She worked her way beneath the ridge I squatted upon.

  Running like her life depended on it, making foolish noise, leaving a trail.

  Suddenly, the Prophets burst into motion.

  Those bastards ran like men after tail. Throw in how her stride looked like she didn't want her tail propped up for their pleasure and a man didn't have to put two and two together. She needed her own little Divine Intervention.

  It wasn't any of my business interfering.

  Hell, my banishment was for isolation.

  To step in meant I might foul up someone's life again.

  My inner Wolf snarled and clawed his vote for the chase.

  But he always snarled to join in the chase.

  Or something else now.

  Been there countless times before. I knew better. My Wolf wanted tail. And if I intervened, her tail would have to rely on me for survival for awhile. Could I trust myself to rein in the Wolf? To keep from marking her? The Gods know the last thing I needed was a curvaceous temptation lurking in my cave when a mate was forbidden to me.

  The Prophets were closing ground between the woman and, Gods-be-damned, that big stupid fuck Jonas.

  Oh, Jonas was a real prize to humanity. That sad example of the Normals’ gene pool needed to have his cock ripped off. The last thing humanity dared risk was another drop of his seed melding in their quickly diminishing pond, AEI.

  Okay. I'd have to save her.

  Why did everything fall on my shoulders? I rose and hopped into a slide down the steeply-sloping eroded hillside.

  Dirt and rock debris rattled down the inclined surface ahead of the toe of my brown boot.

  Surely the Prophets could hear the racket. Nobody veered from their path though. They all headed straight for her through the stretch of tall bare lodge-pole pine tree trunks casting a shadow aside from the standard Douglas fir of the eastern Oregon forest.

  What was her name? It began with an S. Or a C. Hell. What did names matter? I'd dump her little tail at Tornado's door before nightfall tomorrow and wipe my hands clean of the remote mountain village and she-demon before she twisted my life even more. She was trouble. Just look at the mess she'd gotten herself into.

  My boots jolted at the bottom of the slope.

  My Wolf clawed for release.

  I sucked in a snuffing breath and tried to kill my Wolf.

  Had to kill my Wolf.

  Couldn't shift.

  Didn't deserve to shift.

  I could save her with both hands tied behind my back. I gritted my teeth.

  Forget it Wolf. I charged toward the gnarled wood of a tall pine trunk.

  Sylvie tripped over a massive decomposing moss-covered log and fell on one hip. I'm dead, she thought. That cretin slug with his mindless grin would be here any moment. Shit. Little Sylvie wouldn't gestate one Prophet bastard if her life depended upon it. This womb was reserved for genius use only. Not that a girl could find one easily, AEI. But, I had no intention of giving up the hunt!

  Give me a freaking chance, life.

  If I could only breath enough air to shove off the forest's mat of pine needles.

  Something shifted along the edge of a brown tree trunk.

  Jonas. And his stupid grin.

  He laughed.

  Shit. I rolled and pushed with all my might.

  I must have been high on adrenaline because my ass was back tearing through the forest.

  "I'm gonna peel your pants off, bitch. I'm gonna fill your pussy with my seed, then your ass, and finally cum down your throat until you puke up your guts. Then I'm giving you to my kin until my balls are ready to burst again."

  Oh, where was my knife or guns? On their damned horses. And where did a Prophet learn all those lovely threats? At a prayer meeting?

  Something crashed behind me.

  Close. Too close. I shot a glance over my shoulder.

  My toe snagged on something. The world blurred and rushed up to meet me. My knee hit the soft pine needle matting in the forest. My body sank into the natural bedding.

  I could barely suck in a breath.

  An enormous tanned bare back laced with bulging muscle, on a man like someone had tied his muscles so tightly that he'd burst out of his skin if he
flinched, blocked my view of Jonas. He held his arms out as if he meant to catch something large.

  A Jonas.

  "Want to play with someone your own size?” the man calmly asked.

  His deep voice made my body hum.

  Only Maximus talked like that.

  This man had to be a Shifter. He didn't shave his head like a city Guardian though. Rather kept his copper hair neatly pulled back into a queue with the long tail wrapped in black leather strapping. That was a good sign. Not many Normals groomed their hair. And all Shifters didn't have to guard populations of Normals either. Maybe he worked alone. Or his clan lived out in The Wild?

  A man like him had a family. A mate. Children. A Shifter who fought for the greater good. For preserving an ever-dwindling population of humanity. At least for my sake, a man with honor.

  The footsteps silenced.

  "Get the fuck outta my way, Beast."

  Nice name for a Shifter.

  "I told you to play with someone your own size.” Beast's voice never fluctuated from the calm steady tone he used the first time he spoke.

  "She's mine,” Jonas snarled.

  "Then why is she running like the forest's ablaze? You have two choices, Jonas. Fight and die. Or run and die. And my Wolf is clawing for a chase."

  "Don't piss off Pa."

  "I've been looking for a reason to kill his mangy ass for two years. Just call Pa on over."

  A deadly growl pealed.

  A force rammed into and shoved Beast an inch backward. But his muscles strained, twisting.

  Something snapped. Softly. Beast's arms fell away, dropping the limp Prophet into a mound of meat.

  None too soon.

  Pa's entourage of groping hands arrived. Beast didn't shift. He merely took them on, knife in hand, and cut down the lot of them with a few snarls and a growl, then stood there waiting. As if expecting Pa to show.

  Should I get my feet beneath me? I crawled around, angling a foot beneath a knee, and shoved up to face Beast. “He's a coward. He'll have everyone else do his dirty work.” Just like my father and my betrothed.

  The towering muscles froze. “Life isn't about standing alone, Little Bit. It's about fighting for the greater good. Repaying debts.” He didn't turn to me but just let me stew in his point.