The Maverick Pride Tales - Chapter 91: Chapter 91

She’d always worried about her size. Her old Pride had teased her mercilessly for being short and plump, but Michael did not seem to mind. He’d soon laid all her fears to rest by showing her just how much he liked her curvy little frame.
Thank God.
“Hello, Kylie,” a harsh voice reached her ears.
Kylie stopped with her foot midair as a villain from her past came into view. His heavy footsteps as he pushed off the wall, leaving the shadows where he’d been hidden, were like thunder in her ears.
Fear raced up her spine, and suddenly she was a teenaged girl again, bleeding and broken and waiting to die at the hands of her own mother and the Pride that should have loved her. The bastard sneered, liking her fear and Kylie growled a warning.
“Still the same, Kylie. Short and fat, and too stupid to live, ain’t ya, girl?”
Her fear exploded, but she realized it wasn’t for herself. It was for everyone she loved. She swallowed down hard and looked up, knowing it was too late to stop this from happening.
He’d found her.
Waiting at the top of the landing was Waylon Pitt. He wore the same scraggly-looking beard as he’d had three years earlier, and his scent was positively unmistakable. She scrunched up her nose, barely stopping herself from covering it with her hands. He was older, uglier, and smellier than ever as he stepped out of the shadowed hall.
Good Lord, she wondered how she hadn’t noticed it before. Her she-Tiger snarled at his approach, but the cretin wheezed a laugh.
“Guess that cloaking spell I bought really worked, didn’t it, girl? Didn’t even see me comin’, did ya?” Waylon spit on the hallway floor, and Kylie jerked in revulsion.
“What do you want?” Kylie bit out the question, backing down a step.
The sounds of someone behind her had her head whipping around, and she startled. A younger male Tiger, one she did not recognize appeared, and he had a shotgun in his hands.
Fuck.
Kylie was surrounded and there was no way she could call for help. Not with these two assholes armed and dangerous.
“I want what I always wanted—what I deserve! I want the Sharp Claw Pride, and you are gonna get it for me!” Waylon hissed, spitting his stink all over the place.
“No, I am not, Waylon. Whatever you might think, I have nothing to do with that Pride, and they have never had anything to do with me. I am not my mother’s daughter. Those people won’t follow you because of me.”
“That’s bullshit! Key to the Pride is with the heir. You are your mother’s daughter,” he growled, reaching over, and grabbing her arm with his claw-tipped hands.
“You can’t do this!”
“Who’s gonna stop me, girl? I’ll have ya now like I shoulda had ya then!”
“No! I’m already mated,” she cried out, but he was already pulling her up the stairs and pressing his foul-smelling body against hers.
“I’ll fuck him right out of you. Fill you with my cum and cover your mate mark with my own,” Waylon snarled, and she could see the craziness in his eyes.
More spittle and filth flew from his mouth, causing more of his stink to reach her. She could not help herself, she gagged. Waylon grinned slowly at her discomfort. His gaze never left hers as he squeezed her forearm, drawing blood.
Kylie whimpered, wanting to shy away from his touch and his feral eyes. They glowed a sickly yellow color that attested to his warped state of mind. The other Tiger behind her pressed the gun into her spine, making it impossible for her to retreat.
“Think about this, Waylon. My Neta’s sister is right below us. She’ll hear,” Kylie pleaded, hoping she was right, and trying desperately not to gag on the stench of both lust and loathing that seemed to leak from the unworthy male.
“I am your Neta,” he growled, and before she could do anything else, Waylon lunged for her.
Kylie’s scream got stuck in her throat. She tried to move, but only her eyes seemed to obey and when she looked down, she saw why.
A syringe was sticking out of her arm, and the plunger was pushed all the way down. Green residue clung to the plastic, but the bulk of it was now swimming in her veins.
“That potion will take the fight right outta ya, little girl. We’ll have an old-fashioned claiming in front of the whole Pride when we get back home. I’ll fuck ya and bite ya, and I will become the Neta for real. You and me, see we belong together, Kylie. Let’s go,” he snarled
She tried to struggle as he gave his accomplice instructions, but her limbs were frozen. She couldn’t talk, couldn’t move, not an inch. Breathing was hard, and when Waylon grabbed her to him, harshly squeezing her breast before tossing her over his shoulder like a side of beef, she thought she was going to puke.
Michael! His face was the only thing in her mind as the bastard stole her from the hallway. She felt tears fall from her frozen, unblinking eyes.
The world seemed to turn round, and she realized he’d opened a window and was climbing down the fire escape with her over his shoulder, like so much dead weight, which she supposed she was.
Fuck. How the hell was she supposed to escape?
“Move,” Waylon growled at his minion. “Start the truck, we need to go now before these city Cats get any ideas.”
Well, that was just great.
Kylie had to abandon all hope of being seen and rescued by Hank, Uncle Uzzi, or even Jessica. She wanted to scream, but couldn’t, still caught in the semi-paralyzed state from the sludge he had injected into her veins.
Her body was immobile, but her mind was racing. She tried not to panic as the two sorry excuses for Tiger Shifters hustled down the ladder and raced around the back of the building to an old beat up pick-up truck.
Waylon tossed her into the cab, forcing her between them. She would have fallen face first into the dashboard if the asshole minion hadn’t grabbed her by the hair to pull her back. She should probably thank the fucker, but could no longer speak. Whatever foul magical concoction Waylon had forced on her, she was now completely paralyzed. Stuck between two disgusting males in a broken down truck littered with fast food wrappers and empty beer cans, Kylie cursed her luck.
How am I going to get out of this?
Every single molecule that made up her being was intent on escaping and getting back home to Michael and the Maverick Pride. Waylon was a lowlife, but he was obviously on the outs with her mother’s old set of leaders.
Otherwise, the fucker would not be there with that single scrawny excuse for a male. Where was his original group of cronies? She had to admit, this surprised her.
He must be fighting everyone for a place in the Pride and the ultimate position as Neta. The younger male with him was probably someone she knew, and for a moment she hoped to reason with him.
With her next breath, she concentrated on filtering out the flavors but came up blank. If this was someone from the Sharp Claw Pride, then she didn’t know him. All she could do was sit and wait while they drove out of town.
Kylie looked at the image of Mount Maverick in the rearview mirror and wanted to scream at the injustice of it all. It was that image that had called to her when she had been on the run. That mountain that had seemed so strong and still in the madness of it all. Had she not seen it, she might not have made the decision to stop in the tiny New Jersey town.
But like Uncle Uzzi said, it was fate. Mount Maverick grew smaller in her rearview, but she was hopeful it would not be the last time she saw it. That image stayed with her as the miles grew longer, leading her away from her true Pride, and her fated mate.
The cruelty of her reality was almost too much to bear. She had so much to live for now, but she would rather die than allow Waylon to make good on his promise to taint her.
“Don’t worry,” sneered Waylon, as if he’d been privy to her inner dialogue. “I’ll get his stink off ya real soon, girl.”
He leaned over and licked her cheek, and she damn near vomited in her mouth.
No! Dear gods, no.
Fear and pain sliced through her as sure as a sword. Her heart was breaking, and as it crumbled into pieces, the poor, abused muscle cried out for her mate.
Michael, please hear me, please know I love you. I have always loved you.
Kylie tried not to shudder as Waylon leaned over again and nipped her ear between his teeth.
“You gonna fuck her soon, Waylon?” the young male asked.
“That’s Neta, asshole!”
“Right, uh, you gonna fuck her soon, Neta?”
The two males started laughing and Kylie wanted to scream. She scented lust and something worse, an evil sort of frenzy that she had never encountered. Her she-Tiger snarled, wanting to come forward, but she could only recoil in the metaphysical plane where she waited.
For some reason, Kylie was unable to call the beast all the way forward. She was trying to find their link through the veil that lead to the plane where her Tiger usually rested until called, but it was like she was hidden in a mist of sorts.
“Don’t bother your kitty now, girl. That shot won’t let her play. Not till after I show her who’s boss,” Waylon explained, yanking her head back by her hair.
What the fuck was with these assholes and her ponytail?
Stars exploded behind her eyes, and she felt the start of a migraine coming down on her. It was unusual for Shifters to have them, but now and then, Kylie suffered terribly.
“Get your she-Cat under my thumb, rough as I gotta be, ya hear? By then you’ll have learned to like it,” he grunted and lifted her hand, licking it with his slimy tongue.
Her stomach roiled, and Kylie wanted to ask how that was even possible. Cats did not have slimy tongues, theirs were dry and perfect. But not him. Something was wrong with Waylon. Something other than the obvious.
“Give it to her now,” he ordered, squeezing her arm and she startled, realizing she had been struggling in his grasp.
“Yes, Wayl-, er, Neta,” the young moron replied.
Kylie struggled harder, but the younger Tiger was not nearly as agreeable as Waylon. He slapped her hard, splitting her lip, and she cried out in pain. It felt good to make a sound, though she hurt like hell.
“Do not fucking touch her again! She is mine!” Waylon bellowed, and she winced at his roar.
“Sorry about that, girl. Ignore Boris here. Now, this second shot should make ya feel real nice, and compliant like.”
“In ya go,” the crazed youth said as he pushed the needle into her vein.
The sludge stung as it went in, and tears rolled down her face, but Kylie continued to focus on the rearview mirror. There was no way she was going to allow herself to be used for this man or any other to rule a Pride that had never done anything but hurt her.
She would die first. If that was going to happen, she wanted the last thing she remembered to be something good. The shadowy image of Mount Maverick was almost still visible, or maybe it was her imagination, but either way, she kept on staring. It was the only place she’d finally felt as if she’d belonged, and if she had a choice, it would be the only place she went home to.
I’m so sorry for everything we won’t get to do, Michael, she thought one last time before darkness took her.