Page 26 of Stolen By the Alpha Hunter (Moonbound Mates #3)

PEACHES

I can feel Javi getting closer as night falls…and he doesn’t seem happy.

My anxiety peaks and crests like waves lapping against the beams of the Rig, a light rain pattering on the roof.

The calm sounds do nothing to cool my nerves, waiting on whatever Javi has learned, knowing it will be something horrible.

I hope I can counterbalance his news with mine—that Boyd got a message out to the Austin pack, and that they’re coming to save us.

It isn’t Javi that comes to the room to get me, but Ephraim, looking just as crabby as he did hours ago. He huffs out a breath when I open a door, then tosses me a raggedy old white dress. I cringe at it, knowing what he’s going to ask before the words leave his mouth.

“Put that on,” he says. “It’s time for dinner.”

“I should wait for Javi,” I say.

“Obey,” he snarls.

Then he slams the door shut.

I pull the dress up to look at it, already dreading switching out Javi’s shirt for this thing. I wonder if I could get away with not doing as I’m told, but I feel like I’m already in hot water, and I don’t want to pick any fights while I wait for the pack to come and save us.

I put the damn thing on, tossing Javi’s shirt on the bed.

I miss his scent already.

When I open the door, Ephraim is standing outside with his arms crossed.

He averts his eyes like he’s disgusted, gesturing at me to follow him.

Voices sound from the direction of the dining room, and I scent Javi on the air as soon as we get close.

I see his broad shoulders a second later, clad in a plain white t-shirt.

He stands and looks at me.

For a second, we’re the only two people in the world.

His green eyes meet mine and I feel a rush of emotion and adrenaline, my wolf howling in tune with his. He doesn’t so much as smile, but I can feel the thrill of affection, of pure, unfiltered lust that passes between us.

Javi lets his eyes roam over my curves for a moment…

…and then it’s over.

And we’re back in the room with Ephraim and Gideon and Abel.

Just like last night.

Hopefully for not too many nights more.

I bow my head and start to pad to the kitchen.

“Esther, wait,” Gideon says.

I pause.

Dread fills me.

“You’re staying at the table tonight,” he says, “at your alpha’s feet.”

I take a deep breath and divert course, then I head toward Javi. There’s something happening here that I don’t understand, something unspoken passing between them. Javi’s hand finds my shoulder, then moves to my collar…then he jerks me down to the ground and kneels.

We exchange a look as he moves his other hand on the floor and something clinks.

A chain.

I think I can read an apology in his eyes and body language, but it doesn’t matter.

My cheeks flush bright red as he anchors me to the floor with a click, making it to where I can’t get up.

I sit on my heels, gripping my hands in my lap, wishing this would all just end and my people would come get me…

“Things have changed around here since you left,” Gideon says as he takes a seat.

I can’t see anything but his feet from where he sits across from Javi, but his presence weighs the whole room down.

He’s an oppressive force, drowning us all.

“Ever since you took our women, we put our mates through a conditioning process—and yours starts today, dear daughter. You’ll eat when Javier says you eat, only from his hand, and you’ll stay silent while the men talk. Now, show your mate you understand.”

I frown, keeping my eyes on the floor.

I nod.

This is what he wants.

Voiceless, agreeable women.

Even though Javi is playing along, I can feel the rage radiating off him, his posture tense. I’m sure he’s plotting ways to kill my father—and at this point, I’m not opposed to it. I hope he won’t do anything to endanger myself, but even I’m getting mad.

Don’t let them steal your sunshine , Tilda’s voice says in my mind.

I breathe through it, trying to set myself at ease, reminding myself my people are coming for me.

“How was the haul today?” Ephraim asks. “Todd said you caught quite a bit.”

“The fish come in droves when there’s fresh bait down below,” Abel laughs. “They’ve had quite the feast.”

Javi’s fist closes and clenches on top of his knee, squeezing until his knuckles are white.

Something is wrong.

“So they enjoyed Lila as much as you used to?” Ephraim says quietly.

Abel snorts. “At this point, I feel like we may as well start picking off a beta every so often to put down there,” Abel continues. “They’re useless anyway.”

I realize what he’s saying a second later and it makes my stomach roil.

When they talk about bait, they’re talking about people.

“Aren’t you hungry, Javier?” Gideon asks. “Eat…and make sure to throw some scraps under the table for Esther.”

They’re trying to get him riled up. I don’t know why.

But he’s more disciplined than that…and we’ve been playing this game ever since we joined forces to get off the Rig.

Javi picks up his fork and cuts a piece of fish, then brings it to his mouth. He chews like it’s the most disgusting thing he’s ever put in his mouth, then he picks up a piece of broccoli from the plate and looks down at me.

“Eat,” he says.

I lock eyes with him and take the food straight from his hand, letting my lips ghost over his knuckles on the way back.

We’re in this together, I say with a glance.

He seems to take strength from it, continuing to eat, even when we know the horrible truth. The fish they catch are feasting on corpses. On people they used to live beside. My stomach lurches, nausea climbing up my throat. I press my palms to my knees and will myself not to cry.

I can stay silent. I will stay silent. But I know they can scent how afraid I am.

“That’s right, Esther,” Gideon says. “We wanted you both to know what happens to girls who disobey our rules here on the Rig. I’ve tried to be nice, but if you keep sassin’ us?—”

“She’ll behave,” Javi cuts in, his voice hard and clipped. “I’ll make sure of it. No more disobeying, no more speaking out of turn. She’ll be the model of obedience…isn’t that right?”

It shocks me for a second.

I blink at him, stunned, my breath caught in my throat. The word obedience echoes in my ears, sharp and wrong. Obedience—what Gideon renamed my mother. Obedience, like a collar. Like a cage. Like they’re already stripping away what little of me is left.

I nod. Because I have to. Because they’re watching.

But my chest burns.

I tell myself Javi’s only playing a part, that this is still our game. But something ugly twists in my gut anyway—because my father is a master at this. He knows how to get in people’s heads. If he can’t bribe them, he breaks them. And Javi, for all his strength, has cracks in his armor too.

I trust him. I do . But the longer we stay, the harder it is to tell what’s pretend and what’s becoming real. Javi…he doesn’t want to be here, but he’s not really a prisoner either, not like I am.

After all, I’m the one chained to the floor while he gets a seat at the table.

And I know for a fact that power has a way of getting to men…whether they like it or not.

We don’t talk as we head back to our room, Javi leading me with a hand around my collar.

I’m itching to talk—to ask him what happened and to tell him about our impending rescue—by the time we get inside, but Javi silences me with a finger to his lips, rage in his eyes.

I can’t tell if it’s at me or someone else… and that scares me more than anything.

“We can’t keep acting like this,” he says as he shuts the door behind us.

I back up toward the bed. “I…”

“Shut up,” he snarls.

I shut my mouth, my chin trembling. No…they got to him…

“From now on, you keep the collar on at all times,” he says. “You wear dresses like a proper lady—and you don’t speak. Ever.”

I take a shuddering breath and a choked sob lodges itself in my throat. “Javi,” I whisper.

He lunges forward and pushes me against the bed, boxing me in. I struggle against him and let out a yelp, then his lips are at my ear, his breath hot against my neck.

“They’re always listening,” he whispers. “They know everything.”

I go still, gasping and keeping my voice just as low as his. “How?”

“Must be masking their scents,” he murmurs. His knee wedges between my legs, sending a jolt of pleasure through me. Even when I’m scared—even in that second I doubted him—I can’t resist him.

They can strip everything else away…but we still have this.

Each other. Pleasure. Fire .

And they can’t take that from us.

I turn my head to meet his eyes, finding them red around the edges. He looks rough, haggard, like he’s been through the wringer.

“What happened?” I breathe.

And Javi…he lets it all out.

He tells me terrible things, all under his breath—bodies in the water, Gideon’s threats, Abel’s taunting.

We stay lying in bed, speaking in whispers, not knowing who might be lurking outside the door or listening from the other side of the wall.

They’ve taken every ounce of dignity, ever scrap of privacy.

We have to get out of here.

“They killed Boyd,” he whispers. “Fuck…they killed him?—”

“They didn’t,” I reply. “I heard from my pack. He got our message out.”

Javi bows his head against my shoulder.

“Thank God,” he murmurs.

“I don’t know when they’re coming,” I whisper. “But they will. I believe they will.”

Javi doesn’t answer at first. He just breathes against my shoulder, his lips moving with the rise and fall of my chest like he’s syncing himself to me.

Then—softly—he grazes his teeth over the bite mark he left behind and brushes butterfly kisses into the curve of my neck, each one gentler than the last. Like he’s apologizing. Like he’s worshiping me.

I let out a soft, helpless sound—but he presses a finger to my lips.

“They want you punished,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse. “Not pleasured. They don’t want me to love you.”

His words shiver through me, bitter and brutal. Because he’s right. Every smile, every kind word, every ounce of comfort—they want it gone. They want to reduce me to a docile, obedient thing. And they want to make him the one who does it.

I take his hand in mine and guide it to my waist, rolling my hips into his touch with slow, deliberate need. His brow furrows, the pressure of our bodies a question and an answer all at once.

“Then we’ll have to do a better job pretending,” I whisper, “because I’m not giving this up.”

His eyes darken. He looks at me like I’m the last bright thing in a dying world.

I bring his finger to my lips and suck it into my mouth—slowly, intimately, letting my tongue drag over the pad of it while I hold his gaze. He inhales sharply, his jaw flexing.

“Don’t make a sound, Peach,” he mumbles.

And even though we’re wrapped in darkness and danger and listening walls, I smile.

“I’ll do my best.”