Marked Northern Shifters 1

wolves into the world. But, well, he hadn’t thought much about it, or he would have realized that didn’t mean she didn’t regret the lack. “Rye or whole wheat?” he asked, for want of anything better to say.
“Whatever.”
Liam chose for her and made sandwiches. Food preparation made him think of Casey. She was downstairs, probably doing laundry. For her own good he’d have to send her away until the quad was gone. Though Ira would miss her. He breathed deeply, feeling reassured by Ira’s scent around the house. His brother was safe. But Alec…
As they sat down to eat, Liam worked at getting the words out. Somehow confiding in Veronica made Alec’s danger more real. She sensed his distress and stopped chewing. Looked at him.
“Alec is missing,” he said in a rush. “And the timing…I’m sick.” He placed a hand on his chest. “Heartsick. They must have him.”
She gazed at him, considering. “Trey thought they were still days away.”
“Trey was injured, Veronica.” Injured werewolves lost track of time, their entire body focused on healing. It sometimes left them disoriented. “I’m so frightened for Alec.”
“I hope you’re wrong, but we’ll search.”
“Okay.” Liam pulled in a long breath, wondering how he was going to balance protecting Ira and Veronica, while searching for Alec. He couldn’t expose everyone to danger; nor could he sacrifice one member of his pack for the others. He wished Trey would get the hell over here. He wished Alec, hell, he hoped Alec had taken off for reasons Liam couldn’t fathom and was safely in the Bahamas or something.
Veronica squeezed Liam’s hand just before Ira raced into the kitchen and launched himself at her.
“Hey, you,” she said, a big smile on her face.
Ira pulled back. “Where’s David?”
“He’ll come over soon.”
Liam raised his eyebrows. David wouldn’t be happy with the crowded living arrangements.
“He will,” she told Liam. “He understands how serious this is. Though we thought we had more time. But if…” She looked away.
If Alec had been taken, their time was up.
Chapter Eight
    The next couple of days were hell. Too cold at night, Alec woke shivering, that damn pup whining beside him and sometimes actually laying its back against him, as if to share warmth and affection.
    What the hell was it doing, hanging out with him? Oh yeah, he was its pet. Christ. Alec couldn’t wrap his mind around the situation. Situation. What a joke. Shackled to the cement floor of some derelict shed behind a rundown house down some country road. He was fucked.
    Luke came over a few times. In wolf form, he breathed all over Alec, sometimes baring teeth, and Alec considered it his duty not to flinch. He didn’t always succeed.
But what Alec truly abhorred were Gabriel’s visits with his sick humor and cold eyes, complete with petting sessions Alec had to endure. He could be grateful Gabriel wasn’t interested in patting his ass and privates but, chained to a dirty floor, Alec had difficulty feeling grateful for anything whatsoever.
He couldn’t eat dog food, couldn’t keep it down.
The pup snuck other food to him and he didn’t know if it would get her in trouble or not, but he ate it. She had an odd relationship with the men. She didn’t choose to be with them, yet they were quite solicitous. As if they wanted to please her but didn’t know what to do with her.
She mostly brought him junk—bread and chips. He wasn’t exactly getting his protein but he was starved and vacuumed it down, even when it had been in her mouth.
He drank from a fucking hose she had dragged over and knew how to turn on.
The one thing that kept him halfway sane was thinking back to Liam. Alec’s brain seized on his time with the golden boy, letting the memories bring comfort. Someone had loved him, even for a very short time. It might not ever happen again—things didn’t exactly look good at the moment—and Alec grasped at the heat of their night together. It helped when he was chilled to the bone and only getting colder.
By the end of the second day, the pup had become an odd source of comfort. Did Stockholm syndrome apply to werepups? He found himself wishing he could get them both away from Gabriel and Luke. Not that he had a clue how to look after a werewolf who was never a child, only a wolf.
The third morning, after he’d stuffed a stale bagel in his mouth, he asked, “What’s a nice girl like you doing with these guys?”
Her tail had