Soul Bound [Book Three, Lady and the Wolf]

Prologue

He threw his body against the walls, his breath heavy as he looked around wildly, trying to find any means of escape. He was trapped in a cage meant to contain him with silver. Silver was malleable, easy to bend and break, but not when it burned you from the inside out.

It was a silver cage meant to break him down.

"You need to stop that," came a little whisper, a tiny voice that broke through the chaos in his mind.

Van eyed the door for a brief second, his glare penetrating through the silver that hid him, and grunted, "Sick of me killing his men, so he sends a bitch? Fitting."

Markus couldn't control him. Once he was out of here, he would kill the mutt, rip him limb from limb, and find Aira. He had to find her. She had to be out there, broken and bruised, but he could fix this. He didn't have a choice.

With a deep guttural growl, he rammed his body into the silver walls that held him prisoner, letting out a huff when he made an impressive dent. His skin burned like he had just been doused in molten lava, but it was worth it.

She was worth it.

A moment before he could try again, the collar around his neck made a harsh beeping, and Van willed himself to take a deep breath, keeping Konstantin at bay. One wrong move and it was all over. He'd be injected with silver if he even thought about letting Konstantin out.

"Please stop," she pleaded, this time her voice a little louder, a little sterner.

Van's irritated expression found the tiny window of his cell and found blue eyes staring back at him, accompanied with a little button nose and a dark fringe hovering just below her eyebrows. He didn't show it, but those eyes reminded him of what he was fighting for.

"And what can I do for you, exactly?" he demanded. His tone was a little softer this time, those eyes reminded him too much of her.

"I-I was asked to come and... talk," she responded. Her meek voice was a far cry from Aira's confident right-fighter attitude, which would make it easier to rip her tongue out when she eventually opened that damn door.

He could already sense the energy that flowed off of her in waves – energy that was new, unused and very juvenile. She's just come into her power. Van hadn't been around a Wiccan in centuries, but he could sense one from a mile away. They were rare, but not completely extinct.

"I'm not one for idle weather speech, but please, humour me witch," he barked back, making her visibly flinch. "Do me a favour and open that door. I have tea and cupcakes in here."

His voice was wicked and on the brink of insanity. He had been away from Aira too long. The days had meshed into one, he didn't know what time it was, what day or even what month. His body clock was on a constant loop of sleep, eat, fight, kill when someone dared to try and enter his domain, and repeat.

His big empty cage felt awfully small when the little minx actually opened the door. The sweet sound of the metal clang made his blood boil, instinct kicking in to run and snap her neck, then make his escape to threaten whoever he could find to get this damn collar off.

But that didn't go as planned, just like everything else in his life. The second he took a step toward her, he stopped, noticing the way her face paled and her upper lip trembled, but she stood her ground, ready to take whatever it was he was about to do.

He saw determination in her blue eyes, unease, anxiousness and a little bit of hate. Eyes that reminded him so very much of his Aira, but in another sense, were completely different. She wore a light blue dress, a belt tightened around her waist to hide how big it actually was on her, and ankle boots that gave her at least an added inch in height.