They were not weaklings.  The courage they’d displayed when I’d run with them and when David had found us again, was undeniable.  Weaklings were men like Frank and Blake who bullied and hurt people.  Torn on how to respond, I simply chose to turn away from him.  Spitting in his eye like I wanted to do would probably just result in more bleeding on my part.

He growled furiously and shoved to his feet.  I watched him from the corner of my eye.  At first, I thought he would hit me and inwardly cringed.  After a moment, he seemed to calm himself and swung away to move toward the bathroom.  He left the door open, no doubt so he could hear me.  I averted my eyes and thought back to what he’d said.

He was right.  I didn’t know anything.  What sisters was he talking about?  I was an only child from my father and had two brothers from my mom.  No sisters.  And what was an Urbat?  He made it sound different from a werewolf.

Perhaps I didn’t need Blake.  It seemed Frank had some answers, too.   I just needed to figure out how to get them.  The thought of being nice to him made my stomach roll.  Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad once he was clean.

The water turned on, and the shower curtain rustled.  I risked a quick glance at the bathroom where I, thankfully, couldn’t see him, then turned to look for something that might help me get out of the ties.  Even the slightest tug hurt so I didn’t try too hard.  What was the point if I bruised myself so badly I couldn’t run?  I knew they wanted me alive.  I was too valuable to them, which was probably why I hadn’t been hurt worse.

The sudden silence from the bathroom brought me back from my thoughts.  There was no way his shower had been long enough to get rid of the smell.  I quickly turned away, afraid he’d come marching out in the nude.  I grew nervous when he didn’t make any noise for several minutes.

“Afraid you’ll see something you like?”  His voice, inches from my ear, startled me.

I squeezed my eyes shut and answered with more bravado than I felt.  “Hardly.  I just don’t think my stomach can take much more—”

He smacked me upside the back of the head, stopping the rest of my comment.  I winced and swallowed hard against the pain.  It could have been worse.

Risking another smack, I kept talking, hoping he’d give away some useful information.  “You know, it’s that kind of treatment that had me running in the first place.  If you wanted me to stay, you could have tried some kindness.”

“Richard and your brothers were your kindness.  You were allowed to stay with your brothers, yet you still resented the monthly Introductions.  You were provided for and kept safe.  What more do you think you needed?”

Think?  My estimation of his intelligence dipped.

“My freedom,” I said, risking a look.

He wore the same dirty cutoffs and stood near the bed.  Most of the grime that had coated his skin was gone.  I wasn’t about to trust the smell had disappeared, too.

“And what would you have done with your freedom?”  He tilted his head as if really interested in my answer.

“If I would have had it from the beginning, simple things, like shop for my own clothes or take the boys to the park.”

He considered me for a moment.  “What if it would’ve been given to you later?”

There was no point answering because his smug expression said it all.  We both knew I would have run.  What did he really expect?  How long could you treat a person like a prisoner before they started dreaming of escape?

His pocket buzzed softly.  Given his state of dress, I would have never guessed he owned a cell phone.  He dug it out and answered it abruptly.  He listened for a moment then started to pace.  As he moved, he kept eye contact with me.  It was like watching a lion at the zoo.  I wished I had werewolf hearing.  Whatever the caller said, Frank didn’t like it.  His face flushed and a low growl erupted from him.

“Get rid of him.  I don’t want to hear from you again until he’s dead.”  He slid the phone closed, ending the conversation as abruptly as he’d begun.

Hope flooded me.  He could only be talking about Emmitt.  I frowned, and hope turned to worry.  Someone was helping Frank and had seen Emmitt.  I wondered if  Grey and Carlos were with him.  I needed to distract Frank from planning anything further.

“What is an Urbat, Frank?  And what decision were you waiting for me to make?”

“If Blake wants you to know, he’ll tell you.”  He continued to pace, his steps agitated.  He occasionally stopped by the window to look out the gap in the curtain.

I thought quickly.  “It has to do with Claiming one of you...the men he brought to dinner, doesn’t it?” I asked.  “Why does Blake want me to Claim one of you?  Why not Emmitt?”

“The puppet has a brain.  Impressive.”

I wasn’t getting enough of his attention.  “How could I have ever thought of any of you in that way?  I was fifteen when all that started.”  Frank ignored me so I tried again.

“What’s so important about Claiming one of you?  He already had me under his control.”

“Hardly.  Mated to one of us, you’d never be able to run and hide like you did.  We’d sense exactly where you were and come for you.  That is control.  But that’s not the real reason.”

He started walking toward me but paused before he made it halfway.  He tilted his head as if he heard something.  I’d seen that same look on Emmitt; Frank listened to something I couldn’t hear.

I glanced toward the door.  A crackling noise filled the air as the wood bulged.  A moment later, the door flew inward and hit the wall with a loud thud.

Emmitt stood in the opening, outlined by the fading light of the sun.  His grey t-shirt sported several tears and bloody patches.  The rips exposed skin that was blemish free so I knew the blood wasn’t his.  He did, however, have a bruise shadowing his jaw under his emerging whiskers.

His gaze skimmed over me before it locked on Frank.  Anger boiled beneath Emmitt’s features.  He flexed his hands.  His usual pink, blunt cut nails extended into long, lethal grey claws.

Frank crouched and rolled his shoulders.  Spotty patches of fur erupted from his skin and the tips of his now pointy ears.  One leg started to transform, the thigh shortening while the foot elongated.

Tendons stood out on Emmitt’s neck as his canines burst forth from his mouth.  His face started to shift, elongating slightly, making room for his teeth.  I could barely understand him when he spoke.

“Your mistake was her blood,” he growled just before he lunged for Frank.

They met, snarling in the center of the room.  Emmitt grabbed Frank by the shoulders and pulled him in for a head-butt before Frank could swipe at him.  I cringed at the sound of the solid thunk, but Emmitt didn’t seem fazed.  Frank, however, staggered—partially due to his foot.  Emmitt lashed out toward Frank’s chest in a move so fast I almost didn’t catch it.  Frank leapt out of the way.

There wasn’t much room for them to maneuver as they circled each other looking for openings.  Emmitt seemed to be waiting for Frank to do something.  When Frank’s back was to the door, Frank lashed out with his right just after feinting with his left.

Emmitt dodged Frank’s swing, ducked under it, and raked his claws over Frank’s exposed side.  Four bloody furrows erupted.  Frank swore.  His control slipped, and his feet fully sprouted claws and fur. Frank started panting with the effort.

Emmitt gave him no opportunity to recover.  Instead, he pushed Frank harder, striking repeatedly with his claws, once even biting.  Frank didn’t moan in pleasure, then.  His howl of rage ricocheted off the walls.

Through the damaged hotel door, I saw the parking lot lights clicked on and watched three men run from the main office.

“People are coming,” I said to both Frank and Emmitt.  They couldn’t be caught fighting in their current state.