By day six, I gave up trying to fight. Everything danced before my eyes. The ceiling was a kaleidoscope. When they grabbed me and crooned that it was the last day they needed, my feet dragged along the floor.

The straps they placed around my chest, arms, and legs were unnecessary. I couldn't stand even if I wanted to.

The pain never got an easier.

But fighting was so much more difficult.

What do you want?

I want to fight.

I kicked the memory out of my head. No. No, I didn't want to fight.

I want to die.

Yet it seemed that even death took too much effort for me.

I blinked and I was sitting in the seat again.

"Fifty for four hours. Tomorrow we'll give her a break," Sam said. I felt the band stretch across my neck like a collar.

I leaned back and the metal posts rose. I could barely lift my shaking hands. Not that it mattered. Sam put the starfish octopus thing down and there was nothing I could do. I was grateful for the headrest for once. Keeping my head up was too much.

The Eyeless one flicked a switch and bright golden ribbons flowed down my arms. I arched my back uncontrollably. How did I still have more to give?

The door shut and I closed my eyes, willing death to take me.

It didn't. I was frozen in pain for hours.

I heard shouting outside. Or maybe it was me. I lost track.

I had no idea how long I had been there. Three minutes? Three hours? I knew nothing but pain.

+++++++++++++

Damien glanced over the dune into the base below. Five buildings. Four prey. His golden wolf camouflaged with the golden sand around him, keeping him hidden.

He raised his nose and tested the air. She was down there. From the first time they met, he had her scent imbedded in his brain. He growled at the thought of someone else putting their hands on her. She was his. Only his.

He sniffed the air again. The prey were more than werewolves. They had old magic reeking off them like sewage bathed in perfume. The time lock wouldn't work; not with them. He would have to go in the old-fashioned way—savagely tearing apart all who stood in his way.

He began to slink down the dune, approaching from the back of the largest building. He couldn't quite place where they were by scent alone, but he knew that at least two of them were inside the main building closest to him.

Her scent was driving him crazy. He cursed himself for not marking her while he had the chance. She made him uncontrollably giddy with power; logical priorities flew out the window. When he first saw her, everything was hidden underneath make-up, gloves, and a red dress. She looked so frail, but tragically committed. As he carried her unconscious body into the clinic and watched them wheel her away, ankle hanging limply off her leg, he realized he wanted her for more than power. He wanted her smile, her affection, her trust. He craved it.

When she looked at him, it doubled his conviction and efforts. She perfectly symbolized his mission: to free the old magic, kept in chains and bondage for too long. The weeks away only added zeal to his obsession. He often fantasized about how they would meet again, and she would swoon in his arms, affectionately offering her undying loyalty to him.

When he met his mate last week in the Wereking's palace, it threw a potential wrench into his plan. She was plain; her power came from her father's wealth. Damien lusted after her for a night, but soon realized that even their mate-bond was pathetic compared to the deep richness in a single touch with Naomi. Killing the young woman caused considerable stir within her family, but the tale of insanity was easy enough to weave, especially after Damien made her fling herself over her parent's patio railing onto the concrete patio five stories below. The woman had conceded her life at his slightest illusion. Convincing Naomi that her hand was tingling with pleasure took considerable effort.

It was the exhaustion that drove Damien away. That and the need to challenge the king's right to his throne. Once they were mated, the old magic would draw Naomi to him by itself. Then, they would rule.

The current predicament was unfortunate. Damien smelled the prey and his intended. But deeper... below the surface... he felt the old magic stirring in the depths. He didn't know which terror haunted this place, but it was hungry.

Soon, my old friend. Soon, you will rule this land again.

Damien padded up to the rear of the first building. Sure enough, three of the werewolves were inside. Yet, Naomi's scent was almost overwhelming, as if it was being extracted and pumped into the air. The fourth wolf was in a side building. He edged around the side of the building and peered in. They were in a back room, invisible to his eye.

Naomi was in one of the two building set apart. They faced each other and one of them reeked of unwashed wolf. Naomi was in the other.

Sneaking was not his style. Yet, the thought of victory so close fueled his veins with pure adrenaline. He needed to touch her. He shimmered and shifted into his human form, glancing around the deserted town before dipping into the building where Naomi was.

He headed straight down the hall and found an unlocked door. She was here. He pulled the door open slowly and froze.

There she was. Beautiful.

And horribly tortured. Every nerve in her body looked alight in pain. She twitched, eyes closed as if the mere act of breathing took enormous labor. It probably did. Golden magic curled around her body and down her arms, where two leeches were extracting it and funneling it into two metal poles beside her.

Rage tore through him like a crashing wave and he howled and surged forward. He tore one of the leeches off her hand and she screamed. The leech quivered in his hand and he clenched his fist, killing the pathetic creature. The golden magic stopped flowing down her arm. He reached for the other leech when the ground shook.

Realization dawned in Damien. Of course. This creature wanted Naomi for himself.

He reached for the other hand. Too bad. She is MINE.

As he brushed her hand, the ground shook again, casting Damien to the ground. He growled in frustration and stood. As he stepped forward, a flash of red exploded in his front.

He looked down to see a gaping bullet hole in his chest. Without intending, he sank to his knees. His eyes stayed focused on Naomi's tortured form as his eyes fluttered shut.