Howl

by JJ Collins

Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2012 -- JJ Collins

Discover other titles by JJ Collins at Smashwords.com

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

"Bring him."

The beast was ravenous, snarling and snapping as its handlers forced it to its knees. Long claws scrabbled at the stone as the werewolf struggled. Its fur was mangled and matted, and its eyes blazed red as it took in the man seated in the chair before it.

Malcolm leaned forward in his chair and the torchlight glinted off the threads of silver in his hair. An angular face, high cheekbones and a hooked nose gave him the appearance of a hunting bird. The werewolf in front of him lunged and he did not flinch; instead, he smiled.

"So angry for one so young, and so defiant of your pack leader. Come, little one, can we not talk like adults?"

The werewolf snarled and lunged again, held back only by the strength of his captors.

"As you wish, then."

Malcolm flicked his wrist, and a leather collar inlaid with silver was snapped about the were's neck. The werewolf howled, even as his muzzle began to shrink. The change was almost instantaneous -- fur was replaced by bronzed skin, a muscular torso, and the long legs of a young man just out of his teens. Malcolm knew he could not be more than twenty-five, and he smiled again as he remembered what that was like: all fire and no moderation.

The young man before him now wore a pair of ragged trousers, cinched to his waist by a leather belt. The collar fit tight to his neck, and the silver gleamed against the sun-browned flesh. He was thin, but in a lean, rangy way that most weres had -- a runner's build that belied incredible power. Muscle flexed under firm skin, and Malcolm took his time to appreciate it. The boy's eyes still blazed, and he bared his teeth as Malcolm met his gaze.

The elder were stood, walking around the boy. The weres holding him struggled as their captive wrenched on their hold, trying to get at their alpha. Malcolm gestured again, and more leather straps inlaid with silver were wrapped around the captive were's wrists, the cuffs attached to longer straps that looped through large, strong eyebolts in the ceiling. The guards yanked, and the boy's arms were pulled above his head until he was nearly standing on tiptoe. The boy dangled within reach of Malcolm's chair now, toes scraping the concrete floor.

The guards stepped back to the door, frowns on their faces and eyes blank as the alpha were strolled around the captive. He reached his chair and plucked a riding crop from the table next to it, twirling it in his hands before setting it down and picking up a quirt instead. It was more suitable for the beginning, he thought, running the falls across his palm before giving it an experimental snap in the air.

The boy did not flinch at the lick of the quirt so close to his ear. Malcolm nodded. His resolve was strong. It would be a chore to break him of his arrogance. Such were the burdens of an alpha.

"You stand accused of disobedience and a willful nature that cannot be ignored any longer, Omega." Malcolm tapped the quirt against his jean-clad thigh. "You ignored the orders from a beta, and nearly exposed us all to the humans we hide from."

The boy met his eyes with his unwavering dark brown ones. "I refuse the pack, and all it stands for!"

The boy spat on the floor, missing Malcolm's boots by inches. That wouldn't do at all. He snapped his fingers.

"Strip him."

The guards undid the belt, pulling his trousers free from slim hips and revealing a set of equally torn boxers. These, too, were removed, freeing a firm, toned buttocks and a sizeable cock. Malcolm strolled around again, tapping the quirt against his thigh. He paused behind the boy, regarding the muscular artistry of his back. It would be a shame to defile that, but it was his duty as alpha.

The first lash was light, the quirt licking out with a whispering of leather and striking the boy across his shoulders. The shoulders strained as the omega lunged forward, snarling.