Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition Elizabeth Knox (cheapest way to read ebooks .txt) 📖

Her nails were torn. Her ribs were broken. She had scrapes and bruises all over and an ankle that was either badly sprained or cracked. Messed up. She was messed up. And totally fucked if she couldn’t escape before Khan made good on his threat and sold her to the highest bidder.

What was a red maned wolf shifter worth on the paranormal sex slave market?

Still wearing the rope around her waist, she went to work on the knot. Her bloodied fingers made loosening it a challenge but she did it, coiling the rope into her pillow for the night.

Rory was too cold, wound up, and in pain to sleep, but she tried. If she was to let her natural shifter healing ability work, she needed to catch some REMs.

The sound of her breathing was loud in the pit. It made her very aware of the walls around her keeping her imprisoned. Flexing her fingers on the dirt floor, she flattened her palms, feeling the soft grains beneath her touch. A vibration pulsed beneath them. Faint but there.

Frowning into the darkness, Rory focused on the sensation with confusion. What the hell was it?

The sensation came again.

Thud, thud, thud.

Rhythmic, growing in strength.

A heartbeat?

A slither of fear slid down her spine, and Rory held her breath. It wasn’t possible. The earth didn’t have a heart. There had to be a rational explanation. An animal burrowing beneath her or a seismic tremor . . . .

Senses sharpening, she could swear she felt a presence with her. Something just beyond her reach, hovering and watching.

Rory didn’t believe in ghosts but her mind was filled with all the wild tales that the other women at the club had told her.

“Shit,” she whispered under her breath, staying as still as possible.

A sound from above made her jump. The lid covering the top of the hole was dragged aside. A stark beam of light flooded down, and she blinked, shielding her eyes from the oversized flashlight.

“Yo, whore! You still alive down there?” a voice called.

Toad.

The Death’s Head prospect who had taunted her in the cage.

“Let me the fuck out!” Rory shouted back.

A laugh came from above. “Khan wanted to make sure you don’t get too dehydrated. You won’t look good up on stage if you’re half dead.”

Levering herself up onto her elbows, she watched as something was lowered toward her on a rope.

A water pouch.

Reaching for it, she caught it eagerly, twisting the top off and gulping the liquid down, wetting her parched throat and feeling immediate relief.

“Untie it,” Toad ordered.

Tugging on the rope, Rory kept it wound around her hand clinging to the pouch. “No.”

She’d barely said the word before electricity arched through her body, radiating from the collar around her neck. Screaming with the pain, she let the rope go slack, clawing at the collar instead.

“Stubborn bitch,” Toad sneered. “Someone’s going to have fun bringing you to heel. Too bad we can’t keep you. It would have been fun to have you as the club slave. Keep those holes of yours filled while we broke you in.”

Slipping into Magenta mode, Rory gritted her teeth. “Try to fill them, you mean. Stubby little peckers like yours do nothing for me.”

“Yeah, run that mouth of yours while you can,” Toad snarled.

The flashlight receded and the cover was replaced, closing Rory in once more.

Wrapping her arms around her waist, she wondered how many hours were left until dawn. Somehow, she managed to fall into a fitful sleep.

She woke to the noise of engines rumbling above. From the smack talk that followed, Toad had returned with a couple of his biker friends.

The lid slid back, letting the shaft flood with morning light.

“Tie the rope around your waist,” Toad commanded, lowering it to her.

Crawling into a sitting position, Rory stood with effort, grimacing at the stiffness in her limbs and wincing from the pain in her ribs. She’d managed to heal a little but not as much as she would have liked. She suspected the drug that prevented her from shifting was also inhibiting her healing ability. It was the only explanation why she was still in a bad way.

Taking the end of the rope, she looped it through her legs and made a cradle. Being pulled by her waist would have been too painful with her broken ribs, and she couldn’t trust her grip to hang onto the rope.

She was glad she’d thought to make a rope seat. Toad and his buddies hauled her up with no consideration to the shape she was in.

Her cracked ribs protested their treatment. Locking her jaw, she breathed through the pain.

When she reached the top, Toad grabbed her biceps and hauled her away from the edge.

“Don’t even think about causing us trouble,” he warned, giving her an icy glare. “I’ll flip the switch on your collar so fast, you’ll piss yourself.”

One of the other bikers chuckled. “Remember that bear shifter who didn’t take the hint? We fried her so many times, she was fucked in the head. Not that any of the bidders were gonna pay for her brains.”

The jackals’ laughter made Rory’s blood run cold.

Toad pushed her forward. She shifted her weight, trying to spare her injured ankle.

Seeing how she favored one leg, he clucked his tongue and dropped to his haunches, running his hands over her joint like a veterinarian would check a horse. “You’re lucky it isn’t broken. It will heal quicker when the drug we gave you wears off. Khan wants you presentable for the auction today.”

The auction was today?

Rory’s heart stopped beating for a second before taking off at a rapid pace.

Toad rose, giving her a smirk. “Much more lucrative and a helluva lot more entertaining than Monday night football. Instead of draft picks, buyers take the pick of the litter. Some of the big wheels drive up from the city, but international buyers fly in from all over. We got extras coming after hearing there’ll be a maned wolf