Wolf's Capture Read Online Free PDF

unique bond as the reason he’d emerged less damaged than his brothers after his solitary confinement at the hands of the rebels. Don’t get him wrong, he still remembered it with utmost clarity, but given how long ago it had happened, Brody tried to not reflect on it. He’d moved on, even if some of his brothers hadn’t.
    Reminiscing about the past wouldn’t help the current situation, nor would placating his wolf over their newest accessory.
    “Sorry, buddy,” Brody said aloud. “But the jewelry stays for now. We’ve got other shit to worry about.” Such as himself. Was the collar the only thing he now sported? Any more surprises?
    A quick grab of his manparts showed them intact.
    Big sigh of relief.
    Apparel-wise, Brody still wore his jeans, albeit with empty pockets. No surprise, the gun he kept tucked in the back was gone, as was the knife he’d strapped to his ankle. He remained shirtless, his upper body bare to the cool air of the dank space. It didn’t bother him. He lived in Alaska for fuck’s sake. It got a lot colder than this in the winter, even with clothes.
    Twisting to review what he could of his back, and craning to check his torso, he didn’t see anything of concern. Other than a few light bruises and contusions from his manhandling, he appeared no worse for wear.
    Clue: whoever captured him wanted him alive for some purpose. That worked for him. An undamaged and conscience wolf was a plotting one. I’ve yet to meet a prison that can hold me.
    And he’d done time in his fair share while conducting his various missions. Lock picking was one of his many skills. Give him something pin-like and he’d have those lock tumblers dancing in no time.
    Except this cage didn’t bear a lock. Approaching the bars where he could see the reinforced outline of a door, he tried to spot the locking mechanism. It only concerned him a little when he couldn’t see one. That might prove a challenge, even with his talents.
    He’d still prevail. All prisons had a flaw. He just had to find it. He’d done it before in the prison overseas, the one he occupied the longest. In the end, it couldn’t hold him.
    Before Brody could reach through the bars and palpate the area around where he’d usually find a lock, he heard the squeak of a door opening. A shaft of daylight illuminated the upper part of a wooden staircase tucked in an opposite corner. When he didn’t note anything to use as a weapon, he crouched, hands tucked at his side, his entire body ready to spring into action—or to morph into almost two hundred pounds of furry menace.
    He noted toes first then an ankle. Brody glimpsed most of a calf, too, before the edge of a gown hid the rest. A shame. Bared thighs were a favorite of his. Some guys like breasts or ass, but Brody, he liked a rounded pair of thighs, thighs he could grip.
    Except in this case, the only grip he should contemplate was a hand around her neck.
    Her.
    Down the stairs, head bowed as if watching her steps, descended the woman from the rock. If it isn’t my friend, Bait. Bait that he’d fallen for.
    He snarled. “You.” He didn’t hide his irritation. Let her realize she’d messed with the wrong dude.
    Uncoiling himself, he rose to his full height and approached the bars, grabbing them just as she cried out, “Don’t.”
    Sizzle. Burning smell. No frying pan or bacon in sight.
    Hmmm. Probably not a good sign.
    He yanked his burning hands away from the silver-coated bars. Too late. They were throbbing an angry red. Fuck. That would hurt as it healed.
    With the introduction of the silver, the level of difficulty when it came to escape went up. But he’d still prevail. Especially if he could get his hands on the woman who’d dangled herself like a juicy steak.
    He glared at her. She didn’t seem intimidated in the least, probably because she had a couple of burly guards at her back. One was skinny as hell, tall though, with long, lanky hair that straggled over his face. The other