Alpha’s Black Furred Slave Mate
Chapter 7

"F**k..." Marlon snarled as he leaned over his bed and saw a sleeping Deonna on the ground beside him.

The memories of last night were fuzzy in his mind and the only thing he could think of was that he was drugged. But if he was drugged, how the hell did this dirtball get drugged too?

Her black hair fell messily around her tanned features; she had slight drool on the side of her chin. He found himself smiling at her sleeping body, mesmerized at the sight of the purple haze outlining her features.

The rags she wore were practically torn off her thin malnourished body. He felt his wolf self reaching out to her and wanting to keep her safe; wanting to wrap her up in his arms and keep her safe. He had to shake that feeling away quickly. There was no way this little slave was his mate. She wasn't even a full adult yet, not to mention she was a black-furred wolf.

His inner wolf had to be making a mistake and the very thought of it was beginning to piss him off.

Nudging her with his foot, she groaned as his foot contacted her backbone and dug into her skin. He knew he had birth control in one of his drawers and needed to find it. He'd be damned if he got a dirtball wolf slave pregnant. This wasn't the first time he had sex with a woman without proper precautions and needed to make sure she was on birth control to eliminate any chances of pregnancy.

He had to get her out of here.

(Deonna)

The memory of last night was foggy but bits and pieces of it played in my head.

The food that was left on the kitchen counter that I managed to swipe. The weird fuzzy feeling I had after I ate. That tugging and knaggy sensation of my wolf. She was pulling me towards something; no. she was pulling me towards someone. And then... Then...

As I remembered that one detail, panic began to rise through me. I lifted my head slightly and peered around the large dimly lit room I was in. The giant bed that sat next to me, I remembered being entangled in the comforter, in the arms of a man. But not just any man.

Marlon.

He was rummaging through some of his drawers and swearing under his breath. He must be looking for a weapon to finish the job of killing me. It's the only thing I could think he could be doing. "Get up," he ordered.

I opened my mouth to protest the fact that I was in pain, but he stopped me before I could get a word out.

"Get the fuck up!" He barked.

Looking at his face as he barked, his features began morphing slightly as his wolf side began to reveal itself. His eyes were glistening a golden shade and his teeth were turning bigger and sharper as fur peaked from his skin.

I felt a slight surge of excitement coming from my inner wolf and I had to inhale sharply to soothe the feeling and silence her.

Using his bed as leverage, I manage to pull myself from my feet and wobbly keep my stance. I still felt groggy from the obvious drugs I was on. My body was still feeling warm all over and I couldn't tell if it was because of the drugs, or because my fever was returning.

With one look at me, he turned his back on me and began searching through his drawers again, muttering something I couldn't quite understand.

"What are you looking for?" I found my voice to speak.

Without looking at me he answered, "Birth control."

Birth control?

He must have been lying. He wasn't searching for birth control; he was searching for something to kill me with or maybe even poison. Why would Marlon want me on birth control? Standing there as he continued to swear and search through his belongings, I knew I needed to figure out a way to get out.

Telling from the sun's position in the sky, peeking through the window, I knew it must have been mid-morning. Which also meant that I was late for helping Bob cheat on his test; if Marlon didn't kill me, I knew Bob was going to.

I felt even sicker in my stomach.

Dying here was not on my agenda, at least not yet. I needed to figure out a way out of this.

"I was spayed at the slave farm," I lied.

Marlon stopped searching and glanced over at me, his eyes unconvinced

"They didn't want a dirtball to reproduce," I continued.

He slammed his drawer shut and searched my body with his eyes. The thought of his hands on me and him being inside of me made my inner wolf stir again. I could almost see the hazy purple revealing itself through my fingertips and tugging towards him again. I hid my hands behind my back, in hopes that he didn't see it as well.

Why did this keep happening?

I heard this happens when two wolves mate, but Marlon and I couldn't be mates. He was a nobleman that fed on making the lives of slaves miserable and I was nothing more than a 17-year-old dirtball. It was almost laughable that the two of us could be mates. The thought alone made me feel sick. Almost lightheaded. I needed to get out of there before I passed out.

"Please," I found myself nearly begging him. "I won't tell anybody about this. Just let me go. I'll go back to the gardens, and you won't have to deal with me anymore. I'll stay out of your way, and I'll say nothing."

I hated begging, but I wasn't sure what else to do at that point. I wanted to get back to the gardens before he decided to kill me and before Bob finds me. There was no doubt in my mind that Bob was going to try something as soon as he saw me. Marlon was silent for a long while, I tried to figure out what he was thinking but his face appeared almost expressionless.

"Fine," he finally spoke after what felt like a lifetime.

I breathed out relieved; I hadn't realized I was holding my breath until that moment.

"Get the fuck out of my manor," he hissed in a low grumble.

I didn't stick around for him to change his mind. I ran through his bedroom doorway; I was thankful nobody was there because I wasn't careful at leaving. I could hear the low murmurs of Bob and his tutor in the study; he sounded aggravated, and I could only imagine what he was planning to do with me.

I'm sure he went into the grocery room, noticed I was gone, and began planning out his revenge for me. But I didn't care. I just wanted to get out of the manor.

My body was aching from when Marlon struck me with his foot, and my throat was burning and gasping for water.

I went down the same route that Bob initially brought me to sneak me into the manor. The narrow hallway ended around a small hidden backdoor, which lead right into the gardens and towards the slave shack.

As soon I reached outside, I was hit with the cool sensation of the autumn air. It soothed my burning throat almost instantly, though I was still parched for water.

I could hear the clicking of the sprinkler system not far from where I stood. As I got closer, the mist began to speculate my features. The already cold air got much colder. Soothing away the pain Marlon had caused.

I rinsed my fingers through the cold water, relieved that nobody was around to spot me. There wasn't a sound for miles; only the soft sounds of the trees moving through the wind and the far-off distant birds flying through the late morning sky.

I didn't remember the last time I rinsed with fresh water; back on the slave farm, the water we used to bathe was always used and dirty. By the time I was able to bathe, I would be lucky if it was light brown vs. dark brown.

I pressed my lips against the sprinkler and allowed the cold water to soothe my aching throat and quench my thirst. I closed my eyes as the water went down my throat; it felt good, and it tasted even better. It's been so long since I've been able to drink clean water. At this point, I didn't care where it was.

I could feel my features growing hot as they often did when I lived on the slave farm. Dizziness began overtaking me and my breathing was becoming almost non-existent. Pain coursed through my chest and this time I allowed myself to tumble to the ground in agony.

I don't remember what happened after that; I just remember darkness enclosing my vision.

...

As I came to, I realized I was back in the slave shack. I was in a hay bed with a thin blanket laying on top of me. I was still wearing my rags, but it appeared that someone hosed me down to get rid of the dirt and blood that covered my body.

My dark hair was also damp, but the top of my head stung at any movement. Once I attempted to move my body, I realized everything stung. As I lay in bed, I could hardly move.

I could feel my body temperature rising; sweat was piling on my forehead and dripping down my features. I found it difficult to keep myself awake.

I began drifting off again; I was sure this was what death felt like.

"Hey... wake up."

I felt a set of strong hands on my shoulders shaking me gently. Fear began to course through me again, thinking that the landscaper was back for round two. I kept my eyes closed, pretending I was dead was probably the only way I could get out of this alive. "Slave, I said wake up."

The voice got louder.

I soon realized the voice wasn't a deep southern twang as it was before. It sounded a bit lighter and even more familiar.

I opened my eyes slightly to see Alex standing by the hay bed. As I opened my eyes, I swear I saw him sigh out in almost relief.

"You are running a fever," he told me.

A familiar woman stood behind him; her shimmering blonde hair and fair features brought me back to the medical station. It was the same nurse that vaccinated me. They were both standing in the slave shack, staring down at me. She looked less than pleased to be there and he looked almost worried.

I squinted my eyes, trying to better see them but my vision was too blurry, and I could hardly comprehend what was going on in front of me.

"I called Dr. Olivia Willis to take a look at you," Alex explained.

Why would he call the doctor to look at me? Nobody cared about black slaves. Especially not the Roessler family.

"Say nothing to nobody about this," Dr. Willis told him furiously as she knelt beside me.

She placed a cool cloth over my head filled with cold water that rinsed down my features, soothing away the heat and the pain that went with it. I felt myself sighing in relief as the cold hit my skin. I closed my eyes, trying to regain consciousness, but I could also feel myself slipping away.

"Try to stay awake," she told me.

Her voice seemed much calmer than it had been.

"You have a concussion," she explained.

That made sense: the blow to my head was hard enough to knock me out.

"I'm going to put this IV bag in your arm; it's just water so it'll keep your body hydrated."

For all I knew, it could have been poison, but I was too weak to fight her off. They very well could have killed me at any moment.

I felt a sharp sting in my left wrist as the needle punctured through my skin. I opened my eyes slightly to see a small tube sticking through my arm where the needle had gone through. I felt the cold liquid pumping into my body, cleaning through my insides and hydrating my very being.

It felt heavenly.

"I'm going to give you a vaccination that will hopefully bring your fever down," she said as she prepared another needle.

Looking over at Alex he was staring at the needle she was preparing. He grimaced at the size of the needle as she inserted it into my arm. I winced at the sharp pain, but it only lasted a second.

"I need plan B," I whispered to him; finally finding my voice after not using it for what felt like hours.

He glanced down at me, frowning.

"What?" He asked.

"I need plan B," I repeated.

"Why?" he asked, sounding annoyed.

I didn't answer, I just stared up at him, fear riddled my eyes, and my body shook. I had no idea how to tell him that his father had his way with me and that I could be pregnant with his child. That wouldn't roll over well with the Roessler's if word got out about that. I lay my head back down and stared at the ceiling of the shack. It was no use. I wasn't going to be able to say anything.