CLAUDE

I SAT ACROSS from my father, the room thick with the silence of the lies I was about to spin. He leaned forward, eyes narrowing as he studied me.

"So, you're saying Alpha Landon wants you at this meeting with the Federal werewolves... government officials?" His voice carried doubt, his fingers tapping the edge of the table.

"Yes," I replied, gripping my phone a little tighter.

"And he didn't think to tell me first?" His brow furrowed deeply.

I met his gaze without flinching. "No."

He rubbed his beard-a beard I couldn't seem to grow no matter how hard I tried. "It sounds suspicious."

"We've grown closer since our last meeting at his pack. He said he sees great potential in me as a future Alpha." I spread my hands across the table, forcing myself to relax, or at least appear relaxed. "Don't you think I have potential?"

My father cleared his throat, a faint smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Of course, son. This could be a big opportunity for our pack." His tone was clipped, but I took the compliment for what it was. "You've done well."

I nodded, standing up and grabbing my bag. "I'll be off now."

I'd made it halfway to the door when his voice stopped me cold. "Claude-did you remember your medicine? You know what happened last time."

My hand clenched the strap of my bag as I paused. Glancing over my shoulder, I gave him a stiff nod. "How could I forget?"

Three days.

That's how long it had been since I was taken. Chained in this dungeon, my wrists rubbed raw, the cold stone walls pressing against me. Water dripped from the ceiling, echoing in the small space, but the sound of the door unlocking cut through the steady rhythm.

A man, no older than thirty, entered, flanked by two others. His green eyes swept over me, and he strode forward, gripping my chin between rough fingers.

"This is him?" he asked the men behind him, never breaking eye contact with me.

"Yes," one of them confirmed.

As his eyes roamed over me, something shifted deep inside me. I felt different-like something was about to change in ways I couldn't control. And what terrified me most wasn't that change was coming, but that I would be the one to change.

The border loomed ahead of me, a familiar checkpoint between werewolf and human territory. I stepped out of the car, gun tucked into the waistband of my jeans, the weight of my bag heavy on my shoulder. The officers guarding the border nodded after checking my letter of passage, allowing me through without question.

An hour later, I arrived at the spot I'd marked on the map. A white van approached from the distance, and I could feel my pulse quicken, my instincts sharpening. I wasn't sure what I'd expected, but when the van stopped and the door slid open, the stench of humans hit me like a slap.

"Tate?" The man who stepped out squinted at me, glancing down at the tablet in his hand before meeting my eyes. "Tate Frank?"

I forced a smile, lowering my hand away from the gun. "Yeah. That's me."

The man eyed me for a moment before stepping aside to let me in. Four humans were already inside-three women, eyes sharp and curious, and one man who seemed determined to ignore everything around him. I slid into the seat beside a blonde girl who couldn't have been more than twenty.

The door slammed shut behind me, and I could feel the eyes of the others burning into me. The blonde was already staring, a smirk playing on her lips.

"Um... hey. Do you know where they're taking us?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

Her smirk widened, and she let out a small giggle. "Oh, a first-timer."

The others all turned to me, their eyes dancing with something that made my stomach tighten. Heat crept up my neck, and I realized just how little I knew about what was coming next.

She grabbed my arm and leaned in closer, her breath warm against my ear. "They don't reveal the location of the yacht for security reasons, but I heard..." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "It's headed for New York. And lucky for us, we're not that far off."

I nodded, trying to resist the urge to pull away from her touch. Diana seemed nice enough, but being touched by strangers wasn't exactly my favorite thing.

"Anyway, my name's Amelia. What's yours?" She looked at me expectantly, her curiosity genuine. I managed a smile, reminding myself of the fake identity I'd need to use for the next two weeks-assuming this wasn't some elaborate prank. "Tate."

---

Well, fuck me-it was real.

I stood at the loading docks, staring up at the biggest, most expensive-looking yacht I'd ever laid eyes on. It was a sleek, towering hull, its polished white exterior gleaming in the sunlight, with elegant balconies and soft lights accentuating its luxurious design.

"Impressive, huh?" Amelia's voice snapped me back to reality. She smiled, gesturing toward the gleaming vessel. "Wait until you see the inside."

The van that had brought us here was already pulling away. I pulled out my phone, checking the time: just past four.

"How long have you been doing this... pet thing?" I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.

Amelia grinned. "This is my third time. The pay's good. I make over fifty grand each trip."

Her eyes flicked to the phone in my hand. "Just a heads up-they don't allow phones onboard. And you'll be frisked by security, so..." She leaned in, placed her hand on my back and her voice lowering. "If you've got any weapons, now's the time to get rid of them."

My stomach tightened. I glanced around to make sure no one was watching before slipping the gun from my waistband. With a quick flick of my wrist, I tossed it into the water and hurried to catch up with Amelia, gripping the railing of the boarding ramp.

"How did you know?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

She threw a look over her shoulder, eyes gleaming with amusement. "When you got off the bus, your shirt rode up a little." She smirked. "I saw it."

I exhaled sharply, cursing myself for not being more careful.

"Thank you, Amelia," I said, just as she stopped and placed her palm against my chest.

"You don't have to thank me." She leaned in closer, her eyes darkening slightly. "You're a sweet boy... I'd hate to see you go to waste."

Her words made me frown, my mind catching on something unspoken.

With only one person left between us and security, I grabbed her arm, stopping her from moving forward. "What do you mean by that?"

"Just be careful, Tate," she cut me off with a warm smile. "This place can be a fucking dangerous one."

I loosened my grip, and she easily slipped her arm away, moving ahead to stand before the security guard.

"Name?" the guard asked.

"Amelia Reed," she responded smoothly.

It was my turn next. I tightened my hold on my bag as I stepped forward.

"Name?" the man asked, his gaze drifting over me.

"Tate Frank," I said, keeping my voice even.

The guard glanced down at his tablet, then back up at me, his eyes squinting. "It says here you've got brown eyes and glasses," he said, clearing his throat.

I forced a smile. "I'm wearing contacts now."

The guard grunted, glancing at the tablet again before muttering, "Shame. You looked better with the glasses."

I bit back a retort, watching as he took my bag. "You'll get it back after we search it," he said flatly.

Once the check was complete and my phone confiscated, I followed the same path Diana had taken. Her voice drifted to me before I could fully catch sight of her.

"I'm glad you made it, Tate," she said, smiling as she stepped closer. For once, I didn't mind seeing her again.

I took in our surroundings-there were around thirty of us now, gathered on the deck-before turning back to Amelia. "What happens now?"

She raised her left hand, showing me a small block of chains, her smile becoming sharper. "Now, when the clock strikes six and the yacht sets sail... we meet our buyers through that door."

CLAUDE

THE YACHT JOLTED to life the moment the clock hit six, and I felt it in my bones. Turning to my side, I caught Amelia's gaze already locked on me.

"Come on, Tate, get that chain around your neck," she grinned, slipping out of the short black dress she'd been wearing, leaving only the barest pair of matching black underwear.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked, my eyes widening, glancing around. Everyone else? Half-naked.

Amelia laughed softly, pulling my attention back to her. "Oh, you didn't know what you were getting into?" She gave me a light pat on the arm, her gaze turning almost sympathetic. "Relax, it's just for show. No one's asking you to strip completely. Just the shirt." I exhaled hard, fingers gripping the cool metal chain in my hand. There was no reason to panic. No one here knew me, and if something went south, I could easily take any one of these humans. I was stronger. Better.

"Oh, God, you're like a lost puppy," Amelia's voice pulled me back, her hands on my shoulders now. I hated how much I craved that touch, how her lack of arousal was oddly comforting in a room full of lust.

"Did you seriously not look into this at all before signing up?" She shook her head, exasperated, like a mom about to give her kid a life lesson. "Okay, listen. First, we walk out those doors-" Her words were cut off by the sound of the sliding doors opening and low murmurs filling the room. "Shit. Okay, no time. You put that chain on and stay in the moment. You can reject up to three people, but after the third one, they'll throw you off the yacht. Got it?"

She gave me a once-over, then added, "Now, get your shirt off and chain up."

I watched as she fell in line with the others, giving me one last glance before disappearing out the door.

My heart was racing now. What the hell was I doing here? Was I, Claude Adams, the son of an Alpha, really about to sell myself for two weeks to be some human's pet?

The uncomfortable answer was a yes.

I wouldn't even think twice about diving into the water, swimming all the way back to my pack if I had to. With one quick motion, I tugged the shirt off, clipped the chain around my neck, and bolted out as the last person left the room.

When I finally glanced around, most of the... Pets-Goddess, that word still felt so strange, even in my own head-were kneeling, eyes downcast, careful not to meet the buyers' gaze. I found a spot off to the side and sank down, letting my eyes sweep over the scene.

Men and women, dressed like they had walked off the cover of some high-end magazine, moved through the room, assessing the merchandise. Us. My senses went on high alert when a woman, older than most here, paused in front of me. She wore a long green dress, the fabric parting at both sides. Her face was powdered to perfection, her hair styled in careful, curling waves.

"Well, aren't you a handsome young man?" Her voice was thick with amusement, and before I could prepare myself, the thick scent of her arousal hit me hard. It was everywhere in the room, but hers felt suffocating.

"I know the starting bid is forty grand, but I'm willing to go up to seventy if it means having you all to myself." She leaned in, and her cleavage was front and center, leaving nothing to the imagination.

I swallowed, eyes darting around, looking for an out, but I was trapped. Not trying to be rude, I managed a, "I'll pass. I'm still... weighing my options." Even I wasn't convinced by my answer, but I had to say something. The truth was, no one in this room interested me. They hadn't for the last five years.

"A shame, baby. I would've taken good care of you."

As she strutted away, relief washed over me, but not for long. A man, probably not much older than me, appeared in her place. His tailored black pants left little to the imagination as he openly showed off his arousal, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"I saw you turn down Madam Fiona over there," he chuckled, "and as much as that's a surprise, I can't say I'm unhappy about it." His eyes raked over my body like I was something to eat. I shuddered, trying to hide the disgust crawling up my spine. He shamelessly palmed himself, lips parted in what he probably thought was a seductive grin.

"Just seeing you on your knees in front of me... if it's money you want, I can give you that. I'll give you whatever you want." His voice was thick with confidence, and it took everything not to roll my eyes. Money? That was the last thing I needed. Hell, I could buy out this entire yacht and every pet here without even putting a dent in my fortune.

"Come on, boy. Speak up."

I felt the weight of someone's gaze on me and tilted my head slightly, catching sight of a man leaning against the far wall. His legs were casually crossed, a drink in one hand, the other shoved into his pocket. But his eyes-they never left mine, even when I looked back at him. The energy between us crackled, and as he pushed off the wall and walked toward me, I couldn't tear my eyes away.

He stopped beside the old man-whoever the hell he was-but his focus was all on me.

"Mr. Vlad," he said smoothly, "I didn't realize men were your thing."

Vlad let out a grunt, his eyes still on me. "They're not. But this one... He calls out to me."

I studied him more carefully now. His hair was neatly styled to one side, thick and perfectly groomed. Those gray eyes-sharp, almost predatory-seemed to cut through me, right into my soul. And his lips... full and soft. Too soft. I had the sudden, insane urge to taste them.

The old man-still don't know his name-grinned. "Shame, because he was just about to accept my offer."

But I didn't even glance at him. I was locked in a stare with the man in front of me, and the world felt like it had shrunk down to just the two of us.

He chuckled, then leaned down, his free hand coming up to grip my chin, tilting my face up just enough so I couldn't look away. "Tell me..." he paused, waiting for me to fill in the blank.

"Tate," I finally said, giving him the name from my fake ID. His brow furrowed, but he didn't let go.

"Well, Tate... would you like to be mine?"

For the first time in years, I felt my body respond. My cock stirred, a rush of heat pulsing through me, and I knew in that moment, I wasn't going to say no. Not to him. Not when he made me feel like we were the only two people in the room.

"Yes," I whispered, the word barely escaping my lips. A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face as he released my chin and stood to his full height.

"You heard him, Antonio. He's mine."

The old man-Antonio-grumbled under his breath, shooting me one last glare before he stalked off, muttering, "Didn't even fucking name a price."

I didn't care. My eyes were already back on the man in front of me. He downed the rest of his drink, then held out his hand, and I realized I was still kneeling. I took his hand, standing on unsteady legs, trying to breathe as he stepped in closer, one hand coming back to my chin. His thumb stroked my bottom lip, sending a shiver down my spine.

"Now," he said in a low murmur, "why don't we finish this conversation in our room... Tate."

NIKOLAI

THERE WAS SOMETHING about this boy-something that kept me from walking away. I hadn't come here to take someone. My only objective was finding information about my missing cargo-twelve containers, worth over seventeen billion dollars. Yet here I was, tugging at my tie, my eyes trained on him-Tate.

Or at least, that's what he wanted to be called.

"Before we start anything, I think it's best we get to know each other first." My voice was calm, controlled, as I slipped my hands into my pockets and leveled my gaze on him. He was watching me with wary eyes, like he wasn't sure if he should trust me. Smart.

"How about we start with your name?" I added, keeping my tone neutral, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes-hesitation, uncertainty.

"But you-"

"Your real name," I cut him off, watching the way his breath hitched, the way his chest rose and fell a little quicker now.

"How did you-"

"I didn't," I said with a small shrug. "You just don't look like a Tate." I stepped closer, watching as he took a reflexive step back, his body pressing against the wall. The air between us was charged, and I could feel the heat of his breath on my skin. My hand moved, fingers lightly grazing the skin of his waist, sending a tremor through him.

"Tell me," I urged, my voice dropping lower, more insistent. His cheeks flushed, and his lips parted slightly, as if he was struggling to get the words out.

"Claude," he whispered, and I smiled. It suited him better.

"Claude," I repeated softly, savoring the way it rolled off my tongue. "That's so much better."

I pulled back, giving him a little space, but my gaze remained locked on him. I scanned the room for cameras, for bugs-anything that might compromise me-but found nothing. Not that it would matter if I did. When I looked back, he was still standing there, cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling with quick breaths, and I couldn't stop the reaction that shot through me.

My cock hardened painfully, the sight of him, vulnerable and flushed, doing things to me that I hadn't expected.

"How old are you, Claude?" I asked, watching as he finally moved, stepping away from the wall and settling on the love seat, his eyes flickering toward the file I had tossed on the bed earlier.

"I don't trust anything written in that file." I stepped forward, my eyes narrowing as I studied him. "I want to hear it from you... because you look..." I trailed off, my brows pulling together. His features were soft, almost delicate, but his body was a contradiction-lean, strong, packed with muscle. He looked young. Too young that I had to pause in my steps.

"Young," I finished.

"I'm twenty-four," he said, his gaze holding mine. I watched him carefully, looking for any sign of a lie, but there was none. He was telling the truth.

Silence hung between us for a beat, then Claude broke it. "How old are you, Nikolia?" His voice was soft, and I was surprised he remembered my name from earlier when Antonio had mentioned it.

"Thirty-five," I said, my voice steady. I paused, studying his reaction. "Does that make you uncomfortable, Claude?"

He shook his head, his breath coming out in a soft exhale. "No, it doesn't."

Those parted lips, the flush on his cheeks-it was enough to make me close the space between us in an instant. My hand snaked around his neck, my thumb brushing across his bottom lip before pressing it between those soft lips.

"Good," I murmured, my voice thick with intent. "Because Claude..." I pushed my thumb into his mouth, watching the way his eyes widened as I continued, "I'm going to make you all mine."

CLAUDE

To say that I was extremely hard would be an understatement. Even after hours of Nikolai leaving the room, the throbbing heat between my legs refused to go away. I sat on the couch, sighing in frustration as I fisted my cock through my dark jeans. It had been so long-so damn long since I had felt anything close to this, and here I was, completely undone by a human. The thought sent a shiver through me, but the burning between my legs wouldn't settle.

Shaking my head, I stood up, making my way to the shower. Maybe I just needed to cool off, to let my mind clear, and maybe rethink what just happened. The cold water blasted against my skin, but it didn't help. My cock stayed rock hard, defying the cold.

"Fuck," I groaned, wrapping my fingers around the shaft, squeezing in a vain attempt to ease the tension. But nothing. No matter how cold the water was, how hard I tried to ignore it, the need wouldn't go away. My cock throbbed in my hand, refusing to soften, and my mind kept circling back to him-Nikolai.

Flashes of Nikolai's hands on me, his breath hot against my skin, rushed through my mind. His grip, the way he whispered into my ear, had my body burning. I stroked myself harder, faster-the cold water did nothing to calm me down.

"Tell me," came his voice, smooth, deep, like honey that melted over me. My body froze, every muscle locking in place as I snapped my eyes open. I hadn't even realized they were closed.

I didn't dare move-couldn't. My left hand stayed braced against the tiled wall while the other remained wrapped around my cock, straining for release.

"What were you thinking about that had you so worked up?" His voice-God, that voice-drifted closer. I felt him just behind me, his breath warm against my neck, and my cock throbbed in response. I bit back a groan and sucked in a shaky breath.

"Tell me, Claude," he whispered, the heat of him pressing in on all sides. "What was going through your mind?"

My lips parted on instinct, and the truth slipped out before I could stop it. "You"

A low chuckle, dark and smooth, sent a wave of pleasure crashing through me, and I almost came right there-right against the goddamn wall-from just that sound.

"Is that right?" Nikolai's hands came around my waist, slow, deliberate, and one of them closed over my own, gripping my cock. My head fell back with a choked cry, mouth open, barely able to breathe.

"Yes," I gasped as he took control of my rhythm, his hand moving back and forth, teasing me with his lazy strokes.

"Then why don't you let me take care of you?" he murmured, his breath hot against my ear.

I released myself and let my body sink back into his. I was completely under his spell, my head resting on his shoulder, my eyes shutting once again as I let him have every part of me.

"That's it," Nikolai purred, his voice a seductive whisper. "Let go for me." His strokes quickened, each one sending sparks through my body. My balls tightened as pleasure coiled inside me, making me tremble. My toes curled against the slick floor.

"You're so fucking hot, Claude," he said," So beautiful," he whispered and that was it-his voice, his hands, his body. I was lost.

Tears stung my eyes as the orgasm slammed through me, ripping a cry from my throat. My body convulsed as wave after wave crashed over me, and the only thing keeping me upright was Nikolai's firm hold, his arms supporting me while I fell apart in his hands.

Goddamn it, that was hot. That was...

"Feel good?" Nikolai's voice broke through the haze behind me, and I jerked forward, spinning around to face him. Heat spread up my neck, my cheeks burning as I stood there, staring at the man who had just made me feel... what was it he said? Yes, feel good for the first time in years.

My lips were dry, and words failed me. Nikolai spared me the awkwardness, stepping closer. His fingers found my wet curls, twisting them between his fingers, his gaze never leaving my face.

"God, you are so fucking beautiful." His voice, low and rough, sent a shiver down my spine as he shook his head and took a step back. My eyes traveled downward, noticing for the first time that he was only wearing a black brief.

When our eyes met again, his lips curved into a smirk. "I brought you food. It's pretty late out."

I nodded, swallowing hard, and made my way toward the door. But something held me back, and I glanced over my shoulder. "Thank you," I said, my voice soft, barely recognizable.

His smirk deepened, and he tilted his head, hooking his fingers into the waistband of his briefs, slowly tugging them down. "For which one?" he asked, voice thick with amusement.

I didn't answer. Instead, I slammed the bathroom door shut and leaned against it, heart racing. My eyes flicked to the tray of food resting on the nightstand.

Oh, Nikolai, I believe you know exactly which one.