Taken: The Viking Werewolf's Concubine Book Three: Taken: The Viking Werewolf's Concubine, #3

By Desiree Broussard

Briony survived devastated Earth.

She survived being taken by the werewolves, just like she survived the primitive competition that decided her future as concubine to one of the most powerful werewolves on Scorched. But when she breaks Rolf's rules, she's horrified by his reaction. Up until that point, Briony has only seen the man. Now, it's time to see the animal...

This book is part of an ongoing series. It is not a standalone. Each release in this smokin' hot series is 17,000 to 19,000 words in length. Enjoy!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Desiree Broussard
• Release date: Aug 14, 2016
• ISBN: 9781536550092

Book preview

Chapter 1

DON'T STARE AT ME LIKE that, Rolf warned Briony, his expression harsh in the darkness. He gestured for her to sit on a wooden chair before turning away to flip a switch. Her eyes widened, at least her uninjured one did, as she took in the large, spacious room and muted elegance of her surroundings.

Compared to the primitiveness of the village, the house was paradise. With its stucco exterior and high arches above the windows, it looked surprisingly... Spanish. And practical. Scorched was as hot as its name, at least during the day.

The ceilings were high, and the floors consisted of tile, leaving the kitchen and living room airy. High above their heads, two ceiling fans rotated lazily. Even though it was night, and the temperature had dropped significantly, Briony still appreciated the light breeze. For the first time since they took her, she felt as if she could breathe. Even so, her body was an odd mix of hot and cold, her nerves shot from pain, fear, and the uncertainty of her future.

Like what? she asked belatedly, in a halting voice, her eyes locked on the countertop in front of her. Rolf terrified her as much as he intrigued her. Yet, she couldn't say the same for him. His opinion of her seemed to change by the moment. At times, he was almost friendly, while at others he was downright hostile—as if he resented her. Clearly, he resents me, she reminded herself. After all, hadn't he all but told me so? Taking responsibility for her was something he hadn't wanted to do. But he had, and he was going to make sure she paid for every moment of his misery, she was sure of it.

Briony looked up when he held out a blanket. Immediately she blushed at the reminder of her nudity. Somewhere along the way, Rolf managed to dress. The short-sleeved shirt and shorts hugged his well-defined muscles like a second skin. He waited until she rose to wrap the blanket around herself before answering, "Like a wounded animal. Like something so broken it'll never be rebuilt."

He stopped as if he had to force himself to, his perfectly formed lips compressing together into a harsh, solid line as he turned to walk away. Briony gaped at his back, unsure of how to respond. He had summed up her emotions, her very thoughts perfectly, with just one grimly muttered statement. She did feel broken. Hopeless. As bad as her captivity had been—and still was—she could have coped, endured, just so long as she knew there was an end in sight.

However, there wasn't. And her captors knew it. The werewolves had honed their craft well. They didn't just abduct people; they also put them through events so horrible it destroyed them mentally, leaving nothing good behind. Without hope, there was no point in fighting. Without hope, there was only compliance. Briony felt worthless, as if her life no longer mattered. It didn't matter, not beyond her slave duties.

Briony was no stranger to struggles, but back on Earth, she wasn’t held captive. She'd still had her freedom, even though having it required her to be cautious. However, most of all, she'd had the possibility to change her circumstances. There had been the possibility that maybe one day the plight of the population would make a turn around and there would be food and medicines again. And friends. Family. Love. People could once again walk the streets without fear of a mugging or rape. Happiness.

Her throat painfully clogged with tears she couldn't shed—wouldn't shed—because of the man—the werewolf—with his back facing her as he looked through a cabinet. She was so beaten down by her plight that life back on Earth felt more like a dream than a reality she'd once lived. The man in front of owned her; her body and her very will was his to do with as he saw fit. Her very existence depended on his whims and goodwill.

She wanted to kill him. She wanted to kill them all. as Briony furiously blinked back the hot tears threatening to fall down her face, she fought for control... then wondered why she even bothered. Attacking him would likely end in her death. Compared to a future as his slave, death felt like the better option.

Rolf returned with a towel thrown over his shoulder and a basin of water in his hands. Briony watched him, her eyes filled with angry tears. His eyes flickered to her face, his own expression turning grim. He hadn't liked whatever he'd seen. The knowledge of that filled her with satisfaction. Rolf might control her fate, but he could never force her to like it. None of them could.

He placed the bowl of water on the counter next to her before reaching inside to wring out a washcloth.