Acquiring His Mate: The Huntsville Misfits Pack

By Kylie Marcus

Xander

My sire has sent me to Siberia, where I am attending an auction of bloodslaves. Truthfully, he's looking for his sister, fearful she's been captured by traffickers.

 

And as I inspect the goods, one catches my eye. A shifter, volatile and angry. But the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen.

 

As a slave myself, I'm not meant to mate or couple, but no one can resist the call when it comes. And I'm a weak man when it comes to India.

 

One bid, and I claim her, but I don't intend to take her back to my sire. He doesn't deserve her. After all, she's mine.

 

But like they say, if you love something, set it free ... So, I must do what I have to.

 

India

Inspired by the story of my twin's best friend, I travel the world saving shifters who are poached or trafficked. Until I find myself being trafficked too.

 

Now I'm chained in a dank dungeon in the middle of nowhere with no way to get in touch with my crew. I have to figure out a way to get myself out of here.

 

And then a vampire buys me. If he thinks for one second I'm letting him or his sire suck my blood, he's got another think coming.

 

I'm going to get the hell away from him and make my way back to Huntsville come hell or high water.

 

As for these mating feelings ... well, I can ignore them. Can't I?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kylie Marcus
• Release date: Aug 26, 2022
• ISBN: 9781988662329

Book preview

Acquiring His Mate

Acquiring His Mate

The Huntsville Misfits Pack

Kylie Marcus

Copyright © 2021 by Kylie Marcus

All rights reserved.

Printed in the United States of America.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

For information contact:

[e-mail]

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ISBN: 978-1-988662-32-9

First Edition: August 202

For my family.

Contents

India

Xander

India

Xander

India

Xander

India

Xander

India

Xander

India

Xander

India

Xander

India

Xander

India

Epilogue

About the Author

Also by Kylie Marcus

India

The soft sound of water dripping echoed around me. Plunk. Plunk. Plunk. It hit a puddle beneath it, adding the scent of stagnant water to the air. Around me, the rest of this place smells of mildew, death, and decay. An arid scent that burned my nostrils to life.

Groaning, I turned onto my side, stretching out my arm and feeling the rub of gravel under my skin. It scratched and bit my skin as I turned my palm into it, pressing myself off the ground.

Gravity pushed on my skull, making it throb harder the more awake I became. When I opened my eyes, it took me a moment to realize they were even open. The light was scant at best, and if not for my heightened vision, I wouldn’t have been able to see anything.

Reaching out ahead of me, my fingers grasp the cold iron bars of my cage. I followed their walls around in a small square, figuring that the full size of this cage could only be three and a half feet by three and a half feet. I was left hunched over when I tried to stand, so sitting was best.

Or being shifted is best.

The thought hit me. These cages were likely built for animals, not human forms. Looking at myself confirmed that they must’ve brought me in as my wolf form, seeing as I was naked. The cold of this room wouldn’t bother me the way it would a normal human. The heat running through my blood kept me as warm as if the fur of my wolf still covered my skin.

Leaning back against the bars, I pulled my knees to my chest to hug them as I tried to remember what happened leading up to me being here. 

I was working on a case in Europe of a trafficking pipeline where they were selling rare breed shifters from Asia. With Kylan’s help and his technology, we’d tracked down a warehouse where the shifters were last seen. My crew and I had been surveying it for over a week but had come up clean.

I’d investigated and found the warehouse was empty—no trace of any illegal activity. So, we took the evidence to the councils and turned it over for their security to continue the investigation. After my meeting with the heads of the individual councils, I’d been summoned to see someone.

My mind ached as I tried to recall the name the messenger had given me, but this is where it got fuzzy. I sensed that it was someone important—someone a part of the council who wanted to speak to me away from his peers because he had information about something.

But then, I couldn’t recall a conversation with him. I couldn’t even recall who he was.

I didn’t have time to think of it either as a door at the far end of the room creaked open, spilling bright orange light into the room. My eyes burned at the intensity, making me squeeze them shut. But I could hear the man walk into the room, his gait heavy as he lumbered across the gravel, making it crackle and snap underfoot. He breathed hard through his mouth, and he smelt like he hadn’t washed his balls in a while.

He was moving toward me, and if I hadn’t spent the last hundred years of my life tracking down pieces of shit like him and ending their organizations, I might’ve been scared. Mostly, I was pissed.

Either they knew who I was and were selling me based on that inherent value, or they had no idea, and I’d stumbled into a ring that didn’t care what type, age, or quality you were; they were just in it for the skin.

Up and out. He yanked one section of bars out like it hadn’t been locked, leaning in long enough to wrap his meaty hand around my forearm before he hauled me out of the cage and stood me up.

I want to speak to the seller. My back arched as I leaned away from his rotten smell, trying to look at him.

Walk. He didn’t even look at me, frog-marching me toward the door and out into the hallway. I raced to note everything I saw: plain gray concrete walls, exposed wires that were cut, damp lines of something leaking from the ceiling made dark swirls on the stone. At the end of the hallway, there was a single door and a staircase.

Behind the door, the smell of rotten flesh wafted out, turning my stomach, and making bile rise to the back of my throat. I did not want to go