Pricolici by Alicia Nordwell

clichéd megalomaniac propaganda. His wound didn't seem to bother him at all. He went straight for the front door, not even attempting to make a stealthy retreat. Tucker could barely keep on his feet as his head spun.
    Where were Grecia and all the guards on the property? Where was Stelian? Had Phell done something to him? Tucker hoped he was okay, and that he would come for him before this maniac could mate them. He tried a final time to stop the inexorable march outside, holding onto the porch column, but even with a gunshot wound the male was stronger than he was.
    He looked up. A full moon.
    Shit! If Phell bit him and got his haitas to acknowledge the link….
    Tucker lurched and wrapped his arm around one of the columns. The lupe holding him yanked violently, and Tucker lost his one-handed grip. He tumbled down the steps and fell hard to his knees on the gravel walkway. Blood dripped onto the rocks from the cut on his knee as the gravel ground into his flesh. Tucker cried out as his arm was wrenched up behind his back by the lupe now standing behind him.
    “Get up. Walk. There’s a clearing in the woods ahead. We’ll mate there.”
    Tucker winced as he stepped on rocks and pine cones with his bare feet. He walked as slowly as he could, but Phell pushed him forward, keeping his arm twisted behind his back so Tucker had no hope of getting away. He knew he’d only get a broken arm if he tried.
    “Where are you, Stelian?” Tucker muttered under his breath. He focused on the ancient lupe, trying to connect with him, astral project or something. Anything to tell Stelian where this maniac was taking him—if he was close enough to reach them, he had to know how to find Tucker if he was going to save him.
    Phell laughed. “You'll be waiting for a long time if you think he's going to be coming. I left him a little…distraction… at the first place I hunted tonight. I'm going to take you away from Stelian and make you my mate in the haitas' ceremonial spot. If he lives, he'll know I made you mine, but he won’t be able to do anything about it. He won't dare challenge me with a hultan at my side.”
    Despair swamp him. He was on his own and there was no way he could fight off the much larger lupe. Rain began to fall in a soft patter. Tucker felt hot tears slide down his cheeks to mix with the cool raindrops. He stumbled to a halt in a small clearing a few hundred yards from the house. The full moon bathed the raindrops on the grass with a silvery glow, but the beauty of the scene was lost on Tucker.
    Still holding his arm locked, the lupe reached around Tucker and raked at the tie of his sweats. He slid a claw inside the waistband and sliced right through the knot. His pants barely hung onto his lean hips. One push and they fell to Tucker's knees, exposing him to the cool night air.
    Tucker lost the calm he’d struggled to hold on to. A moan broke through his clenched teeth, and he fought with all he had. He kicked backward at Phell, but missed his knee. Flinging his head back, Tucker tried to nail Phell in the face, but the lupe was too tall. Phell pulled his arm up higher, snarling. “Stop fighting it.”
    Tucker tried to lunge away from the grip, unwilling to just give in. He couldn’t. He screamed with pain as his shoulder popped.
    White hot agony blinded him. The lupe let go of his arm and it dangled, limp. Tucker reached for his arm, but didn’t touch it.  His shoulder was a misshapen lump—Phell had dislocated the joint. He stumbled back, fighting the pain screaming through his body, as Phell snarled and took a step toward him. His arm swung loose, and Tucker cried out again. The pain from the dislocation was so bad Tucker's head swam, and he could barely see. He tried running anyway, but he got only two steps away before he was tackled to the ground.
    His breath locked in his chest. He’d never felt anything so painful, not even the last beating in his old haitas.
    He writhed in pain and panic, feeling the