Chapter Twelve

An Unsettling Understanding

Draco awoke to disquieting sounds of grunting and moaning not far from him. From somewhere . . . on the other side of a wall? He immediately tried to shove to his feet, only to bash his head against a low ceiling.

Groaning, he crumbled to the ground as if he'd never stood, cradling the top of his skull. Fabric pooled around him and even in this moment of pain and disorientation, he was relieved to realize that Greyback had at least had the shocking decency to put his robes back on him before dragging him off to wherever they hell he was now.

A distinctly feminine shriek cut the air, startling him. His first instinct was to jump up and seek out the source of the sound, but his head still throbbed from the last attempt and well, there was something about that shriek that did not sound remotely like pain or terror.

His stomach roiled as he pushed aside a pretty good idea of what he was overhearing.

Draco looked about his surroundings. He was in a small room, possibly a storage space of a cottage or hut of some sort? There was a low, doorless entryway to his left.

Steeling himself against what he would see, he shuffled over to the entryway and ducked out his head. He meant to scan the area when movement caught his attention.

Turning his head, he found his suspicion confirmed. There was Greyback, on his knees, withdrawing from a woman who just as fast all but toppled forward, ecstatic little gasps still escaping her. He righted his robes while he climbed to his feet, near as though nothing had just happened.

"More," she pleaded quietly, quickly scrambling back up onto her hands and knees.

The elder wolf chuckled, granting her wish after a fashion as he thrust his fingers into her. Draco turned away, his eyes squeezing closed as he clamped his hands over his ears to block the disturbing sounds of pleasure issuing from her throat in response. He was beyond relieved that it wasn't Hermione's voice he heard—of course, he never imagined Hermione would willingly shag Greyback, but then it wouldn't surprise him for Greyback to think Imperius'ing her into wanting to would just be a marvelous idea.

Another shriek cut through the muffling effect of his cupped palms. In spite of himself, he unshielded his ears, not putting it past the foul creature to murder the woman he'd just been rutting. But no, to his disgust, she was still writhing around, moaning softly.

"No more." Greyback's voice was gruff as he withdrew his fingers, offering her no room to argue. "You've work to do."

The woman whimpered, but it was a sound playful and mischievous as it was desperate, while she dragged herself to her feet and started dressing. "Fine. But I expect much more when this is done."

Draco recognized her voice now, realizing who she was before she turned so that he could see her face. Miss Shaw?

"You!" He exploded across the room, but Greyback was on his feet and holding the younger werewolf back faster than a heartbeat.

Mirna smiled at him, her expression slightly dazed from the rush of recent orgasms, but otherwise she looked perfectly lucid. Her gaze flicked to Greyback's. "Are all werewolves like you?"

"Not even close. You'd do well to stay away from this one, here," Greyback's voice was disturbingly gentle. "He's mine. You don't touch what's mine without my say."

"I know," she said her tone a bit petulant. Mirna Shaw barely offered a backward glance as she fussed to make her robes seem disheveled, even going so far as to tear some fabric at one shoulder, and left the sad little hovel.

"What the hell was that?" Draco demanded, shaking off Greyback's hold and backpedaling a step. He was quite aware he no longer had his wand and was no match for Fenrir Greyback in a fight. He had no choice but to cooperate, but that didn't mean he had to stand near the bastard. "Why is she working with you? Is it a spell? Did you cast an Imperius her?"

Greyback laughed, a rich, hearty sound as he shook his head. "Different kind of magic at work there, Pup."

Draco frowned, his stomach souring. "Sorry, didn't realize your cock was magical."

"Oh," the elder wolf said, laughing again, "I actually think I like you. It's exactly that simple, but it's also not. You know the funny thing about humans? Any human—not you, you're a werewolf, not our girl, she's got wolf blood in her—even the ones who've magic?"

Bristling at the reference to Hermione as 'their girl', Draco refused to ask.

Smiling, Greyback decided to oblige him with an answer, anyway. He held the younger wolf's gaze steadily, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light of early dawn breaking through the hovel's windows. "Humans are even more primal than we are. More base. You fuck 'em good enough—the way only one of us could—and they'll do anything to you ask in hopes of getting a piece of you."

Draco didn't want to entertain this discussion any longer. Backpedaling another step, he looked about the small interior, trying to put as much space between himself and Greyback as possible while making it clear he wasn't trying to run away. He knew any such attempt wouldn't turn out well for him.

"What's this work she has to do for you?" Draco wouldn't bother asking what the hell Miss Shaw messing up her robes had to do with it. He already had an inking. Hardly took a genius, though, did it?

Fenrir shrugged, taking a seat in a broken down chair, somehow making it look like a throne in the midst of a trash heap. "Oh, I thought you'd have realized." He drew in a deep breath and let it out slow, his gaze slightly mad as he grinned. "She's going to bring me what's mine."

Yes, Draco had realized, but none of this seemed like it could really be happening. His. The way Greyback saw him, the way he saw Hermione and the baby.

The baby . . . .

Draco felt the awareness of everything that had transpired hit him like a punch in the gut. "How . . . how certain are you that Granger's pregnant?" he asked, his voice barely a thread of sound.

Fenrir Greyback tipped his head to one side in a look that would've been sympathy from anyone else—from Greyback, Draco hadn't the faintest idea what that look was. "I would stake my life on it. The scent winding off her, which I suspect is quiet recent? You probably didn't even recognize it well enough to understand what it was, but I did. It only comes from an expectant she-wolf."

So . . . he was going to be a father, after all? His heart leapt at the thought, but just as quickly, Draco got a hold of himself. They had to get out of this, had to deal with Greyback and get him out of their lives for good, first.

"And what of Miss Shaw? You going to bite her, too? Make her yours?"

Snorting a chuckle, Greyback shook his head. "No. After she kills her partner and brings me the girl, she'll have outlived her usefulness to me."

Draco felt his chest go cold at how calmly Greyback spoke of the matter. He, himself, didn't think of being a werewolf as any sort of reward, but . . . . "You're going to kill her?"

Smiling, the elder werewolf gave an easy shrug and nodded. "What else do you do with a thing once you've broken it?"