Free Prey by Rachel Vincent Page B

gotten rid of Marc—for the moment—but I’d rather die than let someone else decide who I would marry. Or that I would marry at all. That decision was all mine, and if the council thought otherwise, they could happily go fuck themselves.
    Regarding Manx’s trial, my best guess was that they would spare her life because, unlike me, she was obviously willing to bear desperately needed children. But there was a catch. She was not willing to be touched by a man. Any man, other than Dr. Carver, whom she’d shown no attraction to. And that would seem to make any future children from her pretty damn hard to come by.
    Fortunately, Michael had come to Georgia in a professional capacity, and would no doubt emphasize to the tribunal that Manx was still severely traumatized, but that with time, she would recover and hopefully go on to live a normal life. Including a husband and more children.
    Though I personally thought that husband would have to be a brave soul indeed…
    “So…if they save me? What then?”
    “Oh, now you’re asking the tough questions.” Ismiled, trying to relax her. And to avoid mentioning that whatever happened after her trial would depend heavily on her sentence. “But the way I see it, you have a few options. You can come back to the ranch and stay with us. Everyone would love to have you. Though I don’t think the council will let you stay in Texas forever.”
    With both me and Kaci on the ranch, the south-central Pride was already estrogen-heavy, and the other Alphas would never let my father “keep” three fertile tabbies.
    “If you don’t eventually join another Pride, I suspect our Territorial Council will choose one for you.” Which meant she would be claimed by the Alpha who wielded the most power. “And they would probably expect you to marry one of their sons.”
    And if, by some catastrophe, Calvin Malone wound up in charge of the council, Manx might live the rest of her life as his daughter-in-law, which probably wouldn’t be much better than life in captivity with Luiz.
    I’d only avoided a similar fate myself because my father was reluctant to force me into a marriage, and because he remained convinced that I would eventually marry Marc on my own. But all of Manx’s close family members had died in a hostile takeover by a neighboring Pride, shortly after she had been kidnapped by Miguel and Luiz. In fact, her disappearance was probably what had weakened her father’s hold on his territory—without her, he could promise his members no heir.
    So Manx and her son were alone in the world and,as with me, my father was the only thing standing between her and an unwanted marriage.
    Manx’s eyes widened, and the blood drained from her face as that fact sank in. “They would force me to…”
    “No!” I started to take her hand, then thought better of it and snatched mine back. “Not like Luiz did. The council would never stand for that.”
    But was forcing her into marriage any less reprehensible than what Miguel and his brother had done? Sure, she wouldn’t technically be raped, and neither Manx nor her children would be in any physical harm. But she’d be expected to submit on her own, night after night, to a man she didn’t love, so that she and Des would have a safe place to live.
    Because if Manx ever refused to bear the next generation, her life would cease to have value, and there would be little motivation for some members of the council to keep her alive. Which was exactly what I’d been told during my own trial.
    My blood boiled just thinking about it. The North American Prides were no more civilized than our neighbors to the south! We just dressed up barbarism better, cloaking injustice and oppression—and hell, prostitution —in pretty words like duty and honor.
    What a load of shit!
    Part of me wanted to march downstairs and demand every cat in the house join me in a protest, pushing for a tabby’s right to chose her own future. Fighting for it, if necessary.