Read Healer's Choice for Free Online Page B

Dorrit’s lineup tonight.”
    Kala’s nose wrinkled. Her lips pulled back in a show of distaste and disdain that was shared by all of the prostitutes who no longer had to work in the brothel catering to the lowest class of humans and Weres.
    The Lioness leaned forward, the intensity of her gaze warning Rebekka she’d have to be careful not to let her body tell the truth while her words said something else.
    “I heard a rumor today,” Kala said, whispering despite it only being the two of them. “I heard Levi intends to buy out Feliss’s contract and set her up somewhere as his little snack.”
    Kala made a show of licking her lips.
    “I don’t think the rumor is true,” Rebekka said, and thought she must have done a credible job of lying when Kala leaned back and cocked her head, then shrugged and stood.
    “I’m glad. She’s prey and always will be. Bad enough he takes what she offers him, but for Levi to elevate her above the other females he mounts and treat her like a mate . . .” Kala’s lips pulled back once again in disgust. “It’s perverse.”
    Rebekka closed her eyes as Kala left the room. Sleep descended, claiming her until she was roused by a bouncer from Dorrit’s house.
    “You’re needed,” he said, accompanying her through the dungeon and then the passageway connecting the two buildings.
    Rebekka heard drunken sobbing and pleading well before she reached the parlor. When she got there, two bouncers held a man between them. He was on his knees, begging for his life.
    Dorrit stood in front of him, boar tusks and small black eyes in a round human face giving the impression of cold savagery. She lifted her hand, halting Rebekka and the bouncer in the doorway.
    Gathered into the small space was a collection of other humans. Most were bleary-eyed from drink, rounded up from the bar and brought in to serve as witnesses.
    Few of them were looking at the man. Instead they feasted on the lined-up prostitutes, stared with tongues darting out to moisten their lips as they fantasized about being able to afford sex that was more expensive than what was offered in the bar.
    “The vice lord Allende is tolerant,” Dorrit told the kneeling man, receiving murmurs of agreement when she glanced around. “But this is your second offense.”
    With a signal from her the prostitutes moved, parting in the middle to reveal a woman lying on the floor behind them, her body curled in a fetal position, her face a bloodied, broken mess.
    One of the gathered humans vomited, spewing beer onto brown tile at the sight. Rebekka gave a cry, recognizing Feliss, but was stopped from rushing forward by the bouncer’s grip on her arm.
    Dorrit turned everyone’s attention back to the kneeling man by saying, “The vice lord Allende is tolerant but a second offense can’t go unpunished. Put him out.”
    The man began struggling then. Fighting in earnest.
    Those brought in from the bar or pulled from the rooms moved deeper into the parlor, as far from the front doors as they could get.
    Dorrit pressed her thumb to a pad. She was one of only a few who could open the doors once the locks were engaged at nightfall.
    Unlike the humans who played in the Victorian clubs with names like Sinners, Envy, and Greed, the Were bouncers didn’t arm themselves with guns or wear padded protection to step out into the night. They threw the brothel patron to the mercy of the predators, lingered for a moment before stepping inside, doors closing and locks engaging behind them.
    The humans who’d pushed to the back of the parlor rushed forward to enjoy the free entertainment. The Weres were less obvious, yet their eyes darkened and flickered with satisfaction, and more than one of them wore a hungry expression as outside feral dogs and wolves attacked, tearing and shredding and growling as they made sport of their meal.
    Rebekka went to Feliss. Anger swelled inside her with the knowledge that the human whose screams ended abruptly died not because