My skin crawls at the attention, and it’s all I can do not to hide behind one of the men. Unfortunately, hiding isn’t going to get us out of this mess. The men are counting on me to rescue them.
No pressure or anything.
Tyler stirs with a groan. When he shuffles to his feet, my shoulders relax, and the anxiety twisting my insides eases at seeing that the majority of his injuries have healed. My wolf is still pissed that they would dare touch him, and my hands curl into fists, claws gouging into my palms as my wolf demands retribution.
Deep breath.
In.
Out.
The only thing that calms my wolf is seeing Tyler awake and relatively unharmed. The moist scent of soil and dust clogs my throat, and I grimace when the ominous atmosphere seeps into my lungs.
Though smudged with dirt, the men appear unscathed. Any prior injuries have healed while I was asleep—if you can call it sleep, when I don’t feel any more rested. The guys are more than ready to leave, and I’m actually surprised they waited. I would almost expect them to have broken open the cell door by now.
Pleasure warms me that they didn’t abandon me while I was unconscious, and I mentally cringe at how low a bar I have for males.
I don’t know if that says more about them or me.
Uncomfortable under their regard, I shuffle my feet but refuse to drop my gaze like an obedient female. While I trust them to a certain extent, I was raised to be suspicious of everyone. My phobias are too ingrained to vanish overnight. “How long was I out?”
I bite back a yawn, needing a few more hours of rest, but I’m adjusting to life on the run. Unsurprisingly, it’s very similar to life in Kyperian—sleep lightly, trust no one, always be prepared for an attack.
Yet I would take this new life in a heartbeat if given a choice.
The sweet taste of freedom is intoxicating.
I won’t go back, not without a fight.
“You rested for less than an hour,” Garth says with a scowl, and I don’t know if he’s annoyed I fell asleep draped over him and wasted precious time or…is he concerned about me?
It’s such a foreign concept that I fall mute.
Suddenly bashful, I clear my throat awkwardly and glance at the cell door. Magic crackles along the metal, and I tilt my head as I study it, grateful for the distraction. When I lift my hand to test the strength and weakness of the spells woven into the bars, Dante grabs my wrist.
He is so big, so masculine, that his fingers overlap a good bit.
Shifters are larger than life, and he’s no different.
The way he looks at me makes me feel special.
Feminine.
Even covered in dirt and reeking from the stench of the dungeon, I feel sexy. I peer up at him from under my lashes, my senses sharper and more alive than ever, similar to when facing off against a worthy opponent.
Dante appears flustered all of a sudden, wearing a deer in the headlights look. It’s barely there for a second before it’s replaced by his normally constipated expression. “Are you sure you should be doing that so soon?”
His gruff tone almost sounds like he cares…until he opens his big, fat mouth. “If you drop unconscious again, you’ll only slow us down.”
Asshole.
I easily twist my arm out of his hold, annoyed that I thought for even a fraction of a second that he might be a decent guy. I wave my hand toward the door and smirk at the dickwad. “If you want to be the one to open the door, be my guest.”
A beat of silence follows, then I dismiss him as irrelevant. “Exactly. I suggest you step back and allow me to work.”
When I step up to the bars this time, silence reigns behind me. The skin on the back of my neck prickles, and I’m very conscious of the predators practically breathing down my nape. It goes against my training to give them my back, and I grimace at the vulnerable sensation, waiting with bated breath for them to slip a blade between my ribs.
The spell woven into the bars isn’t as strong as the chains, but it does contain a hefty kick. I can rip it down, but it’s going to hurt like a bitch. I gently nudge my wolf, hating to put her through the abuse every time I touch magic.
