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She’d then handed him a towel which he’d used to wipe his mouth. He’d pressed the same to his nose.
After a moment, he’d held her gaze. “I won’t be staying lon
g.”
Proud words full of air.
But he hadn’t known until his numerous failed escape attempts, just how powerful Margetta was. The Ancient Fae had been determined to keep him in her camp until she was ready to bond him to a female wraith. That day hadn’t come yet, thank the Goddess.
Sandra had then nodded. “Do what you must. But if you can, please stay alive. Surviving honors those who have gone before.”
He’d risen up from his catch-his-breath posture and stared hard at her as she ordered the women to follow her to the baths. His heart had gone with her in that moment, trailing after her, staying with her every hour of every night since his fucked up arrival in Margetta’s camp.
Later, he’d learned that Sandra had shown up in the holding pen on purpose. She’d told him she’d somehow telepathically received an image of him battling the shifters so she’d come to intervene.
When it came to his camp duties as a sparring partner to the Invictus males, he’d refused to fight at first. But after weeks of torture, during which Margetta brought him back from the dead about twenty times, he’d finally surrendered to his fate. The best he could do was to hold back the tricks the Guardsmen employed to battle Invictus pairs. In this way, his actions weren’t completely traitorous. But relying only on his fists, a limited portion of his battle energy, and the occasional axe and dagger had proved one helluva challenge. He got hurt often as well as injured to the point of death at least once a week.
He kept the camp healers busy.
On his escape attempts, he’d gone every possible direction intending to simply levitate out of the camp. More than once, he’d sensed that a pathway existed that could get him through Margetta’s invisible spelled wall. But each time he tried, confusion would eventually take him to the ground, the Invictus guards would seize him, and he’d endure another round of body-and-mind breaking torture.
Sandra had made his time bearable for the past twelve months. She’d come to him repeatedly with her healing power. He didn’t know how many times she’d helped the healers bring him back to life. Ultimately, she’d strengthened his will to live and he’d become more accepting of his fate.
She wore the long white linen gown denoting her position as a personal maid to the bitch from hell. Her beautiful red hair was braided off to the side, though she often wore it on a crown on top of her head. Her large green eyes sparkled with life, despite her enslavement. And when she smiled, he heard the angels sing.
But her skin, so creamy white, made her look fragile and tugged on his warrior instincts to protect her, despite how strong he knew her to be.
He had it bad.
He was as familiar with her history almost as well as his own. Over the past year, especially since he’d gained house privileges and had lived in a decent dungeon cell, he’d had hundreds of conversations with her. They shared one thing in particular in common; neither had any remaining kin in the Nine Realms. All his people, including his parents, were long dead as were Sandra’s. She’d even lost a husband and son. He didn’t know how she’d survived the horrific way her family had been taken from her.
He’d never known a woman like her before. She was fully fae, not the usual vampire female he went for. She had a tender heart combined with what he’d come to know as a will of granite. She’d survived because she believed it was the best way to show her love for those she’d been unable to save. She was an exceptional, worthy woman.
Every morning when he went to bed just before dawn, he begged the Goddess forgiveness for his treachery because of the sparring sessions, then prayed for his death.
Each evening, when he woke up still breathing, he sought out Sandra to make sure she was all right. He consoled himself with the thought that maybe he would find redemption if he could keep her safe.
But how safe could she be when she’d made a decision to help the tower prisoner escape?
Griffin hadn’t actually seen Regan, the Ruby Fae, but all the slaves knew Margetta had succeeded in capturing one of the most powerful fae in all the Nine Realms. She was also planning on bonding her to a powerful male wraith. As an Invictus, Regan would then have more power than she’d ever experienced before. Unfortunately, she’d also have a broken personality with little concern for others and a zealous willingness to obey Margetta in all things.
Only recently, Regan had helped Zane of Swanicott defeat a large brigade of Invictus that Margetta had kept hidden in the eastern part of Mastyr Zane’s Realm. The fortress slave-staff, as well as the army encampment on the border between Camberlaune and Tannisford Realms, had talked of nothing else for a full week, of the numbers lost, of the possibility Margetta could actually lose the war and her bid for the takeover of their world.
Of course, these fears were balanced heavily with the reality that Margetta held the Ruby Fae in her tower.
And this was the woman Sandra was intent on helping escape.
Griffin could admire Sandra’s intention, but loathed it at the same time.
From the moment she’d told him of her plan to give Regan a duplicate key to her tower cell, his battle vibration had raced through his body, trying to figure out how to stop her. Or if he couldn’t, then how to protect her.
He glanced in the direction of the doors leading outside. It wouldn’t be long before one of the Invictus vampires would come looking for him. He’d probably be beaten for not showing up on time. But when Sandra had told him what she intended to do, he’d lagged behind, intent on making sure she came to no harm.
When at last she reached the sole remaining key in the hallway, he watched her shoulders sink. There wasn’t a match after all. Thank the Goddess.
The relief he felt was a wave that washed over him, allowing him to breathe once more. “You’ve done what you could; now you can let this go.”
But she turned toward him, her lips compressed, her green eyes darkening. She spoke in a low voice. “You don’t understand, Griffin. I’ve already made the decision to do everything in my power to help Mistress Regan escape. And if I have to turn the entire fortress upside down in my hunt for the duplicate key, then that’s what I’ll do. Although, I have toyed with the idea of getting the guard drunk so he won’t follow me to the tower. Then I’ll let the Ruby Fae out myself. And now I have to put the key back before he returns.”
