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Then, it had been a case of wanting to survive.
Now, it was through the eyes of that female that he took the measure of those with whom he was familiar. There were at least fifteen hundred prisoners down here, which sounded like a lot until you spent a hundred years with the same set of faces—and it wasn’t like there were new people coming in anymore. In fact, he couldn’t think of a fresh arrival in the last ten years.
Then again, what had the female said? The raids. The Council gone. Most of the Founding Families dead.
Seventy-five years ago, if that disruption in authority had occurred? Fifty years ago? Perhaps the population down here would have revolted and escaped. But not now. In spite of what he’d told his guest, the glymera was no longer in charge of the prison they had created—and they hadn’t been for at least two decades.
The Command had been gathering the reins of control for quite some time—
Up ahead, a figure among the others stood out. Taller than most, with what the Jackal’s grandfather would have called “a regal carriage,” the male somehow turned his common clothes into tailor-made masterpieces just by the controlled swing of his proper gait.
Speak of the aristocrat.
The Jackal jumped ahead, falling into the wake of his target. In a low voice, he said, “I need a favor.”
It was a testament to the kind of vampire he was dealing with that nothing changed about the male. Not the stride, not the straight-ahead of the focus, not the swing in those arms.
But there was a quiet reply, low and soft. “What do you need, my friend.”
“Come to my cell.”
“When.”
“Now.”
There was the briefest of nods, and then, at the next branching-off, the male deviated from the flow of bodies headed to the Hive, and penetrated a tunnel with narrower walls and no foot traffic. The Jackal stuck with the prisoner, and they went quite some distance before stopping.
Nothing was said as they waited.
When there was no trail and no guards, the Jackal walked forward a couple of yards and paused with his back to the stone wall. The other male played lookout as the hidden switch was hit and a soft clicking sound was released as the panel slid back.
A moment later, the pair of them were in the other end of the hidden passageway that the Jackal had brought the female into in the first place.
“Tell me,” Kane said as candles flared, and they started walking.
Kane had been the biggest surprise when the Jackal was first learning the ropes of the prison. Another aristocrat who was both educated and smart—not always the same thing—the male had, no doubt as a throwback social courtesy, extended a hand in mentorship. The two of them had much in common, and not only when it came to their backgrounds and fall from status.
“I’m going to let her explain it,” the Jackal murmured.
“Her?”
The Jackal let that stand and went along faster, covering the distance to the nearest of the three exits with alacrity. Emerging from the passage was always a risk, and he was forced to stop and listen. When there was nothing on the other side, he released the hold and the panel slid back without a sound.
Extraction was faster than a blink, and then he and Kane were almost to his cell—
The Jackal jerked to a halt. Even though that was the wrong instinct. But he couldn’t understand what he was looking at.
The civilian female, who he had witnessed hiding herself well and properly under his bed, appeared to be out and about, and she had managed to cross paths with the ultimate bad penny in the prison. She was standing within swiping distance of that wolven—and Lucan was looking like he’d found Little Red Riding Hood alone in the forest. The huge hybrid was staring down at her with hunger in his face and in his powerful body, the sexual intent rolling off of him in waves.
The Jackal would have shouted, except he didn’t want to draw any notice from anybody. Instead, he lunged forward, prepared to tackle the other male—
The female moved so fast, no one saw it coming.
Not even the wolf.
In a single, decisive surge, she outed a sharp knife, planted a palm on the hybrid’s sternum, and jabbed the blade’s tip right up into his crotch.
In a calm voice, she said, “I’ll castrate you right here, right now. Or you can back up off me. What’s it going to be, big guy? Doesn’t matter to me which way we go, but I have a feeling you’re going to want to keep what’s down here or your swagger’s out the window.”
To emphasize her point, she put some muscle into the weapon.
The wolven let out a squeak that was wholly at odds with his size and his—what had the female called it? Swagger?
