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Racingthe halfblock back to the building, Jace ran toward the dance studio with renewed intent. He didn’t know how, but he knew something was wrong. From the moment, he’d whispered he loved her, it’d been like something between him and Frankie had connected, taken full form then. Like he could sense her presence, her feelings, her fears. He sensed that fear now and more acute than ever. She needed him. Now.
When he reached the building, Jace tore inside, bounding up the stairs. He ran to the apartment stairwell and stopped in his tracks.
Crouching to the floor, he rubbed his finger across a small red speckle. He lifted his hand to his nose and sniffed. The smell of iron filled his nostrils, mixed with the scent of his mate that remained there.
Blood.
Jace’s stomach flipped. “Shit.” He ran up the apartment at full speed but quickly skidded to a halt.
Blood. Frankie’s blood.
There was a large pool on the floor, with small droplets leading out of the apartment, down the stairs. Robert had her. He knew it without question. All his fault. If he hadn’t left her…
A loud roar ripped from Jace’s throat as anger flooded every inch of his body. He barely took the time to scan the writing that dripped in fresh blood across the walls, his mate’s fresh blood, before he stormed out of the apartment. He was going to tear that fucker to pieces.
Come to the abandoned warehouse in Honeoye. Better hurry, my dear Jace, before I kill them both.
22
Frankie’s eyes slowlyflickered open. Her head pounded, pain thumping in her temple like a fast-paced salsa rhythm. Her whole body ached, and her collarbone throbbed with pain every time she breathed. Damn him for using a silver knife. Pushing herself off the ground, she blinked several times until her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. She scanned her surroundings and gritted her teeth.
A cage. He’d placed her in a freaking cage.
She grabbed one of the bars and shook it with all the strength she could muster. The iron creaked as it threatened to give beneath her strength, but it would take hours to bend it enough so she could escape. Something told her she didn’t have that kind of time.
“We’re in a warehouse. Don’t bother yelling or trying to get out. It’s impossible.”
Frankie turned around. Allyson lay sprawled across the bottom of the cage, her arms and limbs spread wide as if she were the female equivalent of da Vinci’s famous Vitruvian Man. She didn’t move.
“Allyson, are you okay?” Frankie crawled toward her. When she reached Allyson’s side, she cursed.
Iron. The cage was made of iron—even the floor.
“Holy shit, Allyson. I’m going to move you, okay? I’m going to move you so your skin isn’t touching the metal.” Frankie placed a hand on Allyson’s arm.
The small faerie cringed. “Be careful, Frankie. My…my skin is stuck to the iron. If you move me, it will peel off.”
“Shit.” Frankie hit one of the metal bars of the cage in frustration. “I’m going to have to move you somehow. If you stay like this, the iron’s just going to keep eating away at your skin.”
Frankie eyed the length of Allyson’s body. She didn’t know where to begin.
Legs. She would start with her legs. The only skin showing there was a slight flash of her ankle just above her shoe, the only part of her leg not protected by her jeans.
Shifting toward Allyson’s feet, she stared down at her injured friend. “I’m going to move your legs so that your shoes are touching the iron, instead of your skin. Okay?”
Allyson whimpered, unable even to nod.
Frankie cupped her hands underneath Allyson’s kneecaps. Should she pull her legs off the floor quickly, like a Band-Aid, to lessen the pain, or move slowly in hopes of salvaging some of the skin? Frankie closed her eyes and quickly lifted Allyson’s legs.
A blood-curdling scream pierced the air. Frankie’s eyes snapped open. Her stomach flipped. She held back vomit at the sight of chunks of Allyson’s skin stuck to the iron. The smell of burning flesh permeated the air. Frankie gagged.
As gently as possible, she propped Allyson’s legs up with her knees bent and placed her shoes in contact with the iron. Her torso remained flat against the bottom of the cage.
Damn. The difficult part was next. Her arms and her head.
Frankie carefully slipped her hands underneath Allyson’s shoulders. Her blouse had managed to protect most of the skin there.
I’m doing this to help her, not to hurt her.She repeated the mantra in her head for reassurance.
