by Kitt Rose
Libby's face grew serious. “I'm not sure how we're going to get out of this. I don't know if we can. Greg is deranged and way too fucking smart.”
Her fingers touched my temple, caressing. The darkness of her brown eyes was warm and liquid. “No matter what happens, I need you to know that I love you. I always have. I never stopped loving you. It broke my heart when I lost you, all those years ago. But it's always been you. Always. And if we do get out of this, I want to live my life with you. Spend the rest of my days proving to you how much I love you.”
She leaned forward and rested her forehead on mine. Her voice was barely a whisper. “But I don't think we're going to get out of this. I'm trying so hard, to be brave. To not fall apart. I mean,” Libby laughed softly, the sound bitter, “this isn't even the worst thing I've ever been through, but… Damn it.” Her voice broke, wavered. “It's not fair.”
Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes to drip onto my face. The salt of her tears hit my lips, and I pushed my chin up, closing the distance between us to kiss her.
I pulled back, searching her eyes for the power that had been there before. “What does the voice tell you?”
She made a noise of frustration. “Absolutely nothing. It's quiet.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Sorry for what? You didn't do anything.”
“Exactly. I should have been able to protect you. I'm a Marked Alpha. I was born to lead and protect my pack. But I couldn't even protect my mate,” I said, failure a bitter pill to swallow.
“Ash…” Libby started, but I didn't let her finish.
It was sweet that she was going to try to protest, convince me it wasn't my fault, but it was my fault.
Using what little strength I had, I grabbed her hand and squeezed. “I need you to promise me something.”
“Okay,” she said, eyes narrowing a little.
“If you have a chance to run, leave me and go.”
She shook her head. “No, Ash—”
“Yes,” I said, cutting her off. “I need you to promise me that you will do whatever is necessary to survive.”
Her tears fell faster, and she jerked her head, “No. I won't leave you. Don't ask that of me. Please, don't.”
“Libby,” I pleaded. “I am not going to stop trying to figure out a way for both of us to walk out of here, alive and well. But let's face facts, I'm weak. I've never felt this drained. If we have the chance to run, I'll only slow you down. I need to know that you'll survive this. I need you to survive.”
Libby made a choking noise, and dropped her face down, shoving it into my neck. Her shoulders shook with sobs.
“Please,” I whispered, heart cracking open in my chest. “Promise me.”
She shook her head again, and tears filled my eyes.
“If you love me, if you ever loved me, you'll do this for me.”
It was a low blow, a dirty request. I wasn't fighting fair, and when she stiffened against me I held my breath, waiting for her to explode. Instead, she relaxed and gave one sharp nod.
“Okay, Ash. If I have the chance to run, I'll run,” she said, so quietly I almost missed it.
I sagged in relief. And then a wave of darkness and fatigue rose inside. My eyes rolled back into my head, and I forced them back open.
Couldn't fall asleep. Couldn't pass out.
It felt like a weight settled over me. A warm and suffocating blanket of darkness. I fought against it, blinking rapidly. Libby sat up and stared down at me. Her face was a blur, splitting into two, then bleeding back together.
So. Tired.
Her hand touched my cheek, and I forced my eyes back open.
Libby kissed my eyelids, soft butterfly wings against my skin. Somehow, my eyes were closed again, but I didn't remember closing them.
“Sleep, Ash. Gather your strength,” she whispered.
And in my half-aware mind, her voice was blended with another. Deeper, richer, full of ancient power. That voice finished in my mind, “You will need all of your strength for the battle that is coming.”
And then the darkness overtook me, and I welcomed the nothingness.
34
Libby
Ash went limp, his eyes fluttering closed. He was exhausted. Beyond it. Dark shadows circled his eyes, and his cheeks looked hollowed out.
But as much as his fatigue worried me, it was his utter hopelessness and defeat that really concerned me. Ash didn't believe we were going to make it out of this alive.
He had made me promise to leave him. To do anything I could to survive. Without him.
I was supposed to sacrifice the man I loved.
Hadn't I lost enough?
I squeezed my eyes shut and bared my teeth in a silent snarl. Like hell I would.
Behind my eyelids, Justice's face coalesced. My twin's familiar brown eyes were full of pain. And then they began to darken and his bone structure shifted. Justice's face changed until the eyes I was looking into were the near-black of Daniel's.
My breath whooshed out of me as if someone had kicked me in the gut.
But the gruesome metamorphosis wasn't over. The face of my dead husband shifted, the features softening to melt into the image of my mother. I searched her face and found sorrow staring back at me. My own sorrow.
These were the faces of those I had loved and lost. The ones I had failed to keep safe. They were my own guilt. My own anger and pain.
And my own realization that I was going to die.
Ash and I were going to die.
Maybe in ten minutes, or in ten days. I didn't know when. But soon, Greg would come back down those stairs to gloat. And one of the times he came, he would grow tired of playing with us. Then, he would either kill me or try to make me his mate.
Both meant my death, because I'd rather die than let him touch me.
I couldn't stomach it. He was responsible for so much pain.
It was his choices, his will that had blotted out the stars in my sky, one by one. By his hand they had suffered. I had suffered. Every single loss was on his head.
And all because he was jealous of Ash. It has poisoned him down to his soul. Because he wanted something that was Ash's by birthright.
Greg Clayton envied my mate.
Malicious envy turned to destructive hate.
I looked down at Asher Stefan. He had crept into the deepest parts of my heart and soul. I loved him. He was beautiful. And he was mine.
If only for a little bit longer.
He was naked, his boxers not having survived his shift, on cold dirty stone, but he was too heavy for me to lift onto the cot. Instead, I shifted to lie down next to him, moving his arm to drape around my shoulders. Then I curled into him.
A part of me, however small, wished that if death were coming for us, that it might come while we slept here. Together.
One last moment of peace.
I laid my head on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat. I let it soothe me. Let myself get lost in the rhythm. Combined with the rise and fall of his chest, it was a lullaby. And I let my eyes drift closed.
I inhaled through my nose, then exhaled through my mouth slowly.
“It was all worth it,” I whispered. “Every bit of pain. If it all led me back to you, it was worth it.”
Sniffling, I wiped the back of my hand across my nose. What I wouldn't give for some tissue.
A noise upstairs caught my attention and I froze, holding my breath.
Was that a footstep?
It sounded like one; as if someone was tiptoeing above me and hit a loose floorboard. I stretched out my hearing, sitting up so that Ash's heartbeat and breathing wouldn't be in my other ear.
There! That was definitely a footstep. Was it Greg?
The soft whine of a door hinge sounded. Close. And then a stair squeaked.
Oh God. He's coming.
Dread rose inside me. With it came the certainty that I was going to die. Why else would he be tiptoeing around? He was going to
kill Ash. Kill me or make me his mate.
I scrambled on my hands and knees, hooking my arms under Ash's armpits and pulled. My shoulders strained, twisted knee screaming in pain as I tried to pull him deeper into the cell, but he was too heavy. I was too weak.
Another step sounded, the stair groaning. I hunched over Ash's still frame. I would fight for him until my last breath.
Brown boots appeared, moving slow. Then another pair. Black this time.
Two people?
I leaned forward and squinted, as if it would allow me to see through walls.
The shoes became legs as they descended, and then…
That hair. I knew that hair, the shaggy beard, and ponytail.
“Johnny,” I said, my voice quiet with caution.
My uncle turned worried eyes on me, Elliot coming behind him. They both rushed to the door. Johnny pulled a key ring from under his belt. The iron ring filled with skeleton keys belonged as a prop in an old movie. Immediately, he started trying keys.
“We need to move fast and quiet,” he whispered, glancing behind him nervously.
“I was so afraid you were all dead. How did Greg get us?” I asked.
Elliot answered. “We think it was a spell. Everyone fell asleep all at once. It didn't last long, maybe five or ten minutes, but it was enough. I woke up when a door slammed and ran outside in time to see Greg's brake lights turn the corner.
“There were only so many places he could take you. We tried the Clayton ranch first. When you weren't there, Elliot got the bright idea to call the witches. Their coven leader was able to track you somehow. She's upstairs.”
Johnny found the right key and the door swung open with a too-loud groan. We all three froze, listening.
Nothing moved. The silence broken only by our breathing.
Elliot exhaled and rushed into the cell. “Is he okay?”
“I don't know. He shifted into a dragon to break the shackles. And then he melted the lock, but there's a spell on it and the effort drained him. He passed out. Elliot, he was so weak,” I whispered.
“He'll recover. Let's get him up. Johnny? A little help, please.”
Johnny and Elliot each took him under an arm, lifting him from the floor and supporting his limp body between them.
I let them go first, hurrying to keep up with them in bare feet. The floor outside the cell was littered with rocks and sharp things that hurt. I bit my cheek to keep from crying out in pain as something pierced my foot. The coppery scent of my blood was strong, rising above the dampness and decay.
Elliot faltered and turned to look at me, concern and strain in those beautiful blue eyes. I shook my head, pressing onward.
Johnny and Elliot exchanged a look over Ash's bowed head but kept going.
We took the stairs slowly, mostly because they were carrying a large man. Everything inside me wanted to rush, wanted to get the hell away from here, as fast and as far as possible.
At the top of the stairs, Johnny and Elliot turned right, and I followed, stumbling in surprise.
Selene, the coven leader, stood there, arms crossed. I'd expected to see her, but not like this.
Her visible flesh was painted with what looked like blood. Every single inch covered with the strange markings. Around her slim hips she'd slung a canvas fanny pack.
If not for the fierce expression on her face, and the absolute focus in her eyes, I would have laughed at the ugly bag. But this Selene looked dangerous.
She didn't look anything like a college co-ed now.
“Do you know where the Protean is?” she said in a low voice.
“No, I haven't heard a car or anything.”
“Well, let's make this a little easier. Mr. Dahl, Mr. Stefan, if you would hold on a moment, I can rouse your Alpha.”
“Is that safe?” I couldn't help but ask. “I mean, he was so drained he passed out.”
She frowned. “Drained how?”
I explained and her frown deepened.
“I could perhaps give him just a bit of your energies—from the two Proteans. It would leave both of you fatigued. But three mobile Proteans would be preferable to one unconscious, no?”
Johnny nodded. “Yes. I will give my Alpha energy.”
“Of course,” Elliot agreed.
Selene raised a hand and gestured for us to follow her. She moved up the hallway and in through the first door she found. Inside was a small bedroom, obviously used. The bed was slept in, and a basket of clean clothing rested at the foot of it. I rushed over and fished out a pair of sweatpants, tugging them on. I had to roll them, but they would cover me.
While Selene started chanting, pulling things from her fanny pack, I found a shirt and a second pair of elastic waist pants for Ash. In the open closet, I stole two pairs of shoes—ridiculously large flip flops for me and a pair of track shoes for Ash.
The feel of magic filled the air, raising the hairs on my arms. I was coming to recognize the sensation. Like the heaviness in the air before a storm, it was physical, visceral—and I didn't like it at all.
There was a quiet snap, the impression of rushing wind though nothing moved, and I spun in time to see Ash's head loll forward then jerk upright. His eyes were wild, and I rushed to him.
Still supported by Elliot and Johnny, he struggled until my hands met his skin.
His nostrils flared. “Li-ib-by,” he exhaled brokenly, his voice shivering strangely.
“Shh, I'm here. Johnny and Elliot are here. Selene is here. We're going to get out of this place. I need to get you dressed quickly. Can you stand on your own?”
Moving sluggishly, he pulled free from the arms supporting him, wobbling. Elliot placed a steadying hand on his arm and Ash turned too swiftly.
“Easy, brother,” Elliot murmured, urging Ash to sit on the edge of the bed. “If he feels like I do, then his legs are rubber.”
“Shit,” Ash slurred. “What's wrong with me?”
Selene made a noise in her throat. “We don't have time for this. We need to leave.” She snatched the shirt from my hands and thrust it at Ash. “Dress. Now.”
While Ash slowly put on the shirt, I dropped to my knees in front of him and put his legs in the pants. When he had the shirt on, he stood, and I tugged the pants up, trying to ignore the penis that was in my face.
My cheeks blazed.
Ash looked down at me, seemed to realize exactly where I was, and one side of his mouth hitched up. I bit my lip to keep from laughing and stood.
The shoes were too small for him.
Selene made an impatient noise. “We need to leave.”
Johnny gathered us close. “Out the backdoor, circle around the house. Truck is parked behind a stand of trees just inside the tree line. Stay low, stay quiet, and be fast,” he ordered in a hushed voice.
Ash's eyes met his, and for a moment, my uncle came close to blushing. His eyes shifted up and away. But then Ash nodded, satisfaction in his expression.
I wondered what the exchange was about, but I had no time to ask. Ash grabbed my hand, and we were heading out of the bedroom. I could only hope we hadn't wasted too much time, and that wherever the hell Greg was, he'd stay there until we made our escape.
35
Libby
With every step, I expected death. My muscles knotted with the tension. Painfully tight with the expectation that Greg would pop out of some hiding place, and it would all be over.
My stomach churned as we hurried down the hall. Selene was in front. Elliot. Then Ash next. I was right behind him with Johnny tight on my heels. We passed an open door and I peered in as we rushed by. An office. It was empty.
We kept going, moving silently into a kitchen that was sparse but functional.
We made it out of the back door, keeping low to the ground. Selene led us around the corner of the house. Johnny tapped my shoulder and motioned for me to let him pass.
He slipped by Ash and I, moving in close to Elliot and whispering something in his ear. Selene continued thro
ugh the yard. It was barren, filled with mostly dead grass and a garden choked by weeds. An abandoned camper sat on rotting tires next to the house, and we snuck between the two.
Selene paused at the end. Everyone crammed into the shadow-darkened space.
I half-crawled, half-walked closer to Ash. Needing to touch him, I placed my palm on his back, between his shoulder blades as we waited. His normal heat wasn't there. In fact, he felt cold and clammy. His borrowed shirt had soaked through with sweat.
I fisted the material and tugged to get his attention.
Ash turned slowly, looking over his shoulder at me with concern.
Leaning forward, I whispered, “Are you okay?”
His face cleared and he nodded. “Better every moment. And once we're free…”
He didn't have to finish that sentence. I wouldn't feel good again until we were far from Greg.
I searched Ash's face for some sign that he was sick or too weak to go on. That he was in danger. More than the danger we were in just being here.
Selene started to move, and the moment between Ash and I was broken. We followed, slipping from our hiding spot and bee-lining across the front yard toward the trees lining the property.
I glanced at the house as we started to pass. It was an unassuming brown. Old, but maintained. Even if the yard suggested it was abandoned, the structure itself told me that someone had been coming here and maintaining the property.
How long had Greg been planning this?
And then the front door banged open. It slammed against the house, the noise like a gunshot in the quiet.
Suddenly, I was flying backward.
Back the way we had come.
My ass impacted the dirt and dead grass in a bruising collision. I fell back. My skull bounced off the ground. Spots and stars danced across the world, covering my vision, and my head rang with the contact.
Stunned, I lay on my back in the dirt. I shook my head, wondering what the hell had just happened.
Ash must have thrown or pushed me. He had given me a chance to escape.
I forced myself up. Scrambled backward in a crabwalk, moving into the passage as Greg came charging out of the house. He hit the grass just as the shadows swallowed me.