But why? If he wanted to sacrifice her, all he had to do was hand her over, and he would earn back his birthright.
She rubbed her arm again, then froze, her whole body flushing warm, then cold at the familiar sensation.
“You son of a bitch!” Morgan launched herself at him, and the bastard didn’t even have the sense to get out of the way of her attack, as if he felt he deserved it.
But instead of hitting him, she grabbed his shirt and wrenched him forward, nearly pulling him off his feet. She ignored his grunt of pain as he hit the iron bars, ignored the stench of burned flesh, and reached for the collar of his shirt. She yanked it down, uncaring that the fabric tore apart in her hand.
A Celtic knot was boldly displayed across his chest in a deep forest green that reminded her of his eyes. The edges were shot through with a liquid gold that almost seemed to be moving.
Mating marks.
She twisted her arm up to discover she bore a similar mark the size of a fifty-cent piece, the lines daintier, but the colors no less bold and vivid.
He’d been blocking the connection, hiding it from her for lord knew how long. She thought he was being shy or bashful when he wouldn’t remove his shirt for practice, when in reality he’d been concealing the truth from her.
“Rat bastard!”
She didn’t realize that she spoke out loud, until he flinched, dropping his gaze.
“How…” She trailed off, her eyes dropping to the manacles around his wrists. “The chains are binding your magic. You can no longer hide the marks.”
His shoulders slumped in defeat. “I have only a minor ability with magic—illusion and a touch of healing.”
“But the marks are permanent.” Morgan’s stomach began to churn with dread. “What did you do?”
“They cannot be removed once they form.” His head dropped to his chest, his hair blocking his face. “But if you’re desperate enough, you can cut them out. If they can’t form, the connection will never be completed.”
Feeling like he’d kicked her in the chest, she struggled to get enough air. Rather than be bound to her, he would rather butcher himself, using illusion and his healing abilities to disguise what he was doing. Bile rose in her throat at the extreme measures he had taken to avoid being her mate.
The goddess knew she didn’t need more complications, but hurt speared through her veins like acid with the knowledge that he would rather be left to rot and die in prison than be mated to her.
“If the elves come back and discover the connection, you’ll be in even more danger. You can’t bring attention to yourself.” He limped closer to the cell bars, and her heart broke at the desperation in his expression. “I can’t protect you anymore.”
Morgan laughed bitterly at the shitty situation, the crushing pressure in her chest leaving her struggling against the urge to run and escape the pain. Her necklace heated until the metal burned against her skin, and she blindly reached up to find a cracked heart, the edges tarnished and rusted, barely held together by stitches.
Battered but still in one piece…like her.
She lifted her chin, locking down her emotions, flinching away from Ryder when he reached to touch her.
If anyone showed her even an ounce of compassion, she was afraid she would shatter.
“Too late.” Morgan smirked, refusing to let him see how badly his rejection had carved out her insides and left her bleeding.
Atlas lurched toward the cell bars, his chains clanking as he gripped the bars as if he would rip them apart to get to her. “What did you do?”
His brows lowered, the muscles of his arms flexing as he straightened to his full height. Smoke rose from where he touched the metal, and she idly wondered how much iron they put into the metal while she fought against the numbness spreading through her.
The guys were depending on her.
She couldn’t be all female and break down because a guy rejected her.
But she hadn’t realized how much she considered him to be one of her guys until he made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her.
She would not force him to be her mate.
While Morgan wanted to be anywhere else, they needed Atlas. He was the only one of them who knew his way around this realm, and she would be dammed if she allowed anything as stupid as hurt feelings to put the others in danger.
“Me?” She scowled at him, having momentarily forgotten that he could be such an ass. “I didn’t do anything…not technically.” She bit her lip. “But I might have stumbled into a little problem.”
Chapter Eleven
“Morgan.” Kincade edged between her and the cell, not letting her escape the censure in his look. “What’s going on?”
From the muscle jumping in his jaw, he was clearly pissed at her for keeping secrets, and she shrugged away his concern. “Look, we need to get him out of that cell and outside the walls before the sun rises. The elves don’t patrol at night, so we should be able to slip away without too much trouble.”
“No. Absolutely not. You’re being emotional and not thinking straight.” Atlas shook his head, the imperial jackass was back to his old self despite looking like he’d been through hell and it spit him back out. He faced the guys, as if knowing he wouldn’t be able to reason with her.
“The realm is too dangerous for random exploration. Not only are there predators, you’re forgetting about the fog.”
Morgan rolled her eyes. “After what I witnessed down the hall, I would disagree. If we stay, every one of us will eventually end up on those tables, and I will not allow that to happen.”
Kincade grabbed her arm, swinging her around until she was pinned to the crumbling wall. The heat of him caused her to shiver, and her stupid heart had the gall to leap in her chest. His lips were so close, her mind flashed back to the last time they kissed.
It’d been too long.
Kincade’s green eyes darkened, and he dipped his head, his lips brushing hers so lightly, her breath caught in her throat. “Talk to me, princess.”
She almost surrendered just so she could taste his lips again, but stubbornly shook her head. “Too dangerous. We need to leave before sunrise or it will be too late.”
Loki leaned forward from her shoulders, his snout crinkling as he sniffed at Kincade. To her surprise, the title guy fluttered from her shoulder and took up residence on his.
Kincade froze, his eyes wide, and Morgan couldn’t resist taking advantage of the situation. She slipped her hands free from his, went up on her tiptoes, trailing her hands up his shoulders and nipped at his chin, gratified when he glanced at her, his pupils dilated.
Excitement flooded her veins at having the upper hand, and she regretfully pulled away, each inch separating them almost painful.
“We have a decision to make.” She rubbed her hands together, wishing for the comfort of her blades, remembering a time when she only had herself to worry about. “No matter which option we choose, we’re going to be in danger, but instinct is telling me to leave as soon as possible.”
She peered at Atlas over her shoulder, part of her glad to see him behind bars…until she saw the severity of his injuries again, and then her heart just ached. Maybe he was only protecting her, but the shattering pain of his rejection was too fresh and too hard to ignore. “You think I’m the key to fixing this world. That’s not going to happen if you keep me isolated or if the elves take me prisoner.”
Kincade’s brows furrowed. He was clearly not happy with the idea, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.
“I will do my best to abide by whatever you decide.” She glanced at each of the guys. “You know my vote.”
The guys shared a single look, then Ryder turned to her. “We leave before sunrise.”
Morgan blinked at them, expecting an argument, and she was floored to know they trusted her enough to follow her into danger. “Right. Okay.”
Draven gave her a crooked smile, grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around. “The first step to an e
scape is to break out of prison.”
“Smart-ass.” She snorted, then elbowed him sharply in the stomach, taking satisfaction when he grunted, but his comment had done what he intended.
No longer flustered, she focused on the cell, ignoring Atlas while he watched her every move. He hadn’t said one word since they promised to follow her lead and not his.
She flexed her fingers, then reached for the metal, pausing when the spell on the cell snapped against her fingers.
“Careful.”
“Don’t.” Morgan scowled, refusing to look at Atlas, not wanting to be swayed from her anger by seeing how he was barely clinging to consciousness. She would not feel pity for him. “You can stop pretending you care.”
Blowing out a breath, she grabbed the padlock on the door. Magic struck hard and fast, sinking its fangs in her arms, the spell spreading like venom through her, until she’d swear her skin was ready to peel away from her flesh. The compulsion to back away was so strong, her fingers clutched the lock convulsively.
Just when the magic reached her shoulder, her own finally took over. Energy surged out of her bones, grabbing every scrap of the spell and obliterating it. When the pain ended, she opened her eyes, unaware that she’d closed them. Small, spent particles of magic rolled off her arms, the red dust landing all around her.
She tugged on the padlock, the metal stretching, thinning until it finally snapped.
Morgan turned away, only to find Ascher in front of her. He grabbed her wrist, lifting her hand between them.
“Drop it.”
It took her brain two tries before her fingers finally obeyed and the metal clanked to the floor. He ran his palm down her arm, then took her hand between his, gently rubbing the knotted muscles until she couldn’t hold back a groan.
A smile quirked his mouth, and she couldn’t stop herself from leaning into him, half expecting him to stiffen and jerk away. Instead, he wrapped her in his arms and tucked her close to his chest. “Give him time to explain.”
She stiffened, the last thing she expected was for him to take Atlas’ side.
First Kincade, now Atlas.
When she took a step back, he refused to release her. “Like it or not, we’re all bound together. Nothing is going to change that.”
“I don’t want to hear more.”
“Tough.” He grabbed her chin, and she was startled to find her devoted Ascher standing up to her. “We’re family. He’s family. Forget for a moment that you don’t approve of his actions. When have you ever known him to do anything without a damned good reason?”
Morgan pursed her lips and glanced away. When he didn’t release her, she grudgingly admitted he was right. “Never.”
He kissed her forehead, and tension eased out of her.
Dammit.
She wanted to hold onto her anger and hurt, wallow in it for a while, but she couldn’t help but ask one question…why? While Atlas was blunt, he was never needlessly cruel. He was always in control of his emotions, so…
Then it clicked…tied to her, he would have complete control over his emotions again.
Tied to her, he would lose his connection to his elven heritage. It was the only thing he held dear. No wonder he hated her.
When Kincade stepped forward to help Atlas, Loki jumped from his shoulder, landing lightly on hers, then ducking under her hair and wrapping himself around her neck. The light weight was a welcome comfort.
“Where—” Atlas grunted when Kincade none too gently grabbed his arm and slung it over his shoulder.
“Questions later.” Kincade didn’t give him a choice, instead hauling him toward the next door.
Atlas grunted, doing his best to move his feet, unable to hide the grimace of pain behind his usual stoic mask.
The moment they emerged from the dungeons, Stanley trotted down the passageway toward them. “They’re coming.”
Guards.
Morgan didn’t hesitate, quickly heading in the opposite direction, passing three doors before she grabbed the knob of the fourth. Her magic flowed out of her and melted the lock. She barely had the door open when Stanley slipped through the crack. She flung open the door, waving the guys into the room, Ryder bringing up the rear. He scowled at her, then snagged an arm around her waist, yanking her close to his chest as he backed into the room, clearly not willing to leave her behind.
She bit her lip to stifle a yelp when her feet left the ground, and grabbed his shoulders, unable to help feeling delicate as he toted her easily with one arm. He gently shut the door, and everyone stood at attention as they waited.
When she didn’t hear any alarms or pounding footsteps, she gave a sigh of relief and tapped Ryder’s arm. “They’re gone. You can put me down.”
He dipped his chin, brushing his cheek against the top of her head, reluctantly loosening his hold until she slid down his body. She leaned her forehead against his shoulder, the sting of Atlas’s rejection lessening slightly when he hugged her closer.
“We won’t have much time before they discover that he’s gone, and we’re missing.” She reluctantly pulled away and saw they were in a junk room of some sort. Random furniture and boxes crowded the small space. “They won’t let us go easily.
“Draven—head out and find a clear route for us.” He was the sneakiest of them. If one could leave without being detected, it would be Draven. “Kincade—find us some damned weapons. I don’t want to be outside without having equipment to defend ourselves.” He nodded and practically dropped Atlas to the floor. “Ryder—get word to the others, see if they can provide us with a little distraction. And tell them about what’s happening down here. Make sure MacGregor keeps a close watch on the kids. I don’t want any of them going missing.”
When the rest disappeared, Morgan turned to face Ascher. He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, as if daring her to order him about.
“I’m not leaving you without protection.”
She suppressed a smile. If any one of them knew she could take care of herself, it was him. They fought together often enough when they hunted the paranormal creatures who failed to follow human laws—like those who enjoyed torturing humans and even eating them rather than living peacefully next to them.
“Do they know what you are?” Something about the way the elves tried to capture the other hellhound didn’t sit right with her. They were up to no good, and she feared it had to do with that murder room.
“No.” The smile dropped off Ascher’s face, suspicions darkening his blue eyes. “Why?”
Relief trickled through her. “Keep it that way. I fear both of us are on the elves’ most-wanted list.”
Chapter Twelve
Morgan sent Ascher into the hall to keep watch and warn if anyone approached. Even in human form, he had a way of blending into the shadows. If he didn’t want to be seen, no one would see him, even if he was standing only a foot away.
As she closed the door behind him, she tightened her grip on the knob, instantly wishing to call him back. She didn’t want to be alone with Atlas, her anger a vicious, ugly thing that threatened to consume her rational thoughts.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t avoid Atlas forever. He needed medical care. Tucking away the wounded edges of her emotions, she began searching the boxes around them, gathering what old clothes she could find, ripping them into strips. After ten minutes, she realized that she had more than enough bandages to wrap him up like a mummy.
No more delaying the inevitable.
Too bad she wasn’t able to figure out a way to separate herself from her emotions the way he did. As she approached his brooding presence, he didn’t say a word. She grabbed the shackles around his wrists, ignoring the way the magic tried to worm its way under her skin. Instead of her having to break the spell, the metal simply flaked apart at her command. Without the metal to hold the magic, the spell dissipated.
“You’re getting pretty good at controlling metal.” Morgan nearly jumped at the raw, rough sound of Atlas’s voice
, so different from the smooth tone he normally used. Only one thing caused that kind of damage—screams. He had so much restraint, she couldn’t imagine what torture they used to break him. “You’ve been practicing.”
“Hmmm.” She didn’t trust herself to say more.
While there was no way in hell she was going to let him off the hook so easily, her resolve wavered at the evidence of what he had endured.
The condition of his wrists alone made bile rise in her throat.
No skin remained on the two-inch swath where the metal had rested. The flesh beneath oozed blood and pus, white tendons shining through the charred muscles, resembling scorched barbecue.
Damned iron!
Her meager supplies weren’t going to do shit to help him, but at least she could make him comfortable. “Take off your shirt.”
He didn’t move, and she looked up to find him watching her.
Only when their eyes met did he move to obey, and she hated the way her stomach fluttered in response to his provocative move. Then she saw the mess they made of his body. Yellow and putrid green bruises marred every bit of his skin, some areas so dark she knew they inflicted internal damage, not to mention more than a few broken ribs.
She dabbed at the worst of the wounds as best she could with their meager supplies, the silence between them becoming heavier and more awkward as time passed. No matter how hard she tried to stop herself, her eyes were drawn repeatedly to the bold markings across his upper chest. Her fingers tingling with the urge to touch the mark. With each second, the need was turning into more of a craving, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could resist. Needing a distraction, she asked the question that had started this whole mess in the first place. “Tell me why you were banished.”
Atlas winced when she reached a particularly nasty wound at his side, but Morgan doubted he even felt it, her questions striking him much harder.
The injury looked as if he’d been beaten with a rusty pipe, the jagged metal ripping and tearing into his flesh with every strike, until his skin resembled tenderized meat. He sat still through her ministrations, stoic and silent.
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