“Oh, thank God! Almarr, help me!” Relief released some of the tears she’d fought so valiantly to hold back. She was saved.
“Hurry! This way.” Almarr motioned deeper into the catacombs. Haidar scooped her up, tossed her over his shoulder, and followed his father.
There was no way Miranda was able to process what was happening. This had to be a misunderstanding. Surly Almarr was getting her out of the catacombs, not taking her deeper into them. Was there a way out? Like a secret tunnel similar to the ones connecting the cells?
“They won’t think to look for her here,” Almarr said quietly to his son. “Keep her quiet and contained. I’ll come for you when I’ve worked out something with her father.”
“Almarr? Why? Why would you do this?”
He didn’t hesitate to meet her gaze with his own, boldly staring into her eyes. “I told you, Mistress. I’m only concerned with me and mine. You’re a means to an end.”
“But I came here to help your son.”
“And for that I’m grateful. But you have to understand, I won’t see my son harmed again. If that means inconveniencing you for a while, so be it.”
“Almarr, your son intends to hurt me,” she said, trying to keep panic at bay. This could not be happening! “Is this how you’d repay me?”
To her complete and utter horror, Almarr merely shrugged. “He won’t do anything to you that wasn’t done to him. Besides, I told you to go home. Perhaps you should have listened.”
“But…but I didn’t do anything to anybody!”
“Keep her quiet!” Almarr hissed. “They aren’t looking for her yet, but don’t give them any reason to come down here before I’m ready! This will work, but only if no one finds her before I have them looking. Do whatever you have to do, but make sure she’s unconscious. We have to be away before she wakes.”
“Not a problem.” Haidar sneered. “We’ll see if Daddy even wants you back after I’m done with you. Maybe me and a few of my buddies, since I’m not the only one who’s been hurt by your kind.”
“Why is it always ‘my kind’ and ‘your kind?’ We’re all sharing the same world. We’re all intelligent beings. There’s no reason we can’t—” Haidar cut her off with a big hand over her mouth. He pinned her against the rock wall, pressing his body tightly against hers. When Miranda opened her mouth to scream, he stuffed a dirty rag inside, securing it with another strip of cloth.
Whirling her around, Haidar looped one arm around her waist while he snagged a rope with the other. “Please do struggle, pet. It’ll be so much more fun.”
Miranda gagged, panic taking over. She did struggle. With all her might. Kicking back, she tried to connect with his knee, but he merely lifted her off her feet as he deftly maneuvered the rope with his other hand. Somehow, he managed to loop one end around her wrist, wrapping the rope around her waist before grabbing her other hand to slip into another loop. With a decisive yank, he tightened the rope, making her hands and arms immobile with a few seemingly effortless ties. She tried her best to kick at him, even snapping her head back, connecting once with his face. Above them in the arena, the crowd roared, approving of something. Even through her own predicament, Miranda wondered fleetingly if Brandwulfr had just died. Which was crazy, because she was sure she was either about to die herself, or worse.
Probably worse.
With a roar of pain, Haidar swung her around to face him and backhanded her hard across the face. Stars dotted her vision as she crumpled to the ground only to be hauled back to her feet. Again, he backhanded her, then jabbed her in the ribs. When she landed on the ground again he kicked her. Searing pain exploded inside her. Miranda was sure he’d broken a couple of her ribs. With her arms immobile, she couldn’t even protect her head. All she could do was curl up into a ball to try to protect her torso. A couple of times, she tried to kick out, but he caught her leg with a strong kick of his own. She couldn’t even scream.
Then, as suddenly as it began, the beating stopped. Nausea assailed Miranda as she fought for breath. Never in her life had she hurt like this. Blood trickled from her nose down her lip to soak into the cloth stuffed into her mouth. One eye was beginning to swell shut, and it was so hard to breathe.
There were the sounds of a scuffle, but no shouts or other noises. Just flesh meeting flesh accompanied by the sound of bone crunching. Then she was dragged to her feet by strong hands around her shoulders. Weakly, she tried to fight but was unable to do more than kick out a couple of times.
“Stupid little fool!” Never would she have thought she’d be so happy to hear Brandwulfr’s berating. “I told you to fucking leave! Do you never listen?”
As if in testament to his wrath, the ground shook violently, rumbling out a warning. Brandwulfr pulled her close for several moments as the quake continued. Several slaves throughout the catacombs yelled in protest, the tension suddenly thick with a sense of coming danger. Miranda would bet all she had that the quake wasn’t the main threat. She knew it took much to rile these people, yet this tremor certainly did.
Once the shaking stopped, Brandwulfr took out the gag with one hand as he sliced the rope off her with his sword. Almost immediately, her knees gave way. Without another word, Brandwulfr scooped her up in his arms, holding her to his chest. It was hard to tell, but she thought she heard him groan as he rested his chin on her head for a long moment. Then he buried his face in her hair and inhaled deeply. “What’s happening? Why did the earth shake?”
Completely ignoring her question, he tried to soothe her. “All right, little human. Let’s get you someplace where I can look at you.” His words belied the gruff, yet gentle tone. But all she really cared about was that he was alive. And he’d come for her. Like everyone else, it seemed, he had his own agenda, but Miranda knew in her heart that, until that agenda was fulfilled, he would keep her safe. The least she could do after he’d proven she had his protection was to help him in any way possible. She’d just have to get his word that he’d secure her safety once she’d done what he needed her to. With that last thought, she succumbed to darkness.
Chapter Five
Having defied Rudolph by not killing the gladiator pitted against him—and by living through the battle at all—Brandwulfr knew it was only a matter of time before the master sent someone to kill him. Even knowing that, he’d still run headlong into the catacombs as hard and fast as he could when he’d smelled the bitter-sharp scent of Miranda’s fear. Her scream had pierced the tunnels as if echoing from a well, and rage had filled Brandwulfr such as he’d never known. She was his way out of this hellhole, and she was in trouble.
He found her bound, gagged, and curled into a ball on the ground with that cur, Haidar, kicking the life out of her. Literally. With all the speed he could muster, he sprinted down the tunnel. Grabbing a handful of the pup’s hair, he yanked Haidar off Miranda. There were no battle yells. No savage snarls or pleas for mercy. For his treatment of Miranda, Brandwulfr pummeled Haidar’s body with his bare hands. Once blood flowed freely, once Brandwulfr’s hands were slick with it from the beating, he picked up his sword and swung, severing Haidar’s head from his shoulders. Almarr scent still lingered, but the old man was nowhere in sight. No matter. He’d deal with Almarr later.
Now, he cradled Miranda’s limp form in his arms, needing to get her someplace safe to assess the extent of her injuries. This was a nightmare. A fucking nightmare!
“Brandwulfr.” Zev, the man he’d fought only minutes before, limped toward him. “Is she all right?” The man’s gaze fell on Miranda, and Brandwulfr bared his teeth, growling. “Fine. Leave us!”
A woman pushed past Zev—Brandwulfr thought her name was Aya—and approached him and Miranda slowly, hands away from her sides as if to make sure he knew she meant them no harm.
“Let me see her,” Aya said gently. Brandwulfr didn’t know whether to trust the couple or not but didn’t see much of an alternative. Both were skilled warriors, and he couldn’t defend himself and Miranda too.
Aya brushed a lock of bloody hair off Miranda’s forehead, lightly running her fingertips over the bumps and bruises. Miranda’s lip was split and one eye nearly swollen shut. Blood trickled down her temple from a cut on the side of her head. The beautiful little human who haunted his days was now broken in his arms.
“Follow me,” Aya said. “Get her to my chambers and you can assess her better. I’ve got a small water supply you can use to wash her wounds. You’ll have privacy. No one will bother you.”
Brandwulfr didn’t move. “I nearly killed your man in the arena tonight. Yet you’re offering to help me and a human? Forgive me if I seem ungrateful, but that’s pretty far fetched.”
“Rudolph intended for you to die. He tried to use my man to kill you, not caring that he could die just as easily as you. Rudolph doesn’t care about us other than the money he makes.” She pointed to Miranda. “That one may be human, but she’s not evil like her father. Now please, come with me. With our fights over, they’ll be expecting us back in our cells. We only have a few minutes before they search for all of us.”
Brandwulfr tensed but started moving. “You know who she is?”
Aya shrugged. “I saw her with Rudolph the other day in the arena. She argued with him then over the treatment of his slaves. I couldn’t hear everything, but I heard enough. Guessed the rest. She might not be completely blameless—unless you count willful ignorance a defense—but she’s trying to make things as right as she can. No one’s perfect, and she’s got a good heart. I have no wish to see her dead, and I owe you a debt for defying Rudolph.” Aya and Zev exchanged a look. Zev shook his head slightly.
“What,” Brandwulfr said, not phrasing it as a question. If these two had an agenda, he needed to know it now.
Instead of acknowledging him, Ava continued. “As a champion of the arena who causes no problems, I’m allowed a private cell as a reward. The tunnels behind it lead only to Zev’s cell. We can guard that entrance from the other side so you won’t be bothered.” She hurried Brandwulfr down the corridor, urging him forward with every word. They stopped outside a small, one-bunk cell. Aya urged them inside. “They only check to make sure my cell door is shut. They peek through the window to make sure I’m inside. If you hide in the tunnel until they’re done, I’ll go to Zev and we’ll keep an eye on things from there. Once she’s been taken care of, you can bring her to Zev’s cell. She can call to the guards from there. It’s what she did yesterday and this evening when she was ready to leave. No one will question it.”
Aya shoved Brandwulfr and Miranda inside the cell only to follow. She showed him the tunnel entrance, and Brandwulfr sat down on the floor to wait. This was madness. Aya and Zev obviously had their own agenda going on, but there was nothing for it. He just hoped the price wasn’t too high for their aid.
In complete darkness, Brandwulfr held Miranda close, his chin brushing the top of her head. This was madness. Complete and utter madness. If he’d let Rudolph’s daughter be killed by Haidar and Almarr, he’d have had some revenge. Maybe not everything he’d hoped for, but it would be more than he was likely to get now. No matter what she did, or how much he threatened her, there would be no escape. Brandwulfr knew that. In all the time he’d been here, there had never been a successful escape. Hell, no one who’d tried had ever even gotten out of the catacombs before being killed. Not even close. There weren’t even rumors of anyone having escaped. Why he clung to the notion that Miranda could somehow magically free him from this hellish existence was beyond him. Maybe it was just hope, a fanciful wish. But, dammit, he had to get word back to his people, had to make sure the Alpha knew he hadn’t deserted them.
“Ohhhhh…” Miranda moaned softly in pain. His heart gave a painful and unwelcome thud. Anger at himself spiked through him, but something inside him wouldn’t let him take it out on her.
“Shhh, love,” he soothed, continuing to rub his face over her hair. The action soothed him as much as he hoped it did her. “You’re safe. I just need to get you cleaned up before you call the guards to let you out. Can you let me do that?”
“I hurt,” she said quietly.
“I know. Let me take care of you for just a little while. Then we’ll talk.” She was silent for so long, Brandwulfr thought she might have gone to sleep. “You were right. I should have left when you told me to.”
“Don’t worry about that right now.” The heartbroken way she spoke made him want to kill that bastard Haidar all over again. Yes, he’d wanted Miranda scared enough to do what he told her to, but he had no desire to break her spirit.
It wasn’t long before Aya opened the tunnel entrance and ducked inside. “All clear. I’ve put up a drape over the window. I do it after every battle and they’re used to it. I like my privacy while I attend my wounds. Since I’ve never given them any trouble, they’ll respect my privacy for a while. You’ll have maybe an hour before they demand I take the drape down. I’ll be back in thirty minutes to check on you.” She glanced at Miranda before meeting Brandwulfr’s eyes again. “Make sure she heals.”
“What do you want, Aya? What do you hope to gain?”
“We’ll discuss that later. Just check her over and clean her up. If she’s going to get out of here without us all getting killed, you have to hide those bruises somehow.” Then she was gone.
The damage to Miranda’s face was extensive. Hiding it would be impossible by normal means. Still, Brandwulfr managed to clean the blood and grime from her face. Hesitating, he grasped the hem of her tunic. Raising an eyebrow, he met her gaze. She turned away but nodded, raising her arms as he pulled it over her head.
Her body was small, compact. Surprisingly, there was a fine layer of muscle beneath her skin. Small, pert breasts were covered by only a small scrap of linen wound around her torso instead of the lacy bras most human women preferred. At once, her nipples pebbled under his gaze. He watched in fascination as her skin erupted in chill bumps. Shaking himself, he snagged the blanket at the foot of the tiny bunk and draped it around Miranda’s shoulders.
“I’ll get you cleaned up, then you can dress again. Did you bring your cloak? Can you hide your face as you leave?”
She nodded slightly, closing her eyes and wincing when she did. “In the cell where all the wounded go. In the corner you let me rest in.”
“Okay. Can you wash your face while I send word to Aya where it is? You’ll need it when we’re done.”
Again she nodded, if slightly. “I’ll be fine,” she said softly.
Brandwulfr wasn’t altogether convinced. She looked like she might fall any second. But, honestly, he didn’t have much choice. With a curt nod, he slipped into the tunnels and back to Aya. With any luck, she and Zev would have little trouble retrieving the cloak, and he could get Miranda out of there quickly. There was an unease growing in his mind; his body seemed to prickle with awareness, and it wasn’t only for the woman in his arms.
At that moment, the earth chose to rumble beneath his feet, like it had for weeks now. Nothing too alarming, just…lazy. Threatening. Dust rained down on them and Brandwulfr hunched his body around Miranda’s protectively. He caught himself and frowned, straightening. He absolutely would not grow attached to this woman. Not only was she human, but she was the daughter of his tormenter, the man who had captured and tortured so many of his people. He was the Guardian, the Protector of the Realm. The great Master at Arms to his king. No one in Denwulf would tolerate a human among them. Especially not this one.
* * *
Miranda had never felt such pain. Her face felt like it was on fire, while each breath sent a sharp, stabbing pain into her side. Still, she supposed she was lucky to be alive. How in the world she was going to explain this, she had no idea. If she returned home like this, her father would likely slaughter every single gladiator in the place.
Well, okay, maybe not. That would lose him money, right? With a pain of regret for her disloyal thought, she stood and made her way to the small bowl of water. No doubt this
gladiator was a favored one. Not only was there water for cleaning, but the cell was obviously for only the one slave. There was a wall with one door. Only a single square, barred window instead of barred walls. A light drape over the window ensured no one would see her. This slave had much-coveted privacy. There was even a small mirror that had been cleaned until it gleamed. Miranda grimaced at the reflection. To say she was a mess was a galactic understatement.
Just then, Brandwulfr emerged from the tunnels. She whirled around, her hands over her breasts, acutely aware of her nakedness. Her cloak was nowhere in sight, but he did bring her bag. He frowned. “You’ve not dressed.”
“I was going to try to clean some of the bloodstains from my tunic. The ones near the neckline.”
Surprisingly, he nodded. “I might be able to help with some of the superficial damage to your face and body, but…” He trailed off, looking as if he hadn’t meant to speak aloud.
“I’m not so worried about the rest of my body, but my face…”
“Yes. I’m worried about that too. Not only would you be forbidden to come down here, but many of us would likely be killed. Rudolph would certainly use this as an excuse to murder me.”
“If you know of a way to mask the outward damage, now would be a good time to tell me,” she said.
With a muttered curse, he urged her to lie on the small cot. Still dressed only in her thin make-shift bra and panties, she did. She should have put her clothes on, but he’d already moved them aside, next to the water bowl for later.
“All shifters have great self-healing abilities. I’m sure you’ve noticed we heal much faster than humans, yes?” When she nodded he continued. “Most of us can assist others by licking their wounds, so to speak. In this place, if we were caught, it would be a death sentence for most of us. Your scientists would pick us apart, study every salivary gland we had until they figured out how to replicate the serum. It’s something we hold close and only use in private, no matter if it’s ourselves or one we care about.” He stared at her hard. “This is a secret I’m entrusting to you. Should your father find out—”
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