he could escape in a flash if he wanted to—which he didn’t.
“Wow, these guys aren’t exactly shy, are they?” Craig’s warm breath tickled Alun’s ear.
“It is their way. And under the circumstances, one can hardly blame them. We might not all return alive.”
Craig put his hand lightly on Alun’s stomach. “Hey, now… While that is technically true, it’s important to go into battle believing you and your buddies will come out again alive and as well as possible.”
“That’s practical, I suppose. There’s no sense in going in without confidence. I’ve learned to never get my hopes up. Disappointment is easier that way.”
“Well, I would like a chance to help you change your perspective.”
Alun turned slightly to look at him. “You’re welcome to try, and you can start by getting out of Dracul’s lair hale and hearty.”
In the dimness of the cabin, Craig’s white teeth flashed with a smile. “That is the plan. Now, you should get some sleep.”
“Yes.” It was an easy order to obey. He was tired and fretting over the image of Annika curled up inside the trunk. She’d looked almost dead by the time he’d closed the lid for good, having fallen into her stasis almost immediately. Mother of God, please let her be right about all this. He still didn’t know exactly what she intended to accomplish. She’d only shared with him her desire to access Dracul’s computer system. He didn’t understand what she needed that couldn’t be found back in Boston, but her determination was resolute. At least she was dressed sensibly in green yoga pants and top, although she was barefoot for some reason. Her lovely hair was bound in a braid as tight as his own. Whatever she planned, she was not going at it playing the princess—or rather, Queen.
It was too much to think about and, as there was nothing he could do short of letting Craig—and by extension everyone else—know about who was sleeping in the hold of the plane, he tried to put it out of his mind. He fell asleep fast, closing his eyes mere moments before he sank into oblivion, except this was not going to be a restful night. The nightmares started just as rapidly.
He was back in the castle, the great room where the warriors were gathered. Dinner had been cleared and another restless evening had to be endured. There was little for the warriors to do, so they amused themselves with fighting and making the humans play sadistic games. Many were already being fucked by their masters. Alun himself was in a typical position of being bent over the table he’d helped clear and being mounted with brutal force.
He tried to relax, to not fight the invasion. It only made matters worse and he knew that was what the monster who owned him wanted. Not that he needed an excuse to hurt him, but goading Alun into disobedience was a game that he often played. Alun knew what to do—stay down, breathe in and out and let the creature tire himself. He’d become good at surviving by burying his rage. This time, though, it was different. There was a reason for him to resist. Freedom lay just beyond his reach. He could almost see it out there, across the room, emerging from a dark corner. Something was taking shape. Someone. A warrior stepped forward, big and broad, with skin like coffee. He beckoned Alun, the force of his stare sending a wave of power and courage across the room.
Alun reached for it, reached for him, but his monstrous master held him down. Alun struggled to free himself. The man in the shadows nodded in encouragement. Alun could practically hear him saying, “You can do it.”
“No, I can’t. He’s too strong.”
“You can. Use the strength I know is inside you. Believe in yourself. I do.”
Alun thrashed and bucked. He wouldn’t let this keep happening. He trusted the shadow man, saw hope in his gaze, found bravery in his reassurance. But the more he struggled, the tighter the hold on him became. Now it was his arms and chest being pinned. His breath became trapped in his lungs. When he tried to scream, nothing came out.
“Easy, baby, I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
Alun’s eyes popped open and he saw only muted lights and heard the whir of engines. He was in the plane, and those arms holding him on the couch were Craig’s. Without hesitation, he turned to bury his face against the man’s chest, shuddering with the