my way out. You’d wake up back in your cell, and you’d never find me.”
Her upper lip curled. “Fine,” she conceded. “But as long as we’re clear on the fact that I am going to fucking kill you.”
Maddox snorted, then licked her cheek from the curve of her jaw to the corner of her eye. It was a stupidly possessive and territorial gesture, but he did it anyway. “I’m pretty clear on the facts, kitten,” he whispered before jerking her away from the wall and gripping the chain once more.
“Blegh,” she grimaced. “Dick.”
“You wound me, kitten,” he snarked. Braced for any further attempts, he resumed his mad dash to find them a place to ride out the security breach. Twelve doors later, he found what he wanted. Gripping the door, he yanked it open and ignored the racket it made. Just another lovely feature of the supernatural roach motel they called Nightmare Penitentiary.
Empty.
Hauling her inside, he released her in the direction of the empty cot in the corner. This room was actually smaller than the one he’d found her in, but it would do. Pulling the door closed, he put a palm against the handle and muttered three words. Now to see if the cost of those syllables had been worth it. The spells flared, and his nose burned at the sudden icy metallic stink wafting at him. Retreating a few steps, he settled into a stance as he listened.
To his continued surprise, Fiona didn’t interrupt or say a word. It wasn’t long before the shuffle of footsteps reached his ears. Even the sound dampeners of the too thick walls and their magic infused layers could muffle it fully.
The drag and thud wasn’t shifter or troll. Sentinel.
They’d loosed them in the prison.
Not an unusual occurrence.
Fin. Hear me.
He waited a beat, but got no response. Telepathy wasn’t in his wheelhouse of skills either. That was all Fin. If the little fucker listened for him, he would be able to respond. Then again, it might be the prison itself. He was a few levels lower than planned, and escapes usually triggered stronger defenses.
Fin was on his own.
Clever bastard could figure it out.
The shuffling steps continued along the hall, but Maddox held off facing his charge until after the sentinel’s steps faded in the distance.
They’d have to sit it out for a few hours at least.
Pivoting, he met the baleful glare of his charge. Instead of saying anything, she merely raised her eyebrows, then held out her wrists. The rich tang of copper hit his nose at the same instant, and saliva flooded his mouth. Concern drenched his earlier rage as the blood ran in rivulets from her savaged wrists.
“Fuck,” he swore and reached for the first shackle. Pressure applied in the right spot should release them, but they refused to budge. The metal itself had begun to sink into her wrists.
Lips compressed to a thin white line, she stared at him with fiery retribution in her eyes. The shackle didn’t release as he continued to press into it, and the blood slicking her arms began to pool on the floor. The overwhelming fragrance with its sensuous notes of bourbon soaked vanilla stoked a hunger he hadn’t experienced in well over five hundred years.
The magic in the shackles wouldn’t release. Renewed anger flooded him. So far, this retrieval had turned into a clusterfuck. “You shouldn’t have run,” he growled at her, and she shifted her fingers, curling three of them and her thumb, leaving only her middle fingers extended at him. “Very cute, Kitten.”
“Stop calling me that.”
He considered it for a beat before he gave her a smile that was more grimace than grin. “Sorry, Kitten, no can do.” He didn’t mean the apology about her name but about the fact he had to grip and tear the shackles. The metal screamed and fought him as he wrenched the first one open. The magic zapped along his arms, and the unpleasant odor of singed hair polluted the air.
Fiona didn’t make a sound as he ripped the first shackle off. The horror of her flesh would haunt him for a while. Blood dripped steadily, even after he removed it. Fortunately the second one didn’t fight him and responded to the correct pressure points, popping open.
“What the fuck are those things?”
Maddox stared at the dwarven-forged cuffs. They’d cost him his weight in gold and had held everything from a mad troll to a wild vampire in a feeding frenzy without ever breaking.
And he’d had to