Caged Kitten (All the Queen's Men #2) - Rhea Watson Page 0,129
as I passed by, flinching ever so slightly when I raised my hand and clapped him hard on the shoulder. Our eyes met, dragon and fae, and an unspoken understanding passed between us. In no way did I condone him doing this without consulting Rafe or myself, but it was happening. No going back now. No stopping it.
He had tried to take the less dangerous of the two paths, but Katja dragged him down the one full of thorns and brambles—all the way back to me. And Rafe. And, of course, Tully.
I could respect that.
But I also wouldn’t let anyone hurt her either. She ought to be better armed than she was now so that despite our collars, she could still protect herself.
“Come along,” I rumbled, snatching her hand as chaos erupted in the metal shop. “Let’s find you a more suitable weapon.”
“Yes…” Katja squeezed my hand as she hurried to my side—the perfect match for me, this little witch. Her eyes all but glittered when they drifted toward the semiautomatic rifles prepped for shipment this weekend, and when they met mine, I realized I was a fucking goner. She nibbled her lower lip and pulled me toward the firearm of her choosing. “Let’s find us both a weapon to—”
“Oh, little mate…” I yanked her back and stole a hard, fiery kiss that had her gasping and Fintan chuckling. When we broke apart, I cupped her chin and arched an eyebrow. “I am the weapon.”
26
Rafe
I awoke to a blitzkrieg.
My eyes snapped open at the distant explosion, the walls of my cell shuddering. Dust sprinkled down on Tully and me, the lone lightbulb overhead swinging back and forth. Another boom, followed by the wail of a siren, and as I blinked the fog of my afternoon nap away, I legitimately thought I was in London and the Germans were bombing the absolute shit out of us—again. Back in my flat, unable to enlist—medically disqualified after a checkup by a human physician I had vampirically encouraged to scribble whatever I told him on my chart. The war. The war to end all wars—
Only Tully wasn’t there during the war.
Another crack-boom, more violent than any of our recent thunderstorms, followed by another misting of chalky dust from the walls and ceiling. Then just the siren—and men shouting. Groaning, I sat up, forcing Tully to sink his claws into my chest so he didn’t tumble off. We had retired to my cell hours ago if the heat on the window said anything, the sun at a different spot in the sky now, and the silly familiar continued to purr away, steadfast, stubborn enough to think he could regrow my fangs. Unfortunately, their loss was one he couldn’t fix, magic or not, but I found comfort in his company, in the constant vibration of his deep, soothing purrs.
Just me and Deimos in Cellblock C today, the bastard off from library duty and the rest of our crews gone.
And now—
Wood splintered outside my cell, then another boom sent chunks crashing across the block. Metal warped with a pitchy groan, and Williams gave a lone shout before being silenced by gunfire. Two shots—bang, bang—and then nothing but his moans. Tully whipped around, doubled in size and completely rigid. Both of us tracked the warlock guard’s wand as it bounced across the floor outside my doorway, away from him, like someone had kicked it.
What… the hell?
Tully clung to me as I tried to stand, growling low, his tail swishing, and I finally had to just peel him off in order to get upright. The familiar toppled to the ground with a yowl, then darted for a nearby shadow. Brushing the dust from my face, my hair, my arms, I staggered for the opening at the end of my cell, still blinking the sleep away, all the while wondering if this was a nightmare.
Until I saw them.
My people.
Elijah, Katja, Fintan—and a guard hostage. The main door to Cellblock C had been blown apart, most likely by the wand in the trembling warlock’s hand, and just as Katja opened her mouth to greet me, lips stretched in a nervous smile, Deimos blitzed out of his cell and across the block. The demon moved like a great black shadow, faster than I’d ever given him credit for, sprinting by Elijah and straight out the door. Smart. With none of his cronies here and bedlam unfurling outside, we could have finally just killed him.