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Sheela is murmuring her spell, and the man topples over before he can finish whatever it was he was about to say. The others follow suit, crashing to the floor.

“Let’s go,” Sheela says her tone urgent.

I step over the nearest man, but as I do, a hand grasps my ankle, and I let out a little squeak. I try to tug free, but the grip tightens. I peer down; he’s definitely not asleep. Dark eyes glare up at me, a little unfocused, but the grip on my ankle is firm. I force the panic down. Sheela is frozen in place.

While I don’t have Nightfall, I do have a knife tucked in the back of my waistband. But do I want to kill this man?

I kick at the hand holding my ankle, but the grip tightens. I twist and turn trying to break free, but I’m held in place.Fuck.It is not going to end like this. I won’t let it. I just need to break free somehow. I stamp on his arm and hear a crack. But he still holds on. Maybe it’s a side effect of the spell and he doesn’t feel the pain.

I’m vaguely aware of Sheela moving behind him whispering words and then I’m suddenly really, really tired, and I’m falling, and then everything goes black.

Until something cold and wet crashes into my face. I gasp and blink.

“Oh Goddess, I’m so sorry.” Sheela is looming over me, a jug hanging from the fingers of one hand. I lick my lips. Some sort of beer. Not bad actually. I sit up and scrub my hand across my eyes. I’m all sticky. Ugh.

“I panicked. I didn’t mean to send you to sleep. I lost control.” She swallows. “I thought I was going to have to drag you out.”

I peer around and see the guard lying beside me, his eyes closed, snoring gently.

“Well at least you got him as well,” I say, wiping the beer from my face with the edge of the cloak. “I suppose we should move.” The guards are all motionless piles on the flagged floor. But who knows how long that will last. I scramble to my feet.

Sheela hurries across the room and pulls a ring of big iron keys from a hook on the wall. With a last look at the sleeping guards, I follow her down another corridor. The stench is worse here, but beneath it I can sense something else.

Something wild and feral.Wolf.

Sheela comes to a halt in front of an iron door. She’s muttering under her breath. Not a spell. Probably a prayer.

I’d pray myself, but I’m not sure anyone is listening. While I believe the “gods” exist, I’m not convinced they can, or would even want to hear the prayers of people.

It’s going to be fine. All good.

Animals have always liked me. Khaosti’s wolf liked me long before the man did—hefought the attraction every step of the way. So Fury won’t eat me. And hopefully, I can prevent him from eating Sheela as well.

“Are you ready,” she murmurs from beside me.

“Hell, no. But let’s do this anyway.”

She takes a deep breath and inserts the key, turns it in the lock. Then she pushes the door open.

The stench of caged wild animal fills my nostrils. And a barrage of emotions rolls through the air threatening to overwhelm me.

Predominantly rage. A dark, bloody, blind rage.

Sheela steps hurriedly to the side and I inch closer and peer into the cell.

Holy crap.

Chapter 11

Please Don’t Bite the Rescuer

Every one of my muscles locks solid. I’m frozen in place, staring straight into hell.

The chill hits me first—a damp, bone-deep cold that clings to my skin like a second layer. It smells of fear and filth and unrelenting rage, the air thick with the scent of despair. The metallic tang of blood lingers beneath it all, stale and sharp, clawing at the back of my throat.

The walls close in like a tomb. Stone, scarred and smeared with something dark, crowds the edges of my vision. The only light is a feeble spill from the corridor behind me, casting long, trembling shadows. I can’t tell where the cell ends, and the nightmare begins.

And in the deepest shadows, the glow of crimson eyes breaks up the stygian darkness, and a low, menacing growl rumbles through the air.