Page 102 of To Catch A Rogue

"We have to find her," Kincaid gasped, grabbing the flask off him and draining it with determination.

"How? We don't even know where we are. And we've been asked to leave. I don't think I want her to have to ask again, do you?" He nodded pointedly at the body beside them.

Kincaid's eyes held hell.

He punched the wall with his bio-mech fist, and Charlie caught the other man's hand before Kincaid could hurt himself—or ruin the new limb.

"Stop! We'll get her back. I swear we'll get her back. Think, Kincaid. I know you're at the mercy of the craving right now, but Ava would want you to think, wouldn't she? She wouldn't want you injured or dead because you rushed in blindly."

Kincaid slid his hands over his face, curling both human and mech fingers into his hair. Every inch of him shook. "You don't understand. A long time ago, a man kidnapped her and performed the most horrific experiments upon her. This is her worst nightmare." He groaned. "I promised I'd always protect her. I can't just leave her there. I have to find her."

Charlie squeezed his shoulder. "And we will. But we can't do this alone. We need the rest of the Rogues."

Chapter 19

Heels rang on the stone staircase after days without seeing a soul.

The Duke of Malloryn lifted his head slowly, his shoulders aching as he shifted in his chains. Once again, he was strung from the ceiling, though he couldn't remember when they'd taken him from the box that last time.

He was losing track of time.

Losing track of himself.

Inch by inch they stripped the urbane essence from him, until only the primitive nature of the craving remained.

A loud clank echoed through the cellar and then the door opened. Light spilled through the bars containing him, and his gut tied itself in knots as he looked to see which one of them it would be.

He could tolerate Dido.

She took no real pleasure in his pain, determined to do her duty and nothing more, nothing less. But Jelena had promised to break him, and as the days stretched into nights and the nights stretched into days, he was starting to wonder how much fight he had left in him.

The odds weren't in his favor.

Jelena materialized, a long black cloak swirling around her ankles as she lifted a silver wolf's head mask from over her head and discarded it on the floor. In the lantern light, her cheeks were flushed pink and she smiled almost girlishly as her eye locked upon him.

"Did you miss me?" she purred.

He forced himself to hold still, fighting against the instinctive tremor of his body. "Been counting... the days, love."

"Ah, that insolent tongue. I'm going to cut it out one day. And then I think I'll feed it to you."

He forced himself to shift onto the balls of his feet so his weight wasn't hanging entirely on his shoulders. "What's it to be today? The whip? The knives?" His mouth went dry. "Your Iron Maiden?"

He didn't think he'd survive another run locked inside it, the silver-tipped spikes driving further into his flesh whenever the machine ticked through its circuit. The silver burned, and the ache was constant.

But he couldn't afford to let her know that.

"Ah, no. Not today. I have something special in mind for you today. You're not the one who's going to be bleeding."

"If you think me squeamish, I beg you, think again."

"Let's test your resolve, Malloryn." Jelena grabbed a fistful of his hair and jerked his head back. "It's been weeks since you've tasted blood. I'll bet you'restarving. All those injuries exacerbating the craving virus in your body. It hungers, doesn't it? Do you want blood, Malloryn?"

He turned his head, his predator eyes locking upon her and the pulse pounding thickly in her throat. "Are you offering?"

Jelena laughed, letting his hair go as she backed away. "Oh, no, Malloryn. Not I."

His fingers curled into a fist. The world was flickering around him, a harsh grating sound buzzing in his ears as the hunger rose at the mere mention of blood. Ever since he'd been infected with the craving virus at the age of fifteen, he'd been in control of himself.