Page 73 of Wrapped in Their Arms

“You changed clothes!”she exclaimed, eyes going wide as she stared atBurn’sbare chest, then atBright’sbuttoned shirt.“Iwant new clothes too!”

“I’m afraid all of these are going to be too big for you, baby,”Burnsaid, motioning to the closet.Histone came out rougher than he intended—he didn’t mean to sound possessive, but the sight of her so exposed and vulnerable, the silver collar gleaming around her neck, made something dark rise in his chest.

Mine,a voice whispered deep inside.Ours.

“I don’t care how big they are as long as they cover me.I’mtiredof walking around all exposed!”she exclaimed, frustration written plain on her face.“Plus, this damn collar keeps shocking me every timeIaccidentally touch myself.”

She strode to the closet and began pulling out shirts, holding them up against herself for size.Finally, she picked an oversized men’s shirt—probably meant for aKindred-sized male or something close—and shrugged it on over the sparkling green evening gown.

As soon as she had it on,Noellelet out a long sigh, voice trembling with relief.

“Ah, that’s better.”Shetugged the hem down, finally able to cover her breasts and her soft, curvy body.

Burn couldn’t help thinking privately that he’d enjoyed seeing herluscious tits and her berry-dark nipples.Buthe didn’t blame her—he’d hated that fucking loincloth too and the way it left him exposed and vulnerable for the amusement of others.

Suddenly, his stomach growled, long and low.Hegrimaced, glancing atBright, who raised an eyebrow.

“I heard that—you must be as hungry asIam,”Brightremarked.

“Gods, it feels like we haven’t eaten in days,”Burnmuttered, rubbing a hand over his abs.They’dbeen given food the night before in theSkowprison ship, but only a third of it had been edible—if you could call it “food” at all.

“I’m hungry too,”Noellesaid, one hand unconsciously rubbing her belly.“Doyou think we ought to go find the kitchen?”

“If we want to eat,Iguess we’d better go,”Burngrowled, his tone dark but resigned.“TheTrolloxsaid the chef would feed us—right?”

“Right—and maybe we can get some information out of him,”Brightspeculated, sounding hopeful.“Comeon—let’s go.”

Burn led the way, his body still tense with the urge to protect and defend.Hedidn’t trust this place—not the cavernous halls or the too-quiet echo of their own footsteps, or the lingering stench of theTrolloxthat seemed to cling to every stone and stick in the house.

As they moved through the massive corridors, he kept one eye onNoelle, making sure she was safely sandwiched between him andBright.Everyinstinct screamed at him to protect her, to keep her close, to dosomethingto get them out of this place.

Gods, what kind of food doTrolloxeat anyway?

He remembered stories from his childhood, warnings about the monsters—the ones that devoured the flesh of weaker species.He’dnever wanted to be a vegetarian before, but suddenly the idea of eating anything prepared in this kitchen made his skin crawl.

Still…better than starving,he thought reluctant.Fornow, anyway.Wehave to keep up our strength if we’re going to get out of here.

He just hoped they would find a way out soon.

40

BRIGHT

The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, the deep pile carpet swallowingBright’sboots with every step.Eachstride was a labor, his legs sinking almost to the ankle in the plush green fibers.Itwas like wading through moss in an alien jungle—each footfall muffled and heavy, each movement slow.Noelle, caught between him andBurn, was struggling worse than either of them, her smaller frame sinking down into the carpet with every soft, slow step.

“Gods, this place is ridiculous,”Brightmuttered, glancing over at her.Shestumbled, nearly going to her knees.Ina flash,Burnscooped her up into his arms, cradling her effortlessly.

“No,Burn—I’mtoo heavy—put me down!”she protested, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“Don’t say you’re too heavy—you’re not,”Burngrowled, marching forward with her pressed to his chest as though she weighed nothing at all.

Bright smiled to himself.Itwas soBurn—protective, possessive, always ready to carry the weight for the rest of them.

He’ll never admit it, but he loves being needed,Brightthought, watching the easy wayBurnheldNoelle, their female tucked safely in his arms.

The kitchen door at the end of the hallway was as oversized as everything else in this giant’s house—over twiceBurn’sheight, carved from dark wood with a tarnished brass handle as thick asBright’swrist.Burnnudged it open with his hip and stepped inside.

The kitchen was cavernous—soaring ceilings, tile floors the color of tarnished copper, and an enormous island in the middle that looked big enough to host a feast for fifty.Anindustrial-sized stove dominated one wall, its surface scattered with giant pans and bubbling pots.Thecold unit was a monolith of brushed steel, easily fifteen feet tall, with doors wide enough to fit a small hover-car.Eventhe sink was massive—a deep basin filled with stacks of huge dirty plates, splattered with all manner of sauces and scraps.