Page 43 of The Brute and the Blade

Even for those she should hate, by all rights and reasons.

"Incapacitate them if you must," I continue, my voice low and lethal. "Knock them out, tie them up, but do not end them. Not unless you have no other choice, no other chance to complete the mission."

They nod, a grim acceptance settling over their features. They don't like it, I can tell they don't, but they will obey because it comes from me.

From their chief, their chosen who has never led them astray.

Even when the path, the purpose goes against every instinct, every inch of what they are.

"For the Red Blade," Sharak rumbles, his voice a low, fervent growl. "For the female that holds your heart, we will be anything. Do anything, even if it damns us, dooms us in the eyes of our ancestors and breaks our ancient codes."

The others echo his sentiment, their voices quiet in the enemy’s presence, but fierce and loyal all the same.

Emotion swells in my chest, a tidal wave of gratitude and allegiance to these males who would follow me into the very mouth of hell for the sake of my happiness, my wholeness.

With that fervor driving us forward, we plunge into the bowels of the keep, navigating winding corridors and hidden passageways mapped out by careful scouting. Closer and closer to the thrum of the bond pulling me ever-onward, the sense of Lily blazing like a beacon in my mind.

The roar of my pulse drowns out all else, urgency building to a fever pitch as we near our goal. Just a little farther, just a few moments more and?—

A sudden clang of bells shatters the tense silence, the alarm raised by some hapless guard. Shouts echo off stone, the thud of booted feet converging. My warriors tense, teeth bared and hands flying to hilts.

"Go," I snarl, waving them onward even as I break into a sprint. "Secure our path. I'll not leave without her!"

They melt into branching corridors without hesitation, dispersing to wreak whatever havoc is needed to keep our escape route clear. I spare them hardly a glance, eyes locked on the iron-banded door at the end of the hall. On the sense of Lily just beyond, searing my soul.

With a final burst of desperate speed, I'm there. A savage kick splinters aged oak, the lock giving way with a tortured shriek. Then I'm through, momentum carrying me across the threshold of a small, stinking cell.

And there she is. Chained. Battered. Eyes blazing with the same defiant fire that captured me so long ago.

Our gazes lock and the world falls away, a maelstrom of emotions roiling between us in that suspended second. Relief and rage, longing and dread, the promise of violence and the ache of reunion.

"Lily," I rasp, her name a prayer on my tongue. "I've come for you."

The tension stretches taut as a bowstring. Then, slowly, she smiles. A fierce flash of teeth, bright as blood against bruised skin.

"Took you long enough."

18

Lily

The screech of tortured metal splits the gloom of my cell as the door bursts open with a deafening clang. I'm on my feet in an instant, pressing back against the damp stone wall, blinking against the sudden flare of torchlight silhouetting the massive figure in the doorway. Every instinct screams danger, urges me to lunge for my captor's throat, to fight my way free or die in the trying...

But then he steps forward into the guttering light and my heart seizes. Not with fear, but a sweet, disbelieving relief that steals my breath and brings a fierce smile to my cracked lips.

"Took you long enough." As soon as I say it, tears well in my eyes. “Grok... you came for me.”

His eyes find mine across the shadowed space, molten amber crackling with emotions I can't even begin to parse—fury, relief, tenderness, and something wilder, more intense, that sets my blood alight. In two strides he's across the cell and I'm in his arms, crushed against the hard, hot wall of his chest as he buries his face in my hair.

"Lily," he rumbles, and the raw ache in his deep voice, the way it breaks on my name, undoes me. "Of course I came. I'll always come for you. Always." His hands are everywhere, roaming over my back, my arms, my face, as if reassuring himself I'm real, I'm whole. "When I heard you'd been taken, I thought...gods, I was so afraid I'd lost you..."

I fist my hands in his tunic, pressing as close as I can, breathing in the wild, woodsy scent of him. "I knew you'd find me," I whisper fiercely. "I never doubted it, not for a second. You're my heart, Grok. My home. And I will always, always find my way back to you."

He makes a rough sound low in his throat and then his mouth is on mine, hot and hard and hungry. I open for him with a gasp and he surges in, his tongue tangling with mine in a slick, scorching dance that sends fire licking through my veins. It's a claiming, a communion, pouring every ounce of fear and longing, relief and love, into the desperate slide and tangle of lips and tongues and teeth.

By the time we break apart, I'm breathless and trembling, my lips bee-stung and tingling. Grok rests his forehead against mine, his chest heaving as he struggles for control.

"I want you," he rasps, his big hands flexing on my hips. "Gods, Lily, I want you so badly I can barely think straight. But we don't have time. The guards I knocked out won't stay that way forever, and once the alarm is raised..."

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