Page 44 of The Brute and the Blade

I nod, forcing my desire-drugged mind to focus. He's right. As much as I long to lose myself in him, to affirm our bond in the most primal way possible, we need to move. To get out of this accursed place before Varkos and his men regroup.

Grok must see the understanding in my eyes because he gives a sharp nod and steps back, though his hand finds mine and twines our fingers together. "I've got a small force holding the entrance," he says briskly, all business now. "But we'll need to move fast and quiet to make it out of the dungeons. Do you know these tunnels at all?"

I shake my head ruefully. "They didn't exactly give me the grand tour. But wait..." I close my eyes, picturing the twists and turns as the guards dragged me to this cell, the pattern of the torches on the walls. "I think I remember the way I was brought in. And if we can get to the guards' quarters, some of them might be sympathetic. They're not all loyal to Varkos."

Grok's eyes gleam, fierce and proud. "That's my smart, stubborn mate," he praises, the words sending a surge of warmth through me. "Lead the way, then. I've got your back."

And just like that, we're moving, slipping out into the torchlit corridor with Grok a silent, lethal shadow at my heels. My heart pounds and my senses strain as we navigate the labyrinthine tunnels, every splash and skitter from the dark setting my nerves alight. But through it all, the steady heat of Grok's presence grounds me, a reminder that whatever else is taken from me, I'll always have him.

I lead us up and up, taking turn after turn, trying to retrace my steps as best I can. More than once we have to duck into shadowed alcoves to avoid patrolling guards, huddling together in the darkness, barely daring to breathe. Each time, Grok's arms come around me, his big body curling protectively around mine. I melt into him, taking comfort in his strength, and he nuzzles his face into my hair, breathing me in like he's starving for the scent of me.

When the coast is clear, we move on, up another staircase and down a narrow corridor that I recognize. The door to the guards' quarters looms ahead, muffled voices and the clink of cutlery from the other side a welcome slice of normalcy. I motion Grok to wait and rap quietly on the door.

After a long, heart-palpitating moment, the door cracks open and a grizzled face peers out. It's Finn, one of the older guards who always snuck me extra rations, his eyes widening when he sees me.

"Lily, what are you?—?"

"No time," I hiss urgently. "Just tell me—are you with me? Can we trust you?"

He glances from me to the towering ogre warlord looming behind me and back, indecision warring across his lined face. Then, jaw firming, he nods. "Aye, lass. You've got friends here. What do you need?"

Relief rushes through me and I squeeze his arm gratefully. "Just buy us some time, and don't raise the alarm. Do that, and you won't be forgotten when this is over."

Finn wavers for the barest second but then nods resolutely. "For you, Red Blade? Anything." With a quick salute, he melts back into the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Grok makes a low sound of approval as we hurry on, finding a side staircase and spiraling upwards. "Friends in low places," he rumbles appreciatively. "Not bad for a human."

I snort softly. "You say that now. Just wait until your turn comes to haggle with the grunts. We common folk have to stick together."

He huffs a quiet laugh and squeezes my hand, his calloused thumb sweeping over my knuckles in a way that makes me shiver. "I'll keep it in mind," he murmurs wryly. "Now, unless I miss my guess, that door up ahead should take us out onto the battlements. From there we can find a way down to the outer ward."

My heart leaps and I pick up the pace, all but dragging Grok up the last few steps. We spill out into crisp night air and I nearly sob in relief, the sky an inky dome spangled with stars. A brisk wind whips my hair around my face and I gulp down deep lungfuls of it, savoring the freshness after so long in dank, fetid cells.

But my relief quickly turns to alarm as I look around, taking in the height of the stone crenellations, the sheer drop down into the castle's outer bailey. Where torches bob and glint off helms and spear-points as Varkos's men swarm below.

Beside me, Grok growls. "So much for stealth. They must have found my men at the entrance." He glances left and right, sharp gaze assessing. "No obvious way down, but if we can cross the wall there, we might be able to climb down the other side while they're distracted..."

My pulse kicks up but I nod, jaw setting with grim determination. Together, we sprint down the wall, feet pounding on ancient stone.

A guard pops up on the path in front of us, and Grok takes him down with a roar, fiercely punching him in the head. I pause to sweep the guard's blade up into my hand, its weight a familiar comfort. Behind us, a shout goes up and I risk a glance over my shoulder to see soldiers pouring onto the battlements, steel glinting in the moonlight.

"Go!" Grok roars, whirling to put his bulk between me and our pursuers. "I'll hold them off!"

"Like hell you will!" I snarl back, dropping into a fighting stance at his side. "We do this together or not at all!"

He bares his teeth in a fierce, feral grin, eyes alight with savage joy. This, right here, is the male I love—the warrior, the warlord, exulting in the chance to fight at my side. "Then let's show these bastards what it means to face a mated pair," he rumbles, and charges forward with a mighty bellow.

I'm half a heartbeat behind, swinging the sword I snatched. We crash into their front line like a force of nature, all whirling steel and stunning brutality. Back to back, we fight, Grok's massive axe cleaving the space, each mighty swing finding flesh and bone. I dart between, fast and vicious as a viper, striking at throats and piercing hearts with ruthless precision.

We are death, destruction; poetry in motion. Mates. Ogre and human, differences seared away in the crucible of combat until we move as one lethal entity. It's glorious, exultant, and for a breathless span of moments I forget about escape, about anything but the next target, the next kill.

But there are so many of them, a flood of crimson and steel with no end in sight. And for every one we fell, a dozen more swarm in to fill the gap. Even Grok's massive strength and my human speed can't hold out forever against such odds.

Slowly, steadily, we're forced back, hemmed in on both sides until our backs press against the unyielding stone of the wall. Gasping for breath, bleeding from a dozen shallow cuts, I chance a desperate look around. It's a twenty foot drop on the other side, nothing but the thin spars of scaffolding clinging to the sheer face. Certain death if we're lucky. If not...a messy, lingering end.

But a quick end is better than capture, better than giving Varkos the satisfaction of breaking us. And gods help me, I want one more chance to hold Grok, to feel his arms around me before the darkness takes us. Better that than the thought of him watching me die at a torturer's hands.

I risk a quick glance up at my mate, my heart, and find his eyes already on me, wide and fierce and shot through with an aching tenderness. "Together?" I gasp out, the word mangled to near unintelligibility. But he understands. Of course he does.

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