Page 19 of Princess Broken

“One of us should carry her.” Blade’s thumb strokes my hand, sending a different kind of tremor racing through me. “Her feet are bleeding.”

“My feet have healed in the time we’ve been stopped. And I’m right here,” I say sharply. “Covering my eyes didn’t make me invisible.”

Phil laughs, and I turn my head toward the sound. Of all the men, he’s the most confusing. Laughing one moment, angry the next, and he’s the only one without an on-the-nose nickname.

“I’ll carry her,” Phil says.

My entire body tenses.

“Fine, princess,” he says sharply. “You pick then. But pick quickly if you want a choice in the matter.” His tone is gruff, wiping away all evidence of his earlier chuckle.

Blade loosens his hold on my hand, and I shift toward him. Taking the hint, the tall man scoops me into his arms, and my hands fly around his neck to hold on.

Blade’s neck is strong, the tendons flexing under my palms, and his skin is as smooth to the touch as it appears. Shifting my hand position, I feel his blood pumping in his neck, and my body is drawn to him as if my body’s a magnet and his is steel. With that image in my mind, I fasten myself against his chest so hard he might not need his arms to hold me.

The salty, sweet scent of Blade fills my entire body. My fangs tingle, but hunger and sex are the very last things I should be thinking of right now.

The men start to run, more quickly than before, and my brain fights to keep track of the rapid turns over miles and miles of tunnels. Twice, I try to remove my blindfold, but Blade quickly stops me.

“Please don’t,” he says the second time I reach for the blindfold. “If you do, we’ll be forced to take more drastic measures to hide our home.” His tone is more pleading that threatening, and so I comply.

After running for another several minutes, making many turns, we all stop. “Hold on,” Blade tells me. “I need to climb.”

He shifts me in his arms and I use my legs to hug his body, my feet barely able to touch on the other side of the wall of muscle comprising his torso. Then the power in his shoulders and chest become even more obvious. His muscles flex as he climbs a very long ladder.

At its top, he runs again, me still hanging off his chest, and one of his warm hands rests on my lower back to keep me steady. Heat and electricity transfer from his palm, and my entire body hums with a confusing and contrasting mix of danger, protection and arousal.

He slows. “Steady,” Blade whispers close to my ear. And then we drop.

My stomach rises to my throat as we fall at least forty feet, but Blade lands easily, and then immediately runs. Although I can’t see, I can sense that Crusher is leading us now, Flame and Phil forming a protective wall behind Blade and me, and we move through the tunnels like water, twisting and turning, flowing through the spaces without friction or pauses to question direction.

I’ve stopped trying to keep track of the turns, or even the number of ladders we’ve ascended, the holes we’ve dropped down. I’m too focused on the individual signatures of all four men. But my perceptions are dominated by Blade’s—by his touch, his powerful movements, his potent and delicious scent as my hunger intensifies.

The air is fresher now, and I pull my face a few inches away from Blade’s sweet, masculine scent to inhale deeply. The air is not only fresher, it carries a cool humidity, and when I tune out the sound of Blade’s beating heart and the flow of his blood, I detect the trickle of running water.

Soon, cold water splashes up onto my bare toes as Blade runs, and I realize that the water is running through the tunnel beneath us. Releasing one hand from Blade’s neck, I reach out, and my fingers brush smooth, stone walls. Very smooth.

“That’s right,” Blade says quietly. “This passage was carved by water. Still has water running through it here. Careful though. Hit a bump and you’ll break your wrist.”

I drape both hands around his neck again. “How much farther?”

“We’re close.”

I reach to remove my blindfold, and this time Blade doesn’t stop me. Over his shoulder, most of my view is filled by Phil and Flame and I confirm that we’re in a long, rounded underground passage, the water now running in a stream at the side of the tunnel, set off by a dam of closely set stones that looks like it was built a long time ago.

Phil meets my gaze. His eyes narrow, annoyed my blindfold’s off, but he just shakes his head slowly, and I get the feeling that his anger is more an admonition of Blade than anything directed toward me.

Flame is focused past us into the distance, his blond hair flashing in the dim light. He’s staring forward so intently that I’m compelled to turn my head to see what he’s looking at, but even with my head turned, I mostly see Crusher ahead of us, and the strain is hard on my neck.

Realizing I want to look forward, Blade shifts and holds me with one arm as I ride on his hip. From this position, I can sometimes see past Crusher.

The tunnel continues forward, widening, but far in the distance lies a dead end, with a wall of heavily armed soldiers standing in front of it. Dressed in black from head to toe, even their faces covered, the soldiers are all aiming massive weapons toward us.

My heart rate accelerates. “Will they shoot?” I ask Blade softly.

“Let’s hope not,” Phil says from behind me. “Each of those guns can shoot a hundred wooden stakes a minute.”

“What?” I cling more tightly to Blade, pressing against him, but I’m immediately annoyed at myself for revealing my fear.

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