Instead of taking her hand again, he simply scooped her up, holding her close. She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest as he ran headlong for the arena. Above them, the sky was a red and orange haze through the ash and smoke. No doubt the city above them was nearly consumed in flames by now. It wouldn’t be long before chunks of buildings started falling along with the ash and rock.
The entrance to the arena loomed before them, the catacomb entrance down a ramp on the left side a few hundred yards away from it. Just as Brandwulfr was sure they’d make it, a chunk of burning rock struck his shoulder. With a cry of pain, he was thrown to the ground. Miranda flew from his arms, landing on her hip to roll several times before coming to a stop. She sprang to her feet, however, running back to him.
“Oh, my God! Brand!”
“Keep going,” he grated out. “I’ll be right behind you. Get to the shelter of the tunnels.” He shook his head several times, trying to get to his feet. His shoulder hurt, but not like it should. Probably a delayed effect as the tissue and bone were stunned. To his dismay, Miranda grabbed his other arm, helping him to his feet. “What the fuck?”
“We’re in this together, Brand,” she said. “I’m not leaving you just like you wouldn’t leave me.”
“I’d leave you in a heartbeat, you stupid little girl,” he bit out. The pain was starting to set in, the initial shock and numbness wearing off quickly. “Get to the ramp!”
“You’re not winning this argument, so shut up and get moving, wolf,” she snapped right back at him. Perhaps it was the pain getting to him, making him react to things differently than he normally would have, but her show of defiance and dominance when the situation called for it shot through him like a punch to the gut. In an instant, he was hard as fucking stone.
“Gods, woman.” His voice was husky. For once, he didn't have that dangerous bite in his words. Instead, the need there was plain for her to hear. Miranda looked up at him, her face going pink as she realized where his thoughts had gone.
“How can that possibly turn you on? We’re going to get killed out here!”
“Beats the fuck out of me,” he groaned as he urged her forward once more. “But I intend to remedy that when we get inside.”
“Brand! Stop it!” Her protest might have carried more weight with him had he not seen the ghost of a smile.
“Tell me that later. Go!”
His arm over her shoulder, they moved as quickly as they could toward their goal. Every step he took shot pain through his shoulder and side. He was beginning to think he was hurt far worse than he’d first thought. By the time they entered the tunnel leading to the catacombs, he was practically panting for breath.
“How bad are you hurt?” Miranda asked as she urged him to sit while she probed the wound.
“Badly,” he grated through clenched teeth.
“Not only are you burned, but I think you shattered your shoulder. This isn’t something that’s going to heal quickly, no matter how fast you can repair yourself.” He winced when she hit a particularly sensitive spot. She spotted the big well where most of the water for the catacombs was drawn and ran to it. Lifting a bucketful from it, she ripped a swatch of cloth from her skirts and dipped it into the water before returning to him. “Let me clean this while you rest a bit.”
He clenched his teeth, as even her tender ministrations hurt like hell. It was hard to bite back a yell of pain, but he managed. Just. Even still, a groan escaped before he could stop it.
“You’ve definitely broken your shoulder,” she muttered. Ripping a second strip of cloth from those skirts of hers, she fashioned a sling, then tied his arm to his body with yet another strip.
Gods, he didn’t need this. Not only was he hyper aware of her, but that damned dress she wore revealed as much as it concealed. As before, the underskirt was an opaque silk. It was covered with several layers of a filmy material that just begged a man to see what was underneath. If that wasn’t enough, there were slits in the material everywhere. The fronts of her thighs peeked through past mid-thigh. The backs of them, too. The sides were slit nearly to her hip. Six slits at least, and those shapely legs peeking out to tantalize and torment him… Yeah. He was doomed to be as hard as fucking hell until he had the chance to relieve himself with that luscious little body of hers once again.
“Let’s get moving,” he said, getting to his feet. “I want to open the cells to let everyone out. If they choose to come with us, so be it, but I’ve got to get you to safety before I do anything else.”
“Brand—”
“Not now, Miranda! Please.” He caressed the side of her face. Separating from her would slice his heart open. He couldn't think about. Not now. “I need to know you’re safe. My people will shelter you until I get back. For now, let’s get these people out of here and get to the portal.”
She looked like she might protest, but when he stroked his thumb across her bottom lip, she closed her eyes. “Fine. But understand this is a huge decision for me. If I get stuck on that side of the gate, I can’t get back home.” She wouldn’t be going back home anyway, but that didn’t mean she wanted to go to his world.
“Just trust me to see you safe, Miranda.”
She looked at him, her blue eyes seeming to pierce through to his soul. “Can I? Only a few days ago you would have been happy to have me in this situation so you could hurt me.”
“Things are far from over between us, love, and far different now than they were then. But I swear to you, I just want to make sure you’re all right.”
Seeming to consider this, she nibbled her bottom lip and, despite his pain, his thoughts focused on what else he wanted her to nibble on. This need of her was bordering on obsession. Maybe he just hadn’t gotten enough this afternoon. Maybe he never would.
With a sigh, she helped him to his feet. “Okay. Just let’s get this done. I’m not at all comfortable being here after the last time.”
“Understandable.” He groaned as he stood, looking around. The guards were gone. Trace scents remained, but no one was left but the gladiators. And all of them were locked in their cells.
“Sky City and even the arena itself may be state of the art, but down here, it’s nearly ancient. They have their keys on an old-fashioned iron ring hanging on a fucking peg somewhere. Should be out here before the inner gate.”
“You’re kidding. Right?”
He gave her an annoyed look. “I’ve been here for five years. I’ve learned a few things, love.”
She raised an eyebrow at him, but started searching. In reality, he knew exactly where the key was hanging. But while she looked, Brandwulfr took inventory of his injuries. She was right that he’d fucked up his shoulder. While she’d done the best she could, he knew he needed it back in the socket if it was going to heal. He waited until she disappeared around the corner before standing and knocking it against the stone wall as hard as he could. The pain was bad, but he bore it without a sound, knowing he had to present a strong front for Miranda. She was doing okay now, but he knew she was riding a fine line between fear and overwhelming panic.
“Got them!” She came around the corner waving the keys, a smile on her face as if she’d just discovered the key to a treasure vault. He had to force a grin as he walked to her, adjusting his sling as he went.
“Good. Let’s get these people out and get to the temple.”
More than one man gave Miranda the side eye as she unlocked the doors. Brandwulfr bared his teeth several times, reminding the shifters she was under his protection.
One went so far as to sniff the air in her direction. “I see you’ve marked her. I’m sure the king will be proud to take her in.” The man’s sarcastic snarl didn’t help Brandwulfr’s mood. Or that Brandwulfr had once planned on keeping Miranda with him in Denwulf as the equivalent of a slave himself. It didn’t matter that she would never be treated as anything less than a wife, no matter what. No one would accept her once they found out what had happened, guar
anteeing she'd be treated as no better than a servant in her own home. When these men returned home to tell their tales…well. If Brandwulfr's people ever figured out how to open the portal from their world, there would be a war unlike anything Miranda's kind had ever seen.
The last cage they opened was Aya’s. She and Zev sat on her small cot, holding hands, their heads bent together in conversation. When he opened the door, both looked more than a touch relieved.
“We thought you weren’t coming,” Aya breathed, a smile brightening her face.
“I can’t promise we can get out alive,” Brandwulfr said, “but I did vow to try to get you out.”
“You know where the gates are?” Zev asked, his anxiety easy for anyone to see.
“I know where one is, though I have no idea if it will truly open for us, or where it will open.”
“This place is about to come crashing down around our ears,” Aya said. “I suspect anywhere on our plane is better than here right now.”
“Agreed. Do you know where the old temple is?”
“I’ve seen it a time or two when they took me out.” Zev glanced at Aya, clearly not liking to admit to that. Brandwulfr could guess what he’d had to do.
“Good. Meet us at the entrance. I have to get something from my cell.”
“Should I round up as many of us as I can?”
“Yes. I intend to make a trip back, but there’s no sense in leaving behind anyone we don’t have to.”
“Be careful, brother,” Zev gripped his upper arm, squeezing slightly.
“We won’t be long,” he nodded, understanding Zev’s concern not only for a fellow wolf, but his woman as well. As long as Brandwulfr remained in the tunnel holding the means to open the gate with him, Aya was in danger. But he couldn't give Zev the crystal. As long as Brandwulfr held the key to everyone's freedom, no one was likely to risk trying to kill him. It nettled Brandwulfr that he had to cater to another man, but in this there was no help for it. The men had to get both women out of danger as soon as possible.
Taking Miranda’s hand once again, he trotted through the deserted tunnels to the cage he’d called home for five years. There probably should have been something he wanted to take with him, but all he really wanted were his weapons, some armor, and some godsdamned pants.
“Help me,” he commanded Miranda, trying his best to sound authoritative when he was embarrassed he couldn’t do this himself.
She looked at him thoroughly before going to him with a sigh. “Would it hurt you to say please?”
Though the situation was anything but smile worthy, Brandwulfr found himself fighting a grin. “It might. Why take a chance?”
With a roll of her eyes, obviously fighting her own grin, Miranda tugged his leather pants up his lean hips, underneath that flimsy wrap. Her fingers seemed to linger when they touched his skin, caressing him briefly, though it might have been his imagination. Gods, he needed her again! Brandwulfr yanked off the wrap and adjusted the back of the pants over his ass with trembling fingers. This time, her hands molded the cheeks with a little squeeze. Definitely not his imagination. A quick glance down at her, and he knew she was going to torment him with the laces in front.
“You’ve seen everything I have,” he said, his voice breaking deep as the need that had ridden him since he’d first started getting to know her body hit him once again. “Just tie the laces and we’ll be gone.”
“I don’t think you’ll fit,” she observed, tilting her head.
He chuckled as he replied, only half kidding, “You could always ease my suffering.”
Miranda yanked on the laces harder than he’d have liked, causing an involuntary wince. Hastily, he adjusted his cock before she finished lacing his pants and tying them securely. “Just imagine what I might have done had you said please.” She smirked.
“Nice,” he growled, leaning down to give her a hard kiss. “Come on. Let’s go.” As they left, he snagged an armored vest and a sword he’d squirreled away in the event he had a chance to escape. Looked like today was the day.
His shoulder throbbing with every step, dread building with every passing second, Brandwulfr raced through the catacombs with Miranda’s hand tightly in his. Several times, they dodged falling chunks of rock. More than once, Brandwulfr hauled Miranda under an archway as larger sections of the tunnels began giving way. Always, he shielded her body with his, needing to howl with the rightness of it even as he regretted how he’d begun things with her. She still didn’t trust him, though she was as infatuated with him as he was with her. He’d soon earn that distrust. Convincing his king that not all humans in this realm were worthy of their hatred, especially the daughter of a man every single shifter currently congregating at the portal loathed with a savage intensity, was not going to be easy. He feared it a near-impossible task. At once, he was torn between his duty to his people and his duty to the woman he’d taken under his protection. Somehow, he had to come to terms with both, find a balance that was as likely to topple over at the first breeze as it was to stand true.
They’d just reached the long tunnel that lead to the temple proper when another deafening boom shook the earth. Miranda screamed, covering her ears and crouching as she ran. Every sense Brandwulfr had screamed for him to take cover. Miranda would have kept going, running as fast as she could, but he yanked her to a stop, pulling her into a small alcove, practically throwing her to the ground beneath a low overhang. The shelter was partially hidden behind stone and concrete, but it lacked the full protection he would have liked. Brandwulfr followed her, his big body crowding hers until she was mashed between the wall and his chest.
“What are you doing? We’ve got to get out of here!” Her heart was pounding. He could hear it, could smell her fear as it rolled off her in wave after bitter wave.
“Cover your head!” he snapped, knowing they were about to face death. What it was he didn’t know, but it was coming. Now.
“But we’re—” Whatever she was about to say was cut off with a blast of fiery heat. The inferno was punctuated by noxious fumes that burned the nose and lungs as much as the heat. Brandwulfr wrapped his body around Miranda, tucking her face against his chest as tightly as he could. Pain seared his back as his armor heated with the blast. He buried his face in Miranda’s hair, hoping to filter out some of the fumes, even as he knew this was likely his final resting place.
For long, long moments, hell washed over them. He knew the stone alcove shielded them from the worst of it, but Brandwulfr wasn’t certain it would be enough. A scream was ripped from his lungs as the armor continued to heat, burning his back until the pain became nearly unbearable. Miranda trembled in his arms, letting loose her own cries of pain and fear. When he smelled his own flesh cooking, he knew he was in trouble. Especially when the pain gradually receded, the nerves destroyed.
“Miranda…” he breathed next to her ear. “I’m so sorry.”
“Brand?” Her voice broke and she looked at him, her eyes widening. “You’re…hurt?”
“Burned,” he managed. In all the time he’d fought in the arena, all the injuries he’d suffered and healed from, this pain was the worst. Most of his back was now blessedly numb, but the entire back side of his body, was one scorching mass of pain from his neck to his ankles. As the hot gas and smoke receded, the lingering heat and fumes were still nearly unbearable, but Brandwulfr and Miranda were somehow able to look at each other. Her lovely face was now streaked with ash, and bits of her lovely hair were scorched where the air had whipped it around despite his best efforts to completely shield her.
“Is it over?” She whimpered her question, tears leaking from her eyes and running in rivulets down her dirty cheeks.
“I think the worst is past,” he managed to say. Brandwulfr tried to scoot out into the open, but when he moved, his wounds screamed in protest. Never had he known pain like this. When sweat broke out over him, a fresh wave of agony enveloped him as the salty moisture invaded the abused tissue of his back. “Nee
d to…get…this armor…off,” he gritted out between clenched teeth. “Gods almighty!”
Somehow, Miranda wiggled around his body and out from their shelter, doing her best to help him but, he knew, unsure how to go about it without hurting him more. Apparently, she decided it was either hurt him now or risk dying in another blast like what they’d just lived through because she grabbed his armor by the straps at his shoulders and pulled with all her might. She gave a savage grunt as she used her entire body weight to pull him out of the crevasse he’d wedged them into. He rolled to his knees, trying to keep from touching any part of the back of his body against anything. Pain continued to assail him with every movement. Never in his life had he lost consciousness. Now, he wasn’t sure he could keep from it.
Gingerly, Miranda unbuckled his vest to remove what was left of it. There was no containing the gasp as she pulled the leather and padding away from his skin.
“Oh, God,” she said softly. “Brand...I…”
“I know,” he managed. “Let’s just get to the portal. It should be just down the hall. In the center of the temple.”
She tried to help him by putting his arm across her shoulders, but in order to steady him, she had to loop an arm around his waist. Which set off a fresh wave of pain with every touch. Instead, she tried to grip the remains of his leather pants—which wasn’t much—until the material covering his backside and part of one thigh finally gave way beneath her fingers. A sudden panic seized him until he dug into his pocket to find the tiny gem Gray had given him. He squeezed it tightly, closing his eyes as relief washed over him. They weren’t finished yet.
Naked, in more pain than he thought he could bear, Brandwulfr stumbled down the corridor. The floor was covered in hot ash and rock, burning through their shoes. Miranda tried to kick the larger debris out of the way, but he insisted she shouldn’t hurt herself on his account.
“Don’t be stupid,” she snapped as she gave one rock a particularly vicious kick. “I would have burned right along with you if you hadn’t shielded me. This is the least I can do.”
Gladiator Wolf (Gladiators Book 1) Page 13
