Chapter Twelve

Khal

 

 

L yrie’s stifled moans each time she shifted cut through me like the pain was my own. But she persisted. If fact, she was determined to change more swiftly, more often, than I thought smart, pushing her frail body to extremes.

As soon as the guards had shoved us back in the cave, we’d bolted, trying to find the elusive source of the waft of fresh air. But the catacombs stretched endlessly, and we were slowed by our human forms. Hartlin had warned that, in exchange for the removal of the drugs, guards would check on us three times a day, and we’d be expected to present for visual inspection. Therefore, our time to explore limited, we were soon forced to retrace our steps.

True to Hartlin’s threat, each time the guards unlatched the heavy door at the top of the rough-hewn steps, shoving a tray of unappetizing slops across the stone landing, Smithton was with them. His flashlight ranging up and down Lyrie’s body, he’d peer eagerly into the gloom where we stood as ordered. Licking his lips, as though he could see beneath the rough synthfab of my shirt, which Lyrie still wore. Bastard. I’d known he was trouble, even when the rest of the Felidaekin and I’d been on assignment in the desert with him. In every altercation, the sniveling coward had hidden behind us. We’d only learned later that he’d deliberately endangered us to assess our shifter abilities.

Now he coveted my woman—my woman. The phrase sat right, so I didn’t argue it in my mind—now he lusted after Lyrie, and I resented every damn time Jag had counseled our captain, Herc, to exercise restraint when dealing with the slimy son-of-a-bitch. Better if Herc had followed his gut instinct and killed him when he’d caught him trying to rape Maya.

The frequent checks meant Lyrie and I couldn’t risk an escape attempt until we were certain of our energy and ability, because we’d have less than eight hours to navigate the caves and find an escape route, before the Regime realized we’d gone.

“Enough, Lyrie,” I said as she sagged against me, shuddering with the last pain of the shift. At least turning back to her human form was becoming easier with practice. And, for me, I had the bonus of her ending up naked in my arms each time.

Her head against my chest, she nodded, her breasts heaving with her labored breaths.

If she was agreeing to quit for a while, she was beyond exhausted. I scooped her up, and carried her to the crude bed we’d made from the few items the Regime had provided, moving our things further into the cave system than we had before, where I was sure we were beyond their spying cameras.

I could’ve placed her on the coarse blanket, but instead I sat, cradling her in my lap. She didn’t fight or struggle, but curled small against me, as though she could absorb my heat and strength. Not that I had any damn strength. Each time she took flight, wavering and wobbling only inches above the rocky floor, or more confidently stretched her magnificent tawny-furred legs, bolting down the dark passages, I’d wait until she’d moved away. Then, when I was certain she couldn’t see my failure, I’d try to will my own shift. Sweat pouring down my back with the effort, curses and useless promises to the gods on my lips, I knew I’d done nothing to deserve their favor.

“You need to eat,” I murmured into her hair.

“Can’t,” she sighed.

Shifting her to the crook of my arm, I leaned forward and scooped some of the thick, grey porridge—no doubt high in nutrients, but definitely low in taste—onto a piece of hard, dry, flatbread, and passed it to her. I should be grateful for the regularity of the disgusting food, at least. Gods knew, Lyrie needed it. Already thin, she was exhausting herself with her strenuous regime of shifting and exercising, testing her abilities.

She only ate a couple of bites before, like the previous couple of days, she fell asleep in my arms.

And I just sat there holding her, because what the hells else could I do? Neither of us had mentioned our promise to the Regime, our unspoken understanding being that Lyrie learning to shift had to take priority. We’d deal with the other issue when we were forced to.

Not that it’d be hard to deal with, at least not for me. Because, damn, I ached for her. Cat form or human, I wanted her again.

But I wanted her properly, this time. All of her. All of me. No holding back.

And that was part of the reason I didn’t push the issue with her; I wanted her to know that when I took her, when we mated, it was because I wanted to, not because we were drugged, forced or coerced. And how the hells did I tell her that? How could I explain my change of mind to her, when I didn’t understand it myself? I was simply aware that I both needed and wanted her, a deep urge that came from somewhere inside me that I’d never known existed. In any case, what was the point of trying to explain, of burdening her with my unwanted, inexplicable feelings? If she focused on eating, sleeping, and building her strength, there was a chance I could get her out of here before our time was up. Once she could manage and maintain her shift, she’d be able to either run or, where the caverns widened, spread her magnificent wings and cover ground more quickly that way.

My arms tightened as she moaned in her sleep, and I closed my eyes. Not because I needed to sleep, but to imprint the memory of the feel of her in my mind. Unable to do more than bring forth my claws and fangs, a ripple of muscle across my shoulders and along my forearms, I was damned useless, neither man nor cat enough to deserve to be with her. And that meant I’d soon have to let her go.

Spike’s plan to break out of the exercise yard wouldn’t work now that we were incarcerated underground. Gods only knew where he’d been locked up, and what the Regime were doing to him, but Lyrie had to be my priority, now. She was dependent on me. Despite her fierce anger and determination, she’d never get out of here without my help. Once I was confident she could manage her shift, I’d draw the guards’ attention, and pick a fight and distract them while she made a break for freedom.

If she managed to find the hidden exit and get out, she’d be all alone in the desert, defenseless and fending for herself in the wilderness, and the thought of that ripped me apart, seizing my heart and crushing it between the jaws of a great cat.

But if she didn’t escape, she’d die in here with me.