Page 15 of The Warrior's Captive

“Come on.” His hand closed over her upper arm, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to let her know he was serious about her not pulling anymore shit and wasting time they couldn’t afford when they were already running out of that precious commodity. “We have to find a vehicle. We stand zero chance if we don’t have that.”

“Where will you go? Back? To the coast? North? Do you just plan on driving forever, until we reach the water, and continuing on?”

A boat wasn’t a bad plan, but even then, they’d eventually be found. No matter how many years it took, he knew he’d be hunted until proof of his death could be obtained. Unless… unless he could make his pack see reason. But that would involve going there, and they weren’t the kind of men who liked to listen to the truth and take it as such. They had a tendency to kill first and ask questions later. They would be far more willing to believe in betrayal than claims of loyalty and innocence.

He was starting to see that Briar May was right. This woman who had probably zero world experience and certainly zero experience getting her hands bloody or even dirty.

The life he’d been living with his pack, what he’d thought was a warrior’s life, was missing something vital. He’d prided himself on surviving for years, but all he’d done was stay alive. That shouldn’t be such an accomplishment.

And running and hiding was no life at all. It was just another cage, and wolves couldn’t live locked behind bars.

He made the decision in an instant, before he had time to wonder at it and regret it and change his mind because it went against every single one of his instincts. “I’m taking you back to your pack.” It wasn’t the best option, but it really was the only one left to them. If he returned to his pack alone, then perhaps he could talk his way out of whatever accusations had been made against him. That’s if her pack didn’t kill him first.

A rock and a hard place.

Chapter 7

Briar May

They stopped for the night, not at some rundown motel in the middle of nowhere, but at a five-star high rise in the middle of Omaha.

She had to trust that Hades knew what he was doing. He’d ditched their stolen car in an alley in the middle of the city, but not before a stop at a gas station to clean up and buy a large tote bag to hide his axes in. He might look like a warrior from a bygone age, but it didn’t help to advertise the fact that he actually was—a warrior that is. From his city knowledge and organizational skills, he was clearly a man of the twenty-first century. Then they popped into a shopping mall, and he bought them both outfits. They’d found another huge gas station and changed in the massive restrooms.

Hades cleaned up well.

He didn’t seem the least bit exhausted or worse for wear, but that stuff was reserved for mortals, and Hades was proving that ink on his chest wrong again. He didn’t seem the least bit human, not even when he undid his braids and combed his hair to either side and neatly secured it in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. His hair covered the tattoos on the side of his skull and the black suit he’d purchased did the rest. The beard even looked half respectable. The overall appearance was hipster Viking, which surprisingly enough, didn’t look too out of place in this part of town.

She’d done her best to finger comb her hair. The skirt, blouse, and heels Hades bought were all exactly the right size. It was appearances that got them through the front door. She’d sat on the red velvet sofa in the ritzy hotel lobby with its gold and red carpeting, massive chandeliers, and all the wood paneling, as Hades smoothly presented a credit card and photo ID, both of which were obviously fake, unless he really was called Mr. Brandon Smith.

Their hotel room was on the top floor. She’d expected the same ritz and old Hollywood style glamour of the lobby and was taken aback at the stark white and black modern minimalism. The room didn’t have anything more than any regular room did, but it was pristinely clean, with huge windows, thick black velvet drapes, white tiled floor, a California king bed with one of those upholstered headboards built right into the wall that went far past the borders of the bed, two square nightstands and crystal lamps in the same shape, and a huge TV mounted to the wall. There was an ultramodern looking bar on the other side with assorted waters, sodas, and beers. The bathroom was a monstrosity, larger than her whole cabin back at home. It had a walk-in glass shower with water that fell from the ceiling, a huge square bathtub, two sinks, and a separate area for the toilet that closed off from the rest of the bathroom.

The first thing Hades did was stalk around the room, checking every corner and cupboard, and then he yanked the drapes closed at the windows. The hotel had fourteen floors and they were right at the top. He’d splurged on the penthouse suite, no doubt hoping that would keep them safe, or at least that they’d be able to see their enemies coming. The elevators used a keycard to gain access to all floors, and all the doors were locked in the stairwell—Hades checked that before they’d even gone into the room—but she could tell he was still worried it wouldn’t be enough.

Honestly, she should have been afraid, but she was so exhausted it was hard to do more than throw herself on the bed fully clothed and let out a moan because the mattress and all those layers of sheets and a huge feather duvet felt so good.

It seemed like forever since she’d been taken captive—she’d been missing for almost three days now. What would her brother Kieran, the pack alpha, be doing? The twins would have made it back safely and told everyone about the band of marauders. Would they have a search party looking for her?

Her eyes glanced around the room and alighted on Hades, who appeared to be staring off into the distance, lost in his thoughts. Once more she took in his figure, even dressed in a suit she could see his hard, muscled form and the way the jacket clung to his arms.

Once more her body betrayed her, and she felt a flush of heat run through her.

What was it about this man?

She knew they’d only stopped for the evening because she couldn’t go any further.

Hades made no mention of it, but he’d clearly noticed how exhausted she was from walking half the night and the rest of the morning when he’d caught up with her. Her feet might not have been shredded, but they were aching. She’d never felt so exhausted in all her life.

His stopping even when he wanted to keep on indicated he was human despite everything.

“Have a bath,” he instructed over his shoulder. He pulled out a chair in front of the desk area that was part of the dresser thing along the wall and sat down. He was still graceful, but she sat up when she saw his shoulders slump inward slightly on his bad side. “I’m going to sit here and get a plan together.”

“The plan is to go back to my pack. I’ll make sure you’re okay after that.”

She felt like he wanted to laugh at her or mock her naivety, but he didn’t. His large, rough hands came together on the surface of the desk. He didn’t question whether he could trust her or not, but maybe whatever her family would do to him was still better than what his pack would do.

His rough sigh caught her off guard. There was definitely something wrong with his side. He was hurting and he was so used to hiding it, he wasn’t even going to look after himself.

She’d watched him sleep in that little farmhouse, and while he didn’t look comfortable, he did look peaceful. He lost the scary edge he’d perfected when he was awake. In those hours while she ran through scenarios and ended up changing her mind and deciding that fleeing was better than staying with him and fighting it out together, she’d memorized every scar on his chest, every muscled detail, every vein and every tattoo.

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