Page 26 of The Claiming

“What? And give me an unfair advantage.”

I chuckle softly, and his eyes gleam with amusement.

“Perhaps I’m a gentleman.”

“Perhaps you are.”

I’m surprised when he reaches for my hand and I’m even more surprised that I don’t snatch my hand away. Instead, I love the pressure of his skin against mine and am intrigued by the flutter in my heart as he smiles at me with a softness I never would have credited him with.

He tugs me along with him and the entrance soon narrows as we make our way deeper into the space, our torchlight courtesy of the phones in our hand, which acts as our only guide.

Somehow, it’s not so scary with Frankie holding my hand, which should irritate me, but I kind of like it.

There are several doors lining the passage and Frankie explains, “These were the dungeons. They kept the prisoners here and only chucked bread and water through the bars. If the prisoners chose to eat and drink, it only extended their time here. It soon became apparent that their quickest way out of here was to stage a hunger strike and allow their body to shut down.”

“That’s horrible.”

I shiver with revulsion at how cruel life was back then, and Frankie shrugs. “It was a defense strategy from the monks. They weren’t strong enough to fight, so they used their minds instead.”

“Twisted minds.”

Frankie grins, his teeth white against the darkness. “The best kind of mind.”

I roll my eyes as he chuckles and as I follow him, the air is darker to match the shadows as we walk deeper into the dungeon.

At the end is a huge iron door and as Frankie opens it, it creaks and drags against the dirt floor.

“What is this place?” I gaze in awe at the huge room that is different from the rest, and Frankie lowers his voice to a husky whisper. “I read it was considered the ceremonial room. Prisoners were dragged here to repent their sins and try to earn their escape. Through that door are the tunnels leading down to the river. Tradition has it that if they confessed to the watchful monks, they were given a shot at freedom. If they made it to the river, they were free.”

“Did that ever happen?”

I tighten my hold on his hand and his voice sounds loud against the still air. “There are no reported escapes from Rockwell dungeon. None that I have heard of, anyway.”

“But it can be done?” I inject some steel into my voice and Frankie nods.

“Sure. We have tested it and if you know where you are going, it’s pretty easy.”

I’m confused. “Then why weren’t they successful?”

“Because they didn’t know where they were going and were caught before they figured it out.”

“Then what happened?” I’m fearful to even ask and Frankie’s response doesn’t settle my apprehension.

“They were claimed.”

“How?” My mind is spinning as I attempt to decipher his words.

“The monks had centurion guards who were trained in combat. They were also monks, but they used the younger, more able members of the congregation. They dressed in cloaks with masks covering their faces and were shifty as fuck and corrupt of the mind.”

“Go on.” My eyes shine as he reveals the secrets of this place, and I’m surprised when he pulls me a little closer and his husky whisper drags against my ear. “They hunted the thief down and when they caught him, they claimed his soul.”

“How?” My heart is racing as Frankie’s breath dusts my ear and the heat from his body merges with my flushed skin. He is so close –weare close and in the current atmosphere I am surprised at how turned on I am right now.

“The thief was dragged like a trophy back to the ceremonial room and sacrificed on a stone altar to God.”

“Seriously.” I’m horrified and Frankie nods, his head closer as a result of the movement. His fingers clench mine and his body grazes against my thin clothing, causing a rush of heat to spread through my body like a lit fuse.

“They were brutal times, baby girl.”

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