Page 22 of Trapped for Her Blood
If I wake him, would he take me to join them? Help me escape?
My gut says no, and I can’t risk him stopping me. My best chance is to wiggle from his sleeping hold without waking him. His arm is now draped across my hips, heavy but gentle, not gripping.
His breaths are even slower now, so long and deep it seems like each takes nearly thirty seconds, and I time my movements with his respiration. Each time he inhales, his chest expands against me, and on his exhales it moves back.
So, on each inhale, I slide forward with him. Then when he exhales I capitalize on his body’s movement to shift his arm down my leg.
I repeat these movements over and over, each time moving a half-inch, sometimes only a quarter inch, but if we keep up this pattern, I might get free.
Twice he grumbles in his sleep, low rumbling noises erupting from inside of him, and I freeze, praying I haven’t woken him, but he settles back into his languorous breathing pattern, and I continue to make progress on my escape.
Finally, the only contact between our bodies is his arm across my bent lower legs. Now is my chance.
On his next inhale, I push my arms into the ground and pull forward, releasing myself from him completely.
He moans, almost whimpers, and then thrashes in his sleep.
I scramble away to stay clear of his long heavy limbs. His expression in the firelight is both terrifying and painful to look at. His face twists and contorts as a high keening wail comes from inside him. I’m almost tempted to crouch down to soothe him, to wake him from what looks like a horrible dream, but mostly I’m grateful that I’m not inside his arms anymore. I narrowly escaped being collateral damage to his nightmare.
He settles, and his breathing slows, and I once again admire the rugged and powerful beauty of him. It might be the last time I see him and it seems wrong to leave without saying thank you and goodbye, but I can’t risk that.
Spotting a torch on the ground, I light it using the glowing hot coals of the fire, and then make my way into the cave’s dark tunnel that leads back toward danger. But also my best chance of escape.
I walk quickly, but my bare feet grow cold on the damp stone floor, and the torch only penetrates into the darkness a few yards ahead of me as I progress.
Fear screams inside me that I should turn back. Axe said he would keep me safe. What am I thinking by leaving him?
I’m just about to turn back, when I see the faint glow of light from the main passageway. I set down my torch—carrying it will draw too much attention—and I creep slowly to the mouth of the cave.
Looking left, then right, I see no one. But it’s so dark that doesn’t mean much, and vampires have the advantage of night vision. But I need to move. Otherwise I’ll be stuck down here another whole month. I won’t survive that long.
To my left, voices echo off the walls, and I move toward the sound. If the vampires are fed only once every moon cycle, surely they’ll all be headed to wherever that happens.
This place is a labyrinth of passageways and I fight to keep track of my route, but there are so many turns and everything looks the same to me—all darkness and stone.
I hope I won’t have to return to Axel’s cave, but if my plan is a bust, I’ll need to find my way back.
Less than twenty feet ahead of me, a group of vampires, all male, enter the passageway I’m in.
I freeze, pressing my back against the stone wall, terrified that I’ll be detected.
I wait until they’re only dark shapes in the distance, then follow, stopping at the junction they entered from to check for others, and then hurrying forward.
The sound of voices, shouting, fighting, grows louder and my belly tightens. What the hell am I doing walking toward this obvious danger?
But I have to be brave. I have to take a risk for the chance to escape. It’s time to face up to the fact that Ryker and Zuben abandoned me, and while I felt a connection to both men that went beyond my physical attraction, I can’t sit around hoping that one of them will come back for me.
Sure, I’m a damsel in distress, but not one who’s going to cower in the corner waiting for rescue.
The voices grow even louder, coming from an opening ahead.
“Fuck you! You’ve had enough!”
“Shit. This one’s empty.”
The voices overlap, punctuated occasionally by screams of pain, and I dig deep for my last crumbs of courage.
I peek around the corner; my heart seizes.
