Warrior's Hope (Dark Protectors #16)(66)

Hope stared at the dresses. “I am not going to be forced into anything.” Yet she might be forced to cooperate to save Paxton’s life.

“You should at least put a dress on,” Lyrica said, eyeing the fabrics.

“I don’t think so,” Hope retorted. “What are they doing with the enhanced females?”

Genevieve gave a small squeak and moved to the side, away from them both.

Lyrica rolled her eyes. “Stop being so scared. We will get out of here somehow.” She softened her tone. “It’ll be okay, I promise. For now—” She looked at Hope. “Drake said to tell you if you didn’t put a dress on and come downstairs, he is going to cut off parts of Paxton’s anatomy. He wasn’t bluffing.”

Hope shivered, shocked by the brutality of her old friend. She wanted to cling to the idea that he didn’t mean this, and he wasn’t really going to go forward with anything he’d threatened. But even inside her head, the words rang hollow. “Fine,” she said. There was more material in the dresses than her yoga pants and tank top, so she actually didn’t mind changing if she had to be seen by anybody. However, she wasn’t sure she could fight as well in one of the heavy skirts. “Which one?” she asked.

Lyrica instantly reached for a blue one that had diamonds sewn along the V of the waist. “This one. It’s the lightest material, and if you have to, you can tuck the bottom into this band around the waist to fight,” she said.

“Excellent choice,” Hope said, glad to have found an ally. The dress looked a lot like the one commonly seen on Cinderella. She quickly changed into it and had to suck in her breath so that Lyrica could secure the bodice. The woman had to put a foot against Hope’s back and pull the strings in order to tighten and tie the corset.

“Man, these people are stuck in the last century,” Lyrica sputtered.

“No kidding,” Hope said, looking over her shoulder. She wasn’t wearing shoes and needed to remedy that. Her heart hurt. Drake wasn’t the person she’d thought, and she felt stupid. He’d been good at manipulating her; she’d wanted peace so badly. “Let’s pick out the most pointed ones we can find just in case I need to kick somebody in the eye.” There wasn’t a lot to choose from, and in the end, she went with the Manolo Blahniks.

Genevieve still cowered by the bed. “They like us to wear our hair braided and away from our faces.”

“Good to know,” Hope said. She flipped her head over and ruffled her hair, making the strands even bigger and fuller. And then she tossed it back, letting her waves fall around her shoulders and down the dress. “I’ll go like this.”

Lyrica cracked a smile and smacked her on the arm. “Good on you. Now, let’s go tell that asshole you don’t want to be his queen.”





Chapter Twenty-Eight


Paxton came to with his brain feeling as if missiles were exploding in his head. He stilled, knowing instantly he was in danger but unable to remember how or why. He forced his eyelids open and saw the top of a cage. Memories came rushing back. In one smooth motion, he rolled onto his feet and then staggered.

The outside cage had bars on all four sides, and the top was tall enough he could barely touch it on his tiptoes. People scurried around him. There were soldiers patrolling, and every once in a while a female or two would walk by with food or laundry. Their heads remained down, their movements fast.

Most ignored him, although occasionally a soldier would stare, trying to intimidate him. He barely kept from rolling his eyes. He tore all of the darts out of his body and focused on pushing the other bullets out. He was definitely weakened, and something was happening to his muscles. Whatever had been in those darts was the same drug already destroying his system, so now it was just going to happen quicker.

He had to get Hope out of there and to safety before he died. He didn’t know how a drug could kill him, but everything inside him told him the crap chugging through his veins was deadly.

Drake strode out of the main headquarters. He was tall and broad in that Kurjan black uniform with all the silver medals on his chest. His gaze scanned the area, and then he clomped down the stairs and walked across the packed snow to reach Paxton. “You’re up sooner than I would’ve expected.” He held a well-worn leather-bound book in his hands.

Paxton squared his stance. “Where’s Hope?”

“She’s inside, preparing to become the queen of the Kurjan nation,” Drake drawled. “It’s going to happen, so you might as well stop clenching your fists. You’re going to need all your energy.” His lips ticked up.

Paxton looked up at the sun, which had started to shine.

Drake followed his gaze. “We’re getting better,” he said, pride and anticipation in his tone. “We can stay in the sun for about four hours now. Our scientists are close to making it permanent. How are you feeling with that sun, Paxton?”

Actually, he wasn’t much liking it. The heat touching his fingers around the bars felt like a burn. “What was in that drug?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Hope really believed you wanted peace.” There were times Pax had hoped for that outcome as well, but he’d never trusted Drake.

“I will have peace once the Realm falls.” Drake clasped his hands behind his back.