Or maybe that was the venom. His stomach was churning, and he really needed a toilet or a bed or a single moment of peace.
“You can’t stay here,” Ithan said, but his voice seemed distant as Tharion walked to his bed and collapsed face-first onto the mattress. “We’re gonna find a way to get you out.”
“Too late, wolf,” Tharion said, words muffled against the pillows. They slurred further as sleep grabbed him with sharp talons and tugged him down. “There’s no saving me.”
* * *
Ithan found Sigrid pacing before the window overlooking the now-dim fighting pit. It was late enough that even its lights had been shut off.
“You should sleep—the couch is yours.”
Dec, Flynn, and Marc had all claimed spots on the floor—though from their breathing patterns, Ithan knew they were awake. After the night they’d had, how could any of them sleep?
Sigrid wrapped her arms around her thin body. “We’re trapped here.”
“No,” Ithan insisted. “I won’t let that happen.”
“I can’t be trapped again.” Her voice broke. “I can’t.”
“You’re getting out of here,” Ithan said. “No matter what.”
“Then why not go for the door right now?” she demanded, waving a hand toward the exterior door to the suite.
“Because there are six drugged-up Fae assassins on the other side, waiting to kill us if we do.”
Her face blanched and she rubbed at her chest. “Trapping us. I need to get out.”
“You will.”
She closed her eyes, breathing shallowly, losing herself in panic.
Ithan glanced across the room. The three sprites—now curled up beside Flynn and dozing as violet balls of flame—hadn’t seemed too panicked. Quiet, but … focused. Like they were accustomed to facing fear. It made his guts twist to think about it.
“Sabine will come for me again,” Sigrid said. “Won’t she?”
“She’ll try, but we’ll be long out of the city by the time she recovers.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t we leave immediately? When you took me out of the tank?”
Ithan stiffened. “Because I didn’t know where else to go.”
“A house with those buffoons was the best—”
“Those buffoons are my friends, and some of the best fighters I know,” Ithan warned, temper flaring. “Those buffoons risked their lives for you tonight—saved you tonight.”
Her teeth bared. “If Sabine will recover, then let me get to her body and rip it to—”
“Believe me, the thought crossed my mind. But …”
He didn’t finish the thought.
“But what?”
He shook his head, not letting himself go there, even mentally. “It’s late,” he said. “You should sleep.”
“I won’t be able to.”
“Then try,” he said, perhaps a bit more sharply than necessary.
Sigrid glared at him, then glanced toward the door to Tharion’s bedroom. “Was that the mer you wanted to get to help us?”
“Yes.”
She snorted. “I don’t think he’ll be much help to anyone. Not even himself.”
“You should sleep,” he said again. He’d had enough of this.
“Is this a thing you do frequently?” she asked suddenly. “Liberate people enslaved to others?”
“Only recently,” he said wearily.
He didn’t wait for her to reply before he walked to Tharion’s room, threw himself on the ground beside the heavily sleeping male, and closed his eyes.
6
About twenty feet into the tunnel, the beasts tapered off. They remained still, watchful, until Bryce had passed the last of them. Until she found bars blocking the way, save for a small door on the left side of the barrier. The door swung open at the touch of her hand. She had to stoop to get through, but it had clearly been designed to keep the beasts from getting out.
She made sure to shut the door behind her.
The metal groaned, and then hissing, like a swarm of angry wasps, filled the tunnel.
The beasts were writhing again, snapping jaws and heaving bodies scraping against each other, as if shutting the door had knocked them from their stupor. Bryce stumbled back in time to see one particularly massive beast lunge for the bars.
The iron shook with the impact—but held.
Bryce panted, surveying the sinuous death once again in motion. But the beasts were far too large to squeeze through the bars.