“Oh shit,” Bael whispered. “We’ve been collared.”
Able to sit up, Thierry looked over at the incubus, only to see a shiny silver metal collar around Bael’s neck. Thierry reached up to his own neck and felt a matching collar.
The bewitched piece of metal would prevent any shifting abilities, including supernatural healing and strength. Smallwounds could be fatal for shifters who wore an immortality-reversal collar.
“Are you collared?” Thierry urgently asked Nix, gripping the metal bars of the guys’ cell.
Nix replied weakly, “Yup.”
“Fuck.”
“How bad is your wound?”
Nix bit her lip to silence a whimper of pain as she pressed on her back wound, trying to apply pressure to avoid bleeding out. This time around, Nix was about to die because of her own choices. Not her mates’ decisions.
Her mates had listened to her wishes and gone along with her plan, and she still…
“Damn it,” Nix whispered. “Time really is a sick son of a bitch.”
“Time?” Persius asked.
“We will get you out of this,” Thierry promised her. “Apply pressure and lay on your stomach, so gravity doesn’t help you bleed out.”
Nix blew out an amused breath. “I’m already doing that.”
Thierry grunted with pride. “That’s my good fucking mate. Smart and beautiful and a warrior. You will survive this. We will all escape this.”
“We’re collared,” Bael reminded him. “Since when areyouthe one preaching optimism?” he asked the gargoyle.
“As opposed to what?”
“The boring, old facts you normally preach.” Bael groaned as he rolled his stiff shoulders. He flipped Thierry off. “Fucking nerd.”
“Hey, he’s my nerd,” Nix said defensively.
The men…were all hers. Somewhere, in the deep recesses of her mind, she had sworn to protect them. To cherish them. To love them.
I need to get them out of here.
Footsteps sounded from down the hallway. Nix turned her head, resting her cheek on the cold cement floor as she tried to see who was approaching their cells.
Her captor.
Mr. Lemmuns.
She was a caged, weak, powerless birdie for him once more.
CHAPTER 41
“Hello there,” Mr. Lemmuns said cheerfully as if he were at a meet and greet with free donuts. “You all sure ruffled some feathers at the assembly now, didn’t you?”
“Who the fuck are you?” Bael snapped.
Nix ground her teeth and whispered, “Him.”
“Him?” Ryker growled in question, remembering all too well the torture she described of Mr. Lemmuns plucking her feathers.
Persius’s voice sang out like pretty bell chimes; yet, he said, “You’re fucking dead, pal.”
