The Jackal (Black Dagger Brotherhood - Prison Camp 1)

By the time they halted, sometime later, more of his senses were upon him and he was aware of a ringing pain in his side. There were three other focal points of similar nature, but it was the one under his ribs that made him think his brothers had been correct in taking him unto the species’ healer.

Another transfer upon the pallet. A door opening and closing.

Voices now. A number of them.

Along with the scents of roasted beef and lamb. And . . . quite distantly . . . the sound of a string quartet?

This made no sense.

He turned his head back and forth, the movement doing nothing to aid his sight.

“Is this the healer’s abode?” he mumbled.

And then a voice he recognized, but that further confused him.

“Of course, he will have a room. The very best room my home has to offer.”

What the hell was he doing at Jabon’s estate?

Every step forward Nyx took was a fight. Even though the tunnel she was going through was empty, no barriers in front of her and no stalkers behind, she had to force herself to keep going on the gradual descent. She had her flashlight in one hand, the guard’s gun in the other, and her anxiety riding her back like it had thrown a saddle over her spine and put on spurs. As she approached another turn and things flattened out underfoot, she couldn’t believe how far she had gone, and to make sure she didn’t get lost, she took only lefts. At any of the branches she came to, she went to the—

Coming out of a corner, she stopped.

Up ahead, there was a stretch of darkness, the lights strung along on the ceiling extinguished.

Nyx jumped back out of sight of that which she could not see. Putting her shoulder blades against the damp wall of the cave-like cutout in the earth, she willed the light above her off—

The hands that grabbed her and pushed her face-first into the wall were hard, biting into her upper arms. And before she could react, the gun was taken. Her flashlight, too. Then her pack was ripped off and a palm clamped on the back of her neck to hold her in place.

Not a word was spoken, and the speed was such that it seemed to all happen between one heartbeat and the next.

As Nyx was pinned to the walling, she grunted and fought against the male. The punishment for the attempt to get free was an even greater pressure on her nape—and the muzzle of that gun pressed to her temple.

“You do not belong here.”

The voice was whisper-quiet and very, very deep. There was an accent to it as well, but she didn’t waste time trying to place it.

“Let me go,” she said tightly.

“How did you get in here?” There was the draw of an inhale. “And you killed one of them, didn’t you. I can smell the blood on you.”

Before she could calibrate a response, a soft, rhythmic sound registered in her ears.

“Damn it,” the male hissed.

And that was when her chaotic brain put a definition to that noise. Marching. There were a number of people marching in unison. And going by how the sound was getting louder, they were on the approach.

“Don’t make a sound,” the male voice ordered.

As the pressure eased up on her neck, Nyx did some quick math. Whoever this was had her weapons and considerable control over her—for the moment. But she didn’t think he was a guard. Which meant he was a better bet than those boots that were heading her way. Like she had a choice, though?

She looked over her shoulder at the male—

In the dim shadows, she couldn’t believe his eyes. Blue-green. They were brilliant, glowing blue-green eyes that reminded her of pictures she’d seen on TV of the tropical sea.

The rest of her first impression came in fast: Black hair pulled back. Big shoulders, tall body.

Lips that shouldn’t have even been on her notice list.

As he pulled her arm, she tripped, but regained her balance quick. He took her back the way she had come, the lights hanging from the ceiling going out as they approached and coming back on as they went by. And then he stopped short.

“Here,” he said softly.

There was a whirring sound, and then a different smell came to her nose. Before she could place it, she was pushed forward into a pitch-black space and the whirring came again.

“They’re going to kill you if they find you,” he whispered as they were closed in together. “Especially with the blood of one of their own on you.”

In the sensory void, his disembodied voice made everything feel like a dreamscape, and Nyx’s eyes strained against the darkness, even though there was no point. Meanwhile, outside wherever the hell they were, the sound of those multiple sets of boots hitting the hard ground in coordination grew louder.