Warrior's Hope (Dark Protectors #16)

“You’ll mate me regardless.” Drake turned, opened the door, and shut it. She instantly ran for it and yanked the heavy wood open to find two Kurjan soldiers across the way. A quick glance down the hallway confirmed more sentries. They must have waited to take position until Drake had brought her to the room.

She was a trained fighter, but she wasn’t that good, and she was still off. She slammed the door and quickly searched the room for anything that could be used as a weapon. There was nothing. Shoving away her headache for now, she stomped into the closet to find several gorgeous gowns with diamonds, rubies, and emeralds sewn onto them.

Lined up beneath the dresses were sparkly, delicate flats and heels, nothing that would make good fighting footwear. A dresser at the far end of the closet revealed piles and piles of lingerie, from sweet to sexy. There was absolutely nothing she could use for a weapon. In the attached bath, she again found feminine supplies, makeup, perfume, and lotions. No weapon.

A knock sounded on the door, and she hustled to the window to look out. She was on the second story, but she could make it out. However, her room faced that center courtyard, and she could see soldiers posted everywhere. Pax still wasn’t moving in the cage, and her heart stuttered. Movement caught her eye to the left, and she leaned to see a Kurjan soldier stationed on the roof. The minute she stepped out there, he’d see her.

The knock came again, and then the door opened. Two women walked inside. One met her stare boldly, and the second looked down. Hope looked back at them. “Hello?”

“Hi,” the bolder one said. “We’re supposed to help you put on a dress.”

Hope held up a hand to ward her off. “I don’t need help putting on a dress.”

The woman threw up her hands. “Good. Well, that’s something.”

Hope chuckled, even though she wanted to scream. “I’m Hope.”

“Oh. I’m Lyrica,” the woman said. She stood to about five six and was very curvy. Her dark hair was secured in an elaborate braid, and she had sparkling, light brown eyes. She glanced beyond Hope and gasped. “Oh, check out all the sparkles.” She rushed into the closet. “These are gorgeous.” She held up a pair of Manolo Blahniks, complete with sparkling square.

“I’d rather it was a weapon,” Hope said slowly.

Lyrica looked toward her, her gaze hardening. “Yeah, me too. Can’t really stab anybody with a Manolo, though.”

“We might have to try,” Hope said grimly. “Who are you?” she softly asked the other woman.

The woman shrugged.

Lyrica shook her head. “She’s kind of traumatized after being kidnapped and finding out how evil our captors are. She got into an argument with one of the Cyst generals her first day here, and he beat her up pretty bad. Her name is Genevieve.”

“Hi, Genevieve. I’m Hope. I’m going to help you get out of here.”

Genevieve’s head came up, and her eyes widened. They were a pretty bluish green, more blue than green. She had to be about nineteen, and her hands trembled when she clasped them together. “There’s no way to get out of here. I’ve looked,” she said softly.

“I’m looking too,” Lyrica said. “I almost made it the other night, but those soldiers are everywhere, and they vary their patrols so there’s no set pattern. I’m a mathematician. I study patterns.” She looked again at all the sparkly dresses and shoes. “And shoes. I’m all about the shoes.”

It was good to find allies so quickly. “When we get out of here, you can take those with you,” Hope offered.

Lyrica snorted. “I don’t care about them that much. I just want freedom.” She had to be in her early thirties.

“Are you both enhanced females?” Hope could tell with Lyrica, but she wasn’t entirely sure about Genevieve.

“Unfortunately,” Lyrica said grimly.

Hope could understand the sentiment. “Yeah, you and me both.” She doubted the three of them could take on the guards outside. She had a better chance escaping from Drake. How could he do this? What exactly was his grand plan? Her brain still felt sluggish from teleporting. “I have to ask you. Have you seen a couple of sisters from Paris? Natalie and Annette Toussaint?”

“Yep,” Lyrica said. “They’re here, and I’ve been learning French. It gets a little boring just cooking and cleaning. They’re tough and will stand with us if we make an escape.”

Relief filtered through Hope. Good. At least they were alive, and now she knew where they were located. “I’m glad they’re okay.”

“So you’re going to be queen, huh?” Lyrica asked. “That kind of sucks.”

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