He wanted to touch her, but he was afraid he’d frighten her. He still felt shame at the memory of what he’d done. Knowing he’d probably saved her from death, or worse, didn’t soothe his guilt. He’d taken pleasure from the act. What kind of depraved soul was he?
Was that why she cried? Reliving what he’d done or what had happened after they’d taken her away? She wasn’t the crying sort. He’d known brave women—his mother was brave—but this one acted with boldness and strength he’d never seen in a woman. His mother? He got a glimpse of a fair-haired woman, but it vanished like a wisp of smoke.
Anna let out a small sob. He moved a bit closer and stroked her cheek. She turned toward his hand, and his heart flipped a few times before stilling in his chest.
“Don’t,” she whimpered.
What had they done to her? Or was it him she dreamed of? He must be the reason for at least some of her tears, and he reckoned that made it his duty to soothe her. He bunched the covers between them, creating a wall of sorts, and then held her closer, stroking her back through the bedding. He would get her out of this place and back to her family. To her friends that she’d told him about. To safety. That would be his mission from here on out. To right the wrong he’d done to her. How can you undo something like that, you bloody bastard?
He didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud, but Anna jerked awake and bolted from the bed.
The prisoner’s jaw dropped. Anna looked down and gasped, then put her hands over her female parts. Damnation. Before he could drag his eyes away, she jumped back underneath the covers as quickly as she’d left them. “I’m naked.”
“Aye.” And the sight would forever be burned into his mind.
She looked at his bare chest. “You too?”
“Someone took our clothes.”
“And moved us,” Anna said, looking around the room. “Where are we?”
“I don’t know. The last thing I remember is the guard bringing you back to the cell. You were unconscious. Are you hurt?”
She frowned. “I don’t think so.”
“What did they do to you?”
The two delicate lines deepened in her forehead. “I don’t know. I remember the guard opening a door. It was dark inside. I saw someone…I remember a roar.” Her eyes grew wide, the color startlingly beautiful. “The hybrid. I think the hybrid was there.”
A cold hand squeezed the prisoner’s guts. The hybrid. The one they’d referred to as a monster. In a place with a breeding plan? What had they done to her? She hadn’t been tortured. That quick glance at her body had told him she was uninjured. On the outside anyway, but some injuries didn’t easily show. “You don’t recall anything?”
She shook her head.
He recalled how bravely she’d fought against the guard. Something must have happened. Why take her away and do nothing to her? Had she blocked it? “Perhaps they’ve taken your memories too.”
“Lance gave me a shot. The drug must have made me forget what happened. But I do remember Tristol.” She looked like she wanted to jump up. “I can’t believe he’s here, right under our noses. I have to go back and warn the clan.”
“You know him?” The odd thing was that he felt he did too.
“Every warrior knows Tristol. He’s a demon. A powerful demon.”
“Demon.” As he repeated the word, a memory struck him so hard he felt as if he’d been kicked in the head by a horse.
The man’s skin thickened, the bones lengthening, not human. Then a child screamed. He knew the child. Was it his?
He rubbed his head.
“What’s wrong?” Anna asked.
“My head. What do you mean, a demon?” More flashes. Ugly faces and sharp teeth.
“Humans aren’t the only creatures on this earth that walk upright. Demons disguise themselves as humans, but they’re trying to destroy us. That’s where warriors come in. They protect humans by destroying demons or locking them away. And I’m almost certain you’re a warrior.” Anna touched his chest, running her fingers over the marks there. They were tingling. “These tattoos on your chest. Do you remember getting them?”
His hand immediately went to his chest, and his fingers brushed against hers. “No.”
“Did you have a talisman, a necklace, when you came here?”
His hand moved higher. He didn’t feel anything, but he imagined something warm there. Something metal. “I think so. I’m not certain.”
“You touched your neck when I mentioned a talisman. I think your brain is trying to remember.”
“You think I’m a warrior?”
“Everything about you says you are. These marks on your chest. I’m sure they’re battle marks. Each warrior is marked according to his weaknesses and strengths. Most males have them on their chest. Mine are on my lower back.”
“Yours? You’re a warrior? A lass?” In spite of his throbbing head, he gave her an indulgent smile. The trauma of this place must have gotten to her.
Anna’s shoulders straightened. Her beautiful eyes were fierce. “I’m a warrior.”
“You’re not a…prostitute?”
“What?” She gaped at him.
“I thought…your dress, it was…short.”
“No, I’m not a prostitute.” If she spoke the truth, and he believed she did, she should have been more offended. As it was, she looked intrigued, as if she’d solved a mystery. “I’m from Clan Connor.”
He struggled to catch his next breath. “Connor?”
Her eyes narrowed, making them look like slivers of jewels. “Do you know the name?”
“I don’t know.” But his head felt like it would split down the middle. “How could I be one of these warriors and not remember such a thing?”
“It’s amazing that you’re not a vegetable after all they’ve done to you. All the drugs and beatings. After we get out of here, I’ll take you to a doctor I know. Maybe that’ll help us find out who you are.”
It gave him a warm feeling that she had said us after all she’d suffered at his hands. “I’m sorry for everything.”
“If you apologize again, I’m going to hit you.” She stared at him, her face fierce.
While he was trying to figure out what to possibly say, she looked around the room. “We have to figure out where we are.”
“It’s a sight better than that dungeon. It looks like a tower.” The room was round, with stone floors covered by plush rugs that must have cost a fortune. The bed they were in was a four-poster. The comforter was a rich brocade like he’d seen once in a palace in India. India? Another memory? Tapestries and sconces hung on the walls, while ornate tables and chairs decorated the room.
“I don’t care if it’s the White House. I want away from this place,” Anna said.
He didn’t know what a white house was, but he was all for leaving too. “Got any fig leaves? I’ve broken out of towers before, but never naked—damnation, I think I remembered something else. A castle…and screams.” He was so encouraged by the glimpse, he started to get up, but stopped when he saw her eyes widen. “We can’t stay under the covers forever. There’s got to be something in here we can wear. I’m going to see what I can find.” He slipped out of bed, holding a pillow over his groin. He walked around the room, looking for anything that might be used for clothing, taking care to keep his arse turned away from her. He must have failed because in a minute she cleared her throat.
“You need another pillow,” she said.
He glanced back at her and saw her quickly look away. “Or you could just close your eyes.”
She snorted. Snorted?
Did all female warriors make such rude sounds? Though she looked very bonny when she did it. He was relieved she was acting more like the brave, bold woman he’d seen when she’d first arrived. Not the one who’d looked haunted and broken. He didn’t particularly like bold women, but it was the lesser of two evils. “Why would they move us from the dungeon to a tower?” He opened another drawer and found it empty. “And why did they take our clothes?”