Free The Wolf's Captive by Chloe Cox Page A

Father Ash briefly nod his assent, approving their entry to…an empty tomb? What would he have done if they hadn’t been on the apparently very exclusive list? Lucia was about to let her natural sarcasm loose, as she so often did, when Paolo effortlessly pushed aside the stone top of the sarcophagus. It rolled, as if on bearings, and beneath it rough-hewn stairs stretched down into the darkness.
    The catacombs , Lucia thought. Those were reserved for the old, moneyed families who had paid for secret tunnels eons ago, and the tight guilds of thieves who’d figured out ways to sneak in, and for a few wily people in the know. Anyone else would get hopelessly lost down there. But Paolo didn’t even think twice. He was halfway down when he remembered to check for Lucia. After that, he held her hand the whole way.
    Please let it not be so bad , she silently begged the universe. Please let this work. Please let him help us.
    Vials of the glowing white liquid derived from jellyfish hung from the low ceiling at interminable lengths, lighting the tunnel just enough that you’d be sure something was watching you just out of sight, if you had that kind of mind. Lucia had that kind of mind. Worse was the darkness, the mystery, even Paolo’s hot, insistent hand covering hers…she fought the wave of feeling, and pushed aside thoughts of Lord Cesare. She was only torturing herself now. She would close her eyes and do what she had to do, which was, she had come to believe, to give Paolo whatever he wanted, somewhere deep below the city, and beg him to help her father. There would be no oscario here. There would be no Lord Cesare.
    Maybe it would be easier, in a way. Part of her was even relieved. If she were bound to a man who couldn’t arouse much in her, maybe in time she’d quell those dark desires entirely. He would never possess her fully, not the way Lord Cesare threatened to. It would be a dull life—at best, she reminded herself, at worst didn’t bear thinking about—but at least she would retain some semblance of self. At least she wouldn’t have to face those parts of her that threatened her pride. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about Paolo seeing her for who she really was, and turning away.
    And she would have fulfilled her promise. Her family would be secure. She felt guilty for not feeling happier about that.
    The music, a soft beat overlaid with thrumming strings, grew louder, and Lucia thought she could perceive the glow of torchlight around a corner. She was about to speak when Paolo turned and pressed her to the stone.
    “Just once,” he muttered, and he kissed her, one arm pinning her to the wall, the other snaking downward. He yanked her dress up and pushed his hand between her legs, dipping briefly into the wetness there. And then he pulled away from her. Even in the dull light, he looked furious.
    Lucia held her breath. It had been so quick, and then it had been over even more quickly. She had no idea what was happening.
    “Follow me,” he said abruptly, and turned the corner.
    Dazed, she followed.
    Lucia didn’t have time to wonder what any of it meant; now she was preoccupied with where he was taking her, and why. She had been right: it was torchlight. They were in a large cavern, large enough that the smoke from the torches wasn’t oppressive. At the other end of the cavern was a very old door, nestled in a carved recess in the rock. In front of that door was one of the largest men Lucia had ever seen. He wore black leather and the red armband of the Severille, and the huge, horned mask of a bull. He didn’t seem to care much about their presence, which was a relief. Even Paolo seemed intimidated, though he dragged Lucia forward.
    “Paolo Ramora,” he said, his voice catching at the end. “I’m expected. With guest.”
    Slowly the Bull angled his head down in Paolo’s direction. Only his neck moved.
    “Find the Rooster,” the Bull said, and stepped aside.
    What on earth did that mean?