Declan had difficulty maneuvering through the small crawlspace at first. But then it opened up into a maze of low-ceiling passageways where he could almost stand upright instead of scooting along hunched over. Four-legged creatures scurried in front of him and cobwebs stuck to the thin sheen of sweat covering his back and forehead. He pushed through them, forcing his mind to focus on what lay ahead and not behind.
But pictures of Anastasia, thoughts of her sweet lips and even softer body, plagued him. At the forefront of it all lay the hope she would not find herself outside in the fight he was barreling toward. That he would not be forced to fight her. Or worse, watch one of his kin sink their talons into her flesh. The thought sent him reeling. He didn't want to be forced to harm one of
