Wet Heat by Jan Springer Read Free Book Online

fought the urge to run toward the door.
    Instead, she begged to the vampire gods for help.
    Please don’t let him wake. Please let him stay asleep.
    Begging to the vampire gods was nothing new. It was a daily ritual. They rarely listened. Thankfully this time they did and the welcome sounds of snores once again sawed over her rattled nerves.
    Within seconds she found and put on her clothing. The wretched-smelling socks and the boots were ill fitting but necessary.
    A small glow of yellow light came through the keyhole of the dungeon door and she used that bit of light to quietly insert one key at a time. The torturer had several keys on the ring, and with each insertion she held her breath, hoping this one would turn in the lock.
    Her anguish at defeat grew. For many days she had heard the sound of the key grating in the keyhole. The sound had filled her with fear. Now, as she inserted the last key and heard the same grating sound, her hopes soared to new heights.
    The door creaked open as she gingerly pushed on the heavy oak. She remembered from her time being dragged here after her capture, no outer guard had been posted on the row upon row of cell doors. There still wasn’t any. Her hope of escape flourished and screamed through her unlike anything she’d ever felt before.
    Slipping into the dimly lit hallway, she locked the door behind her and grabbed a torch from a nearby holder. Proceeding down the narrow, damp stone passage, she listened for any unusual sounds and despite the continued danger, found herself smiling.
    Oh! If only she could be a fly on the cell wall when the torturer awoke and discovered her gone.
    Despite her wearing clothing and boots, the cold, damp air bit into her like icy daggers. But the cold sharpened her senses.
    The long narrow hallway was laced with wooden doors, the same type of door as the one that had held her inside a cell. Each door a way into another cell like hers. Each most likely holding a prisoner such as herself.
    Anguish screamed through her at the thought of leaving anyone down here to suffer the same fate as she. By the time she reached the end of the passageway, she knew she couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t at least check to see.
    But before she could investigate, she needed to open the final door, which she remembered would lead to the outside. This one would have to be unlocked before she could go in search of anyone to rescue. This one would be the door to freedom. She found the key easily enough, worked it into the hole, turned the key and pushed it open a crack.
    Cool, fresh air splashed against her and impulsively she pushed harder, opening it and gasping at the miraculous site of the huge, dark mountains towering over the cave. The Dolomites.
    Behind her she heard the weak groan of a male, the weeping of a female. Deep inside her, freedom fought with sympathy.
    Cursing herself for her weak sensitivities, she turned from freedom and found the first cell door to her right. Thrusting a random key from the ring of keys into the lock, she was surprised when the door opened.
    Inside, she discovered a disheveled male lying on a cot. He blinked at her in the stream of torchlight sailing through the doorway.
    “Come. We must escape,” she hissed in her fluent Italian, trying to keep her voice as low as possible in case any guards were lurking about.
    “Such a beautiful angel you are,” the male said in an Italian dialect she was not familiar with, but understood his words easily enough.
    Alas, the male didn’t move. Just blinked at her. His squinty eyes twinkling with amusement.
    “It must be a dream,” he grumbled. “A beautiful dream.”
    She tossed him the keys. They landed square on his bare chest.
    “It’s up to you to free the others. I must go. I must be free. Please understand,” she said to the ragged stranger, feeling the anxiety rushing through her with an insane speed.
    “Go child. Be free. I will take care of the others.”
    At his soft