Page 23 of Fang & Fury

“Ailsa.”

Her chin jerked up.

Fern stood watching her, gray eyes narrowed.

“We need to get that collar and the shackles off you, Darach.” Fern motioned to the pincers that lay on the floor, where Ailsa had discarded them. She grimaced then. “I can’t touch them. One of you needs to do it.”

Darach moved forward and scooped up the tongs. “I’ll get rid of the shackles.”

The reek of him washed over Ailsa with him this close, and her nostrils pinched.

Shades. Where had they been keeping him?

That didn’t matter though. Not now. The fight had been fast and furious, but not silent.

Someone might have heard.

Now that she was herself once more, Ailsa was keenly aware of the danger they were in.

They had to get out of here.

Righting a stool, Darach sat down and started working away at the shackle on his right ankle. His strong hands flexed as he manipulated the iron jaws, removing the iron band in a few squeezes. Moments later, he removed the second shackle and passed the pincers to Ailsa.

She took them, their fingers brushing.

Her breathing caught at the contact; she couldn’t help it. Despite that this wasn’t the moment, memories of his touch barreled into her—the heat of his hands on her skin, the fierceness of their coupling.

Shaking the memories off, she stepped close, wedging the tool in between his neck and the collar and, teeth gritted, pushing the rough iron handles together.

Nothing happened.

Ailsa frowned and adjusted her grip before bearing down harder.

The iron groaned, but the collar held fast.

“Cods!”

Behind them, Fern stood rigid at the entrance, her head cocked. “Hurry.”

Ailsa tried again, every muscle in her arms straining.

The jaws slipped. The pincers jolted sideways, nearly pinching her fingers. “Curse it!”

Darach stayed perfectly still, although his jaw tightened.

Then came the muffled thud of footsteps in the hallway beyond the alcove.

Everyone froze.

“We’re out of time,” Fern hissed.

“Here,” Kayla said, appearing at Ailsa’s shoulder. “Together.” She gripped one handle while Ailsa seized the other. “One … two … now!”

Both women threw their weight onto the iron handles.

The collar gave with a sharp metallic crack, striking the floorboards with a thud.

Silence rushed in then, as Darach lifted his hand to his bare neck, rubbing the angry groove the iron had carved there. He then sucked in a deep, relieved breath.