Dante curls his fingers into his palms at his side, his muscles rippling with the movements. It’s the first time I notice the half-sleeve tattoo of snakeskin decorating his bicep on the side with his missing sleeve. I can’t take my eyes away from the mesmerizing pattern, sheening with gold on the scales, as he glowers at me in silence like he doesn’t know what to do besides gawk at me.
“Dante, please. You said it yourself that you were pissed that Joel just abandoned me to die and you didn’t want to clean up his mess. You don’t have to. I can handle myself,” I say, keeping my voice low to keep it from shaking. “Please. You can just forget about me.”
He grumbles under his breath. “Why do mortals always beg when they think they’re going to die? It’s pointless. If you fucking say please one more time—”
The world rumbles around us, the strange vibrations dancing across my skin. It kicks my heart into overdrive. I grab a hold of the rack again and hoist myself up, taking advantage of the fact that Dante shifts to look at the door.
Scooping up the bottle of shampoo, I clutch it in my hand. It’s not exactly my weapon of choice, not that I know how to use anything in particular, but I’ve been using what I’ve been given my whole life. I can’t exactly kill a monster with tea-tree and mint soap, but damn it if I won’t try anyway.
The soft rumbling shaking the room turns more frantic, and I nearly lose my footing at the floor quaking. Dante still keeps his back toward me, staring at the door, and I half expect him to leave.
Untwisting the cap, I squeeze shampoo into my palm and whisper a quiet prayer that this works.
Dante jerks around like he can sense what I’m about to do. I scream and chuck the bottle of shampoo at him, clocking him in the chest. It does nothing to stop him from rushing me. I try to swing my hand out to slap the soap into his eyes, but he catches my wrist. Yanking my hand over my head, he forces me to wipe the shampoo on my hair before flicking on the faucet. Cool water sprays on me, shocking me. I scream and fight, slipping on the soap I spilled everywhere. I land on my back, the air knocking from my lungs.
Fangs flash from beneath Dante’s lips and he strikes his hand forward, lacing it around my neck to pin me to the tub. “Get cleaned up, pretty broken soul. You can wear the robe hanging on the door. If you pray again, it will be the last thing you ever do, and not one fucking savior will hear. Got it?”
My bottom lip trembles as I nod my head.
“Good. Now be an obedient little mortal, and you might get something you want in return. Lucian is coming. He will decide your worth.” Dante releases my neck and adjusts the water temperature, changing it from cold to warm with a flick of his fingers. Turning his back on me, he exits the bathroom and slams the door shut behind him.
I lie frozen and in shock, my whole body begging me to rest and catch my breath. Because if I get up now, I’ll fall back down. My adrenaline washes away with the blood, tears, and sweat, leaving me a sobbing mess. I don’t understand what’s going on and who these men are—what these men are—but I’m not even sure I want to know. I just want to leave and spend my last twenty bucks getting anywhere else in the world.
If a deep, guttural roar didn’t filter through the door, I would. The lights flicker and the awful smell of something rotting wafts through the air. Strange black smoke trickles from beneath the door. I panic at the sight and force myself to get up. There’s a fire somewhere, and I didn’t go through complete hell just to die in this dark bathroom with two psycho monsters plotting my imprisonment.
Without drying off, I rush to the door and press my hand to the wood, feeling the warmth radiating from the other side. I run the basic survival skills my parents instilled in me growing up and grab a towel, wetting it in the sink. I cover my mouth and nose with it and use the other end to cover the doorknob in case it’s hot.
I try to twist it open, but nothing happens.
The smoke grows thicker in the bathroom, and an orange and red glow fills the room.
“Help!” I yell, pounding my fist on the door. “Help!”
No one responds.
I’m locked in.
There’s nothing I can do as I wait for my world to burn.
Chapter 3
Monsters and Madness
RAVEN
I COUGH AND spit into the towel, trying to rid my lungs of the billowing smoke. Heat radiates from the door, and I scramble back, climbing into the tub. Twisting the knob on the faucet, I adjust the temperature as if a cold shower could possibly save me. Even if the fire doesn’t eat away this room, the smoke will suffocate me.
I lower myself down and clutch the drenched towel, covering up with it the best I can. I’ve always had a fear of burning alive after one of my childhood next-door neighbor’s houses burned down, but I never truly believed something like that would happen to me. I was just afraid it would.
And now it is.
Closing my eyes, I lace my fingers together and tilt my head toward the ceiling. I’ve never prayed more than I have tonight in my life, and a part of me fears speaking to the universe, hoping that some almighty power might listen and help me, because of Dante’s threat. He’s made it quite clear that he’s not human. Even if he hadn’t, a deep-seated part of me knows that the two guys are far from mortals. What they are exactly? I have no idea. I doubt I’ll ever find out.
An explosion shakes the room, and I scream and clutch onto the tub as the walls around me split and open. Fire eats away the walls of this small bathroom and drifts across the ceiling. Smoke and red and orange light fill the room and I kick my heel on the drain plug, pushing it into place. Water begins to fill the tub. Scooping it into my hands, I fling it at the walls, hoping to put the flames out before they reach me. My chest tightens with each of my breaths, and I try my best to breathe slowly instead of gulping for air that’ll only be tainted by the smoldering room.
I blink through the haze, staring at the fiery ceiling. Soft chants call my name, inviting me to join them in the burning world appearing above my head but looking as if I look down on it instead of looking up. It’s disorienting and terrifying. I can’t process what I’m seeing. Fear clenches my heart, and I squeeze my eyes shut, so I can pretend to be somewhere else. I’m hallucinating, seeing the vision of the damned and burning. The smoke’s getting to my head.
“Hurry up, pretty soul,” Dante snaps, the door creaking open. “You should’ve been done by now.”
I bolt upright and splash water everywhere, the bathroom empty and clean with no signs of fire or smoke anywhere. What the fucking shit? I scramble to pull myself from the blood-tinted tub and roll over the edge, crashing to the floor. I gasp and feel across the floor, the heat that was clinging to the air nothing more than the steamy warmth of the still-running shower.
“Fuck,” he says, clomping into the bathroom. Stepping over me, Dante turns the shower off and pulls the plug, draining the tub before more water cascades over the edge. “What the hell are you doing? We don’t have time for you to take a damn spa day.”
“There was a fire,” I say, groaning with my confusion, my thoughts refusing to let me think clearly. “I was going to burn alive. Why did you lock me in here?”
Dante’s brows lower on his forehead, and he combs his hand through his dark hair. “You saw the gateway.” Surprise lines his words. He remains expressionless as he studies me like I will confirm he’s right about whatever he’s referring to.