Page 171 of Sinful Lord

Rian and Tytus.

Their lives have been filled with death and hate and revenge. And I haven’t done anything to rid them of those burdens. When I sent that email to my brother, did I doom them both to repeat that cycle with each other?

… Or did I just doom myself?

No. Only positive thoughts, I order myself. Rian’s coming. My email will help lead him in the right direction. Somehow. And even if he doesn’t make it, Tytus will.

Tytus.

My pounding heart clenches at the thought of my monster. My captor.

My lover.

Somehow, thinking of him helps calm me, if even just a little. I let myself sink into his warm, comforting memory.

My flexed jaw relaxes as I imagine resting my head against his warm chest. My trembling limbs rest as I remember how tightly he holds me.

He’s saved me from this evil once before. He can do it again.

He has to.

Finally, I’m able to take a deep breath. The stench of death and misery is still there, but so is a new scent. An arctic-like musk that drags me back to the moment we first met, in the shadows of the home from which he helped me escape.

I live in that moment for as long I can.

Who could have guessed how far we’d come?

… Or how badly we would have screwed it all up.

How badly I screwed it all up.

“Which limb shall I start with?”

Krol’s gargling voice rips through my peaceful vision, dragging back into the horrifying present. I try not to look up—in my last moments, I want to remember things that make me happy—but my brain won’t listen.

Tytus vanishes. My eyelids flutter open. Krol appears in his place.

But to my surprise, the half-dead demon doesn’t quite look as scary as before. Compared to Tytus, he just seems pathetic.

Unfortunately, I’m no better.

“Fuck you!” I croak, straining my throat just to make sure my burst of courage doesn’t fall short.

But Krol just twists his charred lips into that mangled snarl again. He wants to smile so badly, he just can’t manage it.

“That can be—”

Before he can finish, a sound snap his attention away from me.

A knock.

Then another.

My withering heart fills my throat.

For the first time since Krol dragged me from the lake house, I feel a pinpoint of hope.

Someone’s here.