For me.
Poisonous lips.
“They’ve left us alone to consummate before the Gods.”
Frowning, I follow the direction he’s pointing.
All the breath leaves my lungs, the sight making me feel like something just shoved its arm down my throat, gripped my guts, and tore them free.
Oh my …
No.
No-no-no …
The beautiful, happy woman I led across the stepping stones is nailed to one of the spires, blood spilling down her naked body, her chest cleaved with special instruments that bare her vacant cavity.
She’s still, like a broken doll pinned against the wall, and …
She’swatchingme.
But her eyes don’t appear like they did before. The now-golden orbs dazzle in the moonlight like blazing suns. Just looking at them makes me want to scrunch my lids and hide from the radiant glare.
I wrestle the urge to vomit and rip my stare from the sight. Look to the next.
Regret it instantly.
Another woman—this one with shorter hair and more voluptuous curves—is presented in the same macabre way. Her wide,seeingeyes are like fog caught in a ball, swirling so fast they make my head spin.
My blood curdles, heart pounding hard to slush it through my veins as I close my eyes and breathe …
Breathe …
What the fuck is this?
What.
The.
Fuck.
My morbid curiosity gnaws through its chains and takes another bite of the scene.
Blood-red irises and black, slitted pupils stare out at me from the next unlucky victim of this mass slaying—a thin man with long hair and spindly hands hammered to the stone. But those eyes are anything but dead, and they’re looking at me like I’mprey;a piercing stare that makes it feel as though there’s something wrapped around my throat.
Tightening.
That voice inside screams for me torun.
Another icy trail breezes across my lips. A phantom touch—so safe and familiar I want to lean into it. To tuck beneath it and hidefrom this living nightmare.
I look over Cainon’s shoulder to a broad man tacked to the stone, his head pinned upright by nails hammered beside his ears. His ribs are splayed, baring another chest cavity. No heart, lungs, intestines.
Empty.
But hiseyes—they’re a swirl of quicksilver sprinkled with stars that would bring me to my knees if I weren’t already here.
They’re the opposite to the hollow insides, churning with so much violence the waves ripple through the space between us, splashing against my chest to the beat of my thundering heart.
