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Chapter sixteen
TORY
AllIcouldthink about was the pain. It radiated through me, making it difficult to focus on anything else. Everything hurt so badly. The wound in my side burned, my muscles ached, and I felt bruised and battered all over. I could feel stones and rubble beneath me and more covering my legs and one of my arms. I tried to pull my arm free, and the stones thankfully fell away, but there was a sharp pain in my wrist that intensified as soon as I tried to move my hand, and I gasped, letting it fall back to the hard ground. I could see nothing except pitch-black darkness around me, and panic bubbled up inside and spilled over.
“West! West!” I screamed into the dark. “West!” The effort left me gasping for breath, and even though I couldn’t see, my head swam, and I felt dizzy.
“I’m here, I’m here.” West’s voice croaked out of the darkness somewhere to my left, and tears ran down my face in sheer relief. I wasn’t alone down here. I heard movement, and his hand took mine. It was warm, but as he moved slightly, the pain in my wrist exploded, and I cried out.
He froze. “What’s wrong? Are you badly hurt, my lady? Tell me.”
“I...” The word came out as a sob, and I sucked my breath in and tried again. “My wrist, I think it’s broken, but everything else is just bruised. What happened?”
“The floor collapsed,” Zayn answered grimly, his voice coming from my right. “Are you intact, West?”
“More or less,” came the gruff response. “You?”
“Bit of a headache,” Zayn replied.
“Where’s Wesley?” I asked, using my good hand to try and push myself into a sitting position. It was a bad idea. My head spun, and I felt extremely sick. I lowered myself back down again. As uncomfortable as it was lying on a pile of rubble, moving was a lot worse.
“I’m here.” Wesley’s voice came from a little farther away. “Still alive.”
“Your headlight working, Zayn?” West asked. He let go of my hand and stood up.
“Nope, completely smashed.”
“Wesley?” There was a fumbling noise, and then a beam of light arced out over collapsed boulders and piles of rubble. I caught a glimpse of West and Zayn standing next to me. Zayn had blood running freely from his temple, and my mouth watered at the sight of it despite the concern that welled up for him. He clearly had a head injury, and we were trapped down here. The light suddenly fizzled and gave out, plunging us back into darkness. I swallowed, trying not to spill tears that really wouldn’t help anyone.
“Where are we, Wes?” West queried.
“My guess would be the earlier tombs from way back when temple construction began. The wrappings appear to be from around 2500 BCE.”
“Wrappings?” I asked sharply. “What wrappings?”
“Well, these ones,” Wesley replied.
“Lady Victoria, can you still see?” West enquired, interrupting him.
“No, nothing, it’s just... pitch-black.”
“Fuck,” he muttered.
“That’s not good,” I heard Zayn say quietly.
“I can still hear you,” I snapped.
“Good,” he replied. “Then do as I say. Shut up and open your mouth.”
“What?” I asked, confused. The most delicious spiced scent filled the air, and I felt something press against my lips. Moments later, the taste of Zayn’s blood filled my mouth, and I brought my non-injured hand up to grip his arm, holding it in place as I sank my sharpening teeth into his skin. I marvelled at how different he tasted, like spices and honey, rich and exotic. The thick liquid ran down my throat, and my body screamed for more. My back arched up off the floor, and I knew it was seeking his. The desire that came with the blood consumed me, and I was craving his touch. He stayed back out of reach though, and I growled my displeasure, even as his blood flooded through my veins.
“West, holy... West!” Wesley’s panicked voice sounded through the dark.
“What?”
“The dead... They are moving!”
That was enough to snap me out of my blood-induced haze, and I tore my mouth from Zayn’s wrist. He scrambled to his feet, but the drink had been enough, and I saw grey outlines slowly swim into focus, the gaping hole above us, and the chamber I now lay in covered in rubble. The walls were stone and had long cavities chiselled into them four high. They stretched away into the darkness at the end of the room, and the majority of them were filled with bodies wrapped in linen—mummies. I now knew what Wesley had meant about the wrappings, and I really wish I’d been left in the dark—literally.
