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It's more than fascinating. It's strangely satisfying in a way violence hasn't been for me in quite a long time.
When the infernati rips himself away from me with a screech, I rotate around, my body bobbing on legs of magma that don't turn with me. My torso twists, but my legs simply ooze and reform in the opposite direction. The backs of my knees jut forward and resettle as kneecaps, and my feet flow through my ankle from one side to the other.
Even though pain screams in every nerve ending, the fury whipping my chest into a cyclone drowns discomfort out. I am vengeance, and death flows freely through me.
Smiling at the panicked monster when his eyes balloon in shock, I lift my arm. A second later, his mouth pops open when I gouge a steaming hole right through his stomach. He sucks in a trembling breath, and when I pull my hand back, his pulsing heart clutched in my fist, he collapses to the ground, his bulging gaze flat and unseeing.
I shake strands of his guts from my fingertips as I slide right over him, not bothering to walk around. His last consciousmoments should be terrible, mortifying, and full of anguish. It's what he deserves for being part of this uprising.
Not bothering to chase Mishika yet, because I want her cowering in fear, doubling back on her trail, nervousness driving her mad, I decide to return to the others.
I'm going to prioritize my sweet mate, the only woman to ever kiss me without fear, to ever love me without reservation, to ever want me for who I am.
Moving back down the hall to the main room, I go in search of Dev and Creep. They need to know that Aliana's a target after all, and it will be easier for us to do a sweep of the building together—if only so we don't have to waste precious time fighting monsters one-on-one. If we work together—a feat we've hardly ever managed because Empty or Dev are typically taking opposing approaches, each one utterly convinced they're right—then I believe we can blast through the bastards around us quite easily.
Determination emanates from me, rolling off in waves nearly as opaque as the rippling vapor in the air around me as I march forward. Slosh forward, more like. Though I've killed the infernati, the heat inside of me still rages on, perhaps fueled by my own anger and anxious need to lay eyes on Aliana again. I remain molten.
I have no idea how long it's been since we rushed into this place at dawn, but my intuition is telling me that my separation from my mate is dangerous. Anxiety gnaws at my esophagus. Another monster could be eating Aliana right this second, his mouth consuming her?—
2
ALIANA
From his pronespot on the ground, Chase surges forward, recapturing my mouth as I kneel over him. His lips are warm against my own.
Soft. Tentative. A mockery of a true kiss.
It’s one of those fleeting touches that’s over almost as soon as it begins, yet it sends my mind into a tailspin. Explosions detonate all throughout my body, though I’m not quite sure if they’re the good or bad kind.
Because Chase…the Empty Man…the monster who once tried to kill me…
He just kissed me.
The heat of his breath teases my lips yet again a second before his mouth slants over mine. A part of me wants to open myself to him, to prod at the seam of his warm lips with my tongue, but I hold myself perfectly still. My heart thunders like a war drum in my chest, and though one of my arms automatically reaches out to cradle his head because he’s injured, I don’t know what to think.
The tears smearing my vision at the shock of finding him alive clear as I blink dazedly down at him.
“Aliana…” His voice sounds like Chase’s, though it’s devoid of the usual cocky arrogance I’ve come to expect from my rival. He pulls away just enough to stare up into my eyes.
Who exactly am I looking at?
I take in his greasy blond hair, hanging limp around his chiseled face and caked with blood, and the myriad of bruises and scars decorating his skin. Pain etches across his features, though he tries to hide it. However, there’s no denying that his once tall and imposing figure is one gust of wind away from crumbling down.
“Chase? Em?” I whisper.
“Yes.” His succinct reply has my brain spinning.
Yes to being Chase? Or yes to being Em?
His warm hand comes up to cup my cheek, the calluses on his fingertips reminding me of sandpaper. Except…he’s missing a finger. The stark reality of that makes bile spiral up inside my throat, though I swallow it down. That pain is probably the least of what he’s had to endure down here.
“I was always told the best things in life hurt the most,” the Chase/Em monster whispers almost reverently. “But isn’t that the best type of happily ever after? One that is paved in agony?”
I shake my head once in an attempt to disperse the cobwebs infesting it. I need to focus on the mission at hand—-and that means getting the hell out of here. We’re underground in a room with a tiny barred window a cat could hardly squish through andonly one exit that I’m aware of—a strategic disaster for escape if I’ve ever heard of one.
Above us, a turquoise spider monster with the head of a deer twitches in its death throes as it bleeds out from the leg I ripped off.
That blood is going to attract hungry teeth.
