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Instinctively, I lower my head to avoid the onslaught of falling ceiling, and Chase uses the opportunity to curl himself over me, protecting me the best he can.
“What the fuck? Chase, stop it!” I snap, pushing him off of me—but gently, keenly aware of the myriad of bruises and lacerations marring his golden skin. “You’re already hurt. We don’t want you to get even more…hurt.”
Ever the articulate one, Aliana.
Once again, Chase’s eyes narrow, and I wonder if it’s because I referred to him as Chase and not the Empty Man. I expect him to correct me, but he remains silent, though the blue of his eyes seems to find mine unerringly, even through the constant fall of plaster, homing in like two heat-seeking missiles.
“We’ll protect you no matter what, mistress,” Chase murmurs in a low, raspy voice that spirals heat through my stomach. The longing in his voice is tempered by steadfast determination.
Wait…
Mistress?
We?
What the fuck?
My heart skips like a smooth stone over tranquil waters.
“I don’t need your protection.” I begin to lead him forward once more, stumbling under his weight. “If you remember correctly, I’m the one who rescuedyou, not the other way around. So I suppose you’re the damsel in distress while I’m the knight in shining armor.”
I’m sure Chase—the real Chase, not this creature wearing his face—wouldlovethat. He always had an alpha, “I’m better than everyone” personality. He would be humiliated to know he got rescued by the likes of me.
The thought brings a fleeting, tentative smile to my lips. I try to squash it, but Chase sees it. I wonder if he’s watching my face as intently as I’m studying our surroundings. I swear I can feel his eyes penetrating my flesh in a way that’s almost physical.
“No one will hurt you again, Aliana.” His voice is low—a gentle caress that peppers my skin and elicits a fresh round of goose bumps. “Not even me.”
He seems to be trying to tell me something, something important, but now isn’t the time for heartfelt declarations or whispered promises. Not when the ground around us is rumbling like thunder, though we’re far underground.
We need to get out of here. Fast.
So even though it feels like an invasion of tiny drummers has taken over my head, I shove his words aside and focus on the matter at hand.
“Yup. Cool. Awesome,” I say half-heartedly as I continue to drag him along. “But we can discuss all of this after we make it to safety, okay?” And then, under my breath, I add, “Since when did you become so talkative? Goddamn. I miss Tesq’s grumpiness sometimes.”
Once again, Chase opens his mouth as if to speak but immediately snaps it closed. Terror floods his eyes, and the emotion is reciprocated in the tiny spikes that seem to be piercing my very soul.
Around us, the walls and floor shake, and I struggle to remain upright, to orient myself to my rapidly shifting surroundings. I wobble precariously to the side and lose my grip around Chase’s shoulder. He falls to the ground beside me with an audible thump. I lunge for him, but before my fingers can make contact with his, something breaks through the floor in front of me like a flower bursting from the ground.
Only this flower has pink, slimy skin, fathomless black eyes, and a mouthful of teeth, each one the size of my head.
A thousand blades become lodged in my throat as I scramble backwards, crab walking away as fast as I physically can.
Then, the sandworm opens its gaping maw, its attention fixed solely on me, and roars.
5
ALIANA
My chest isready to explode from the panic building inside of it, but after so many years of raids in the city, I use my muscle memory and force myself to think through the chaos, push myself to fight. My hands move for my weapons, and I manage to jab a tiny thought through the surging waves of adrenaline and make myself remember that pouch of jewels.
I just need enough time to reach down, open the pouch, and throw one?—
The fucking beast pours its body into the room, smacking into the ceiling with a resounding crack and then denting the floor as it undulates and its rows of teeth snap at me. It’s two feet away and then just inches—in seconds.
Shit.
No time. There’s no time for anything but blocking my face, and my arms shoot back up on instinct even as my brain screams that the movement will only ensure I get bitten into pieces instead of swallowed whole.
