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Keep going, I told myself. Just keep going. There had to be a stairwell somewhere.
A shout exploded from within a shrouded chamber, one filled with pain and terror, not pleasure.
I stopped, turning to my right. A cry sounded, weaker and shorter. Keep going. My chest clenched as I glanced back to where I’d come from. I had no idea where the guards were, but the sounds, the greedy slurping…
Damn it.
Some days, I hated myself. Prowling toward the gauzy black curtain, this was one of them.
Shoving the barrier aside, I scanned the dimly lit space. There were no couches or chairs in here, just mantels full of lit, half-melted candles and a mattress on the floor—one with rust-hued stains.
And it was not bare.
A dark-haired woman was on top of a man, her face buried in his throat. She wore a shapeless white gown or robe, but I could still see her body writhing beneath the cloth. Under her, the man was half-dressed, his skin nearly as white as his shredded robes. His frantic, darting gaze collided with mine.
His lips peeled back over tightly clenched teeth and then moved, forming one word I didn’t hear but felt to my very bones.
Help.
A different kind of instinct took hold as I rushed forward. The woman moaned deeply as the man beneath her jerked, his eyes squeezing shut so tightly the skin puckered at the corners. The woman was so caught up in what I figured was feeding that she was utterly unaware of me.
Reaching the side of the mattress, I grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked with all my strength.
I caught a glimpse of the jagged puncture wounds in the man’s neck as I shoved the woman to the side.
Her head snapped in my direction, lips peeling back to reveal two bloody canines smaller than what I saw on the gods and Primals, but still sharp. She growled at me, and it once more reminded me of Andreia. This woman didn’t have two fangs on the bottom row of her teeth, though, nor did she look…well, as dead as Andreia had.
My gaze flew to hers. Good gods, her eyes were pitch-black, so dark I couldn’t see her pupils.
They weren’t like a god’s or a mortal’s.
She moved quickly, getting into a crouched position, her knees jutting out from the sides of her gown.
I had a sick feeling that both of them were Chosen, but she was what Gemma had spoken of: the Chosen who went missing and returned hungry.
Because this bitch looked like she was starving.
Her head tilted to the side as she sniffed the air. “You smell…”
I frowned at the raspy, throaty voice.
“You smell of Revenant and god,” she purred, moving fluidly, much like a pit viper. She moaned, and thick lashes fanned her cheeks. “And something else. Stronger.”
“Thanks?” I murmured, keeping an eye on her as I moved closer to the man. He wasn’t moving. “I think.”
A soft hissing sound came from her before she pressed her hands to the waist of her gown. “I’m so hungry.”
“Uh-huh.” Keeping the sword level, I bent and touched the man’s neck, feeling for a pulse. I found one. It was weak but there.
The woman angled her body toward me as she ran her palms up her chest. “You smell…”
“You already said that.”
“Like life,” she whispered, her lashes lifting. Pitch-black eyes faintly lit from within fixed on me.
“What the—?”
The woman leapt at me, full-on jumped like a large feline.
