Page 115 of Endless Terrors
I hated Belanor Dondarte. I hated him more than I’d ever hated anything. The feeling was all-consuming, like Gil’s bloodlust. My gaze went to the table of torture tools, which was pushed against one of the walls. Feeling Heilel’s eyes on me, I went over to it and looked over the selection carefully. After a minute, I chose a knife with the most jagged, painful-looking blade.
I returned to my place in front of Belanor, who continued to hang there without making a sound. My fingers curled around the hilt, and I was shaking.
“Remember,” Heilel said suddenly, his voice harsh in the stark silence of the cell. “If you kill him here, in my dimension, that is the end. He will cease to exist.”
I understood what he was trying to tell me. If I did this, I wouldn’t just be killing Belanor—I’d be obliterating him from existence. There would be no other dimensions for him, no chance for his soul to wander. Heilel was giving me all of the information before I made a choice.
Exactly like last time, I just stood there. And looked, and looked, and looked. The longer I hesitated, the more I could hear Collith in my head, breaking through the rage and pain like a beam of light on a dark night. Choose mercy, Fortuna.
Fuck. My shoulders sagged. Belanor wasn’t the only one I hated. Sometimes I hated Collith Sylvyre, too. Apparently it didn’t change the fact that I also respected him, or that his opinion meant something to me. My hold loosened on the knife, and after another moment, I put it back on the table.
I was about to turn away when Belanor said, his voice halting and tight with pain, “I would do it all … over again.”
I faced the faerie slowly, but I kept my eyes downward. I knew he was goading me. Belanor wanted to die after everything he’d endured in this cell. Killing him would be the real mercy.
Except … no one said it had to be a quick death.
This was Hell. Here, there were no rules. No such thing as good or bad. Right or wrong. I raised my gaze slowly. As I stared at the monster chained to the wall, it felt like I could hear the darkness calling my name. This time, I didn’t turn away.
I answered it.
I picked up the knife again and stepped forward. I looked into Belanor’s eyes, and I saw his defiance give way to fear as I brought my arm up. “Wait—” he started frantically.
Blood splattered my face.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
A fire crackled in the grate.
I rested on my side, one hand tucked beneath my cheek. Heilel slept beside me, light flickering over half of his perfect face. His breathing was deep and even. There was no hint of fear in the air around us, no flavors in my mouth other than toothpaste. I kept expecting Heilel to have another nightmare, but ever since we’d started sharing a bed, they seemed to have stopped. I shifted on the pillow, seeking a drier spot—my hair was still damp from the shower I’d taken before bed.
The shower I’d needed to take because my entire body had been covered in Belanor’s remains.
As I lay there, staring into the fire, my mind went back. Back to when I’d stood beneath that pounding stream, my head bent against the water. I’d watched gore run into the drain and felt nothing. It was like I had started to drift away.
Heilel was the one to bring me back.
“Fortuna,” I’d heard him say.
The devil had such a beautiful voice, I thought to myself. The husky edges felt like a feather against my senses. I turned my head, water cascading down my spine. Heilel stood on the other side of the cloudy glass, respecting my privacy. I felt him studying me. After a moment, he must’ve come to a decision, because I saw him move in my peripheral vision. He hooked his thumbs into the band of his boxer briefs and slid them off.
Heat coiled in my core as Heilel stepped into the shower and pulled the door shut. I didn’t move, and he stopped just short of the stream. A moment later, I felt a sponge move over me. When I remained still, not uttering a sound, Heilel continued. He washed my back first, then my neck. His strokes were so tender. He lowered himself to his knees, cleaning my thighs, my shins, even my feet.
Once he’d finished, Heilel stood and stepped away. The intensity of his expression felt like flames licking over my skin.
“What do you want?” he asked.
Now it was my turn to study him. I was still looking over my shoulder, one hand pressed against the wall. Heilel’s sultry lips were slightly pursed, and there was a line between his golden brows, as if he’d found a problem he couldn’t solve. After a moment, it hit me—Heilel was trying to comfort me. He just didn’t know how.
It felt like there was a flower blooming inside my chest. The petals unfurled and pushed out all the bad feelings again. I finally turned around and took Heilel’s hand, pulling him back through the water. My spine pressed against the cool wall. Heilel kept his eyes on mine, moving slowly, carefully. He took the backs of my thighs in his hands and lifted me effortlessly, then adjusted my legs so I was wrapped around his waist. We looked at each other, and for the millionth time, Heilel’s beauty struck me. Every hard plane of his naked body was lined in shadow, making him look like a carving. His golden hair was wild from the water, the waves more prominent.
As I watched, a wet strand fell back over his eye. Damn it, I thought helplessly. Giving in to the need burning through me, I hooked my wrists behind Heilel’s neck and bent my head, kissing him deeply. I was obsessed with his taste. Every part of me was fused to him, and I couldn’t get close enough.
What began as a slow, tender kiss quickly heated into urgent hunger. Heilel held me tighter, pressing me even harder against the wall. My arms wound more fully around his neck as we consumed each other. His tongue drove me wild. I felt his arousal between my legs, long and thick. I clenched involuntarily, desperate for him, but he didn’t shift or reach down.
“Heilel,” I whispered against his mouth. A plea.
After that, he didn’t make me wait any longer.
