Page 33 of Monsters in Love: Lost in the Underworld

“What the fuck are you talking about? Why can’t I leave?” The pitch of my voice rises with my hysteria.

“You stole from me.”

I swipe tears from my eyes and glare at him. “What? I did not!”

Ty heaves a sigh and snaps his fingers. Suddenly, everyone who was around us vanishes and the music goes silent. We’re alone, in a quiet, empty club. He reaches up and pulls off his mask, revealing an even more handsome face than I could have expected.

His hair is dark, his eyes are sea-glass green shot through with amber, and his nose is strong and straight. I’d already seen his stubbled jaw and strong mouth, but now, combined with the rest of him, the effect is arresting.

If I weren’t in absolute panic mode, I’d take a moment to appreciate the hottest man I’ve ever seen. But now is not the time.

And also, what the actual absolute fuckity-fuck just happened with him snapping and everyone disappearing? What the hell Halloween horror movie is this?

With a gentle hand, he reaches out and removes my own mask, revealing my delicate features. “You are lovely,” he says in a low voice.

Again, in different circumstances, I would very much appreciate the compliment and the searing way he’s looking at me.

BUT NOW IS NOT THE TIME.

I scrub a hand across my cheeks again, rubbing away more tears and discreetly removing any snot that may have dripped.

Am I losing my mind? Why can’t I leave? Where did everyone go? And why is he being so chill about it? And accusing me of stealing? None of this makes any sense and I don’t know whether to be mad, sad, or committed.

“What’s happening?” I whimper. “Who are you? What is this place? Where did everyone go?”

He gazes at me with sympathy and a dose of confusion, as if he’s the one who doesn’t understand the situation. “I’m Typhon, ruler of the Underworld. And thanks to your act of theft, you are trapped here for eternity, as per the rules.”

A truly hysterical screeching noise comes out of me, like a raptor caught in a blender. “What are you talking about? Trapped here? Ruler? Rules?” I fall to my knees. “Please let me go. I swear I didn’t steal anything.”

He smirks. “Oh, but you did. On that very dance floor. You stole a kiss.”

My heart sinks even lower than my knees. Is this fucker for real? “You have to be kidding. That’s just an expression. Honestly, none of this makes any sense.”

He drops to his own knees and takes my face in both his hands. He studies me with a frown. “Sweet Penny, you truly don’t know what’s happened, do you?”

I shake my head. How many more ways can I make that clear?

“As I said, my full name is Typhon. This club—The Underworld—serves as a portal from the human realm to my own. I am the Lord of the Underworld. To put it another way, I rule over hell. Humans are invited to my revels,” he gestures absently at the club around us, “but any who break the rules are forced to stay here with me for eternity. It is one of the ways I collect souls. But most of those who come here know the rules. Rarely does anyone break them these days.”

I chew my lip. He’s claiming to be the ruler of hell? I suppose that explains his devil mask—his idea of a joke. But that is theonlything I’m comprehending. “My friends Athena and Selene brought me. But they didn’t mention anything about rules or getting trapped here.” Yes, Athena had warned me about spiked drinks and strange men, but if she truly knew what could happen, why hadn’t she told me? Why had she let me wander off on my own?

He shakes his head. “Then they were careless, or perhaps not true friends. For that, I’m sorry. But the fact remains, you are here with me now and forever. Not in this club, of course. But in my realm.” He rubs a thumb across my cheek, trapping another tear. “I cannot find it within me to regret that. You are the loveliest, sexiest human I have ever met.”

I swallow hard, trying to grasp anything he’s telling me. I know it’s Halloween, a night for parties and pranks, but this feels real. After all, there’s toilet papering somebody’s house, and then there’s snapping your fingers and making a hundred people disappear in a blink.

He stands and then grips my elbow and helps me to my feet. “Come with me,” he says, leading me through the club to a sort of lounge area, with velvet couches and pretty sconces that offer soft light.

“Sit,” he invites. “Let’s see what we can do to sort this out.”

Sort it out? This doesn’t need sorting. Just let me go!

He snaps his fingers again and two things appear on the table: a tall glass filled with ice and something fizzy, and a plate covered by a dome.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“Sprite and hot French fries. Eat. You’ll feel better.”

I uncover the plate and shove a few fries in my mouth. How he knows they’re my favorite is beyond me, but whatever. They’re delicious. And he’s right. They make me feel about 1.3 percent better.

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