Page 8 of Savage Fate

Barric might have been an alpha, but he couldn’t take on multiple powerful demons. And no one wanted to see what would happen if the Infernal Sol ended up with a demon hell-bent on truly harnessing that dark power.

Chapter

Three

Hooded figures dancedthrough the shadows along the room’s edges, candlelight flickering over white masks beneath the ebony fabric.

Chains bound my arms and legs to a hard table. I couldn’t move.

“What do you want from me?” My heart slammed into my ribs, attempting to break out of my chest. “Why are you doing this?”

No one responded as they moved around like horrifying phantoms in a nightmare. Strange symbols covered the crimson walls, and the briny, metallic scent of blood choked the air.

So much blood. And fear.

The stench of it clogged my nostrils and seared my veins. Was itmyfear?

Faint whispers rose from the mysterious shapes, making my skin crawl. The sinister atmosphere intensified as they slinked closer.

“What are you going to do to me?”

Still, no answer.

I swallowed hard, feeling sweat running down my neck.

Where was my wolf? I couldn’t feel her inside.

As ominous laughter echoed, I shivered against the table.

“Someone, help!” The binds seemed to tighten like magic infused them as I fought to break free. “Help!”

But as the dread pressed against my trembling body, I sensed that help would never come…

A quiet gaspslipped out as I woke up, back in Fane’s bedroom, tucked safely beside him in his bed. My tossing and turning must have woken him, and he abandoned his stupid pallet on the ground. He rested on his stomach, his hand curved around my thigh as if to make sure I didn’t disappear. His torso slowly expanded and contracted while he peacefully slept.

Unlike me.

I dragged my hand over my sweaty forehead as the images of that nightmare, similar to the one I’d had in Camus’s car, simmered forward. The fear still clung to me as my heart hammered and limbs shook.

My nightmares had taken a sick and twisted turn that had nothing to do with my horrible childhood memories.

Still, cloaked and masked figures skulking around some satanic altar with a sacrifice strapped to a table wasn’t much better, especially when I felt every ounce of panic and fear as ifIwas bound to that table.

Unwilling to close my eyes and return to the horrible scene, I gingerly sat up, trying not to disturb Fane. He let out a soft groan and turned onto his back, unveiling the taut muscles, tattoos, and scars. The urge to trace over every inch of him ignited in my veins, but it would wake him, and he’d sense the unease coiling within me.

That and the longing formyamulet.

Not even these nightmares could banish the craving for the Infernal Sol. It still pulsated within me, and I could only choke itdown for so long. If it didn’t subside, Fane would eventually feel it.

Maybe I needed an exorcism. Or rehab.

I’d witnessed plenty of people go through hell while living on the streets and even in foster care. If I could compare this feeling—nauseous, dizzy, shaky, and angry sometimes—to anything, addiction was the closest thing.

It would fade, though. I just had to get through it. The worst was over.

The first night after Nadia removed the Infernal Sol, I spent most of the time with my head in Fane’s toilet, puking my guts out. I would have been more embarrassed if I hadn’t felt like complete and utter shit.

Thankfully, the elixir Logan had given me worked through my system before I got sick, or my wounds wouldn’t have continued to heal so well.

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