Page 602 of Rage

Then as he went to pull the blade out of my ruined chest, it stuck. I watched as his expression crumpled with consternation. I thought that maybe he had stabbed me with such brutalitythat he’d managed to get the blade stuck in the stone beneath me, but I was certain that carving through my spine would have rendered me paralyzed or at least numb. Then again, the pain had subsided–all that remained was the dull force of his closed hand thudding into me.

He released my throat and tried to pull the blade out with both hands. He was like a fucked up retelling of a heroic myth; only he failed to pull a blade from a woman, rather than a stone.

His eyes met mine and I grinned at him, knowing my teeth must be garish with the sheen of blood and saliva.

“What’s wrong,Dick?”I rattled wetly. “Having performance issues?”

“You little–” he started, but he didn’t get to finish.

A huge, dark hand exploded from the gaping wound in my chest, charcoal-colored and covered in viscera. It grasped Richard’s jaw with violent strength and I heard a sickening crack of bone as it squeezed.

Another arm clawed out of me, bracing on the bloody surface of the altar to give him the leverage he needed to wrestle the rest of his enormous form from the confines of my heart.

The men’s voices all coalesced into a chorus of terror and shouted questions as my demon left my body. He held onto Richard’s collapsing face as he turned to look at me with those beautiful ruby irises. With his other hand, he brushed bloody hair away from my face with such tenderness that I was enamoured. Who knew that a creature capable of such tenderness had such savage strength hiding beneath his too-hot skin.

“You were so brave,” he cooed. “Allow me, little goddess.”

He rose to his full terrifying height, and grabbed onto Richard’s shoulder with the same hand he’d just used to brush my hair from my face.

He tore the man in two as easily as if he were made of paper.

Richard’s entrails fell to the ground with a sickening, wet splat.

I looked weakly around the room, finding the naked men scrambling at the stone door that wouldn’t open for them. Their would-be sacrifices were in various stages of getting up, most of them holding their shifts around their bodies after their captors had ripped them open. They watched my demon with fearful hesitance as he discarded Richard’s corpse with careless abandon.

He stood, turning to the women who had become my sisters in this terrible experience.

“You may leave if you wish.” He approached my side, crushing white flowers beneath bloodied feet. “Or you may join us. Your sacrifices await your retribution.”

With one hand, he scooped my torso up toward him. With the other, he snapped his fingers. The men were rendered motionless, collapsing into disgusting, weeping heaps of hairy flesh on the floor.

Quiet reigned for a long time. Atreya was the first to speak.

“Will she die?” she asked.

“No,” my knight said immediately, no hint of worry in his voice that was just so pleasantly reverent and resonant. He watched my face with rapt admiration. I smiled at him and brought a hand up to cradle his face. His sharpened teeth appeared in a smile as he cupped my cheek in turn.

“Good,” Atreya said. “Can you help us with one more thing, creature? Help us get these disgusting pigs into the bathing room. There are some women in there who would like aword.”

“Bring them here,” he said, scooping me up into his arms with tender care. “There are more tools for them to use. I need a moment with my goddess.”

Atreya met my eyes over his shoulder as he turned and walked away with me. Her brows quirked, as if in question. I mustered a small nod, letting her know that I was okay.

My demon walked through the chamber as if he knew this place well. I’d assumed that the altar which I was laid upon had been found and moved here. Only now did it dawn on me that the caverns themselves may have been ancient as well.

Warm blood spilled down my front, soaking into my white shift like a glass of wine spilled on luxurious, white carpet. Or maybe an entire bottle.

“This looks as if it should be fatal.” I leaned my head against his chest as I looked down at my ruined, sunken rib cage.

“It is.”

So casually did he deliver this information that I thought I may have misheard him at first. His crimson eyes met mine as we passed behind a stone wall that I hadn’t realized had an opening. “The Forgotten One strikes fear into the hearts of many. Even Death himself will not disrupt your will.”

“I’m not the Forgotten One,” I said.

“Not yet,” he said. “But you will be soon.”

We passed under a stone archway where a long-haired woman reached for a two-horned demon, joined hands over our heads. “Is that you?”

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