Page 4 of Dark Prince's Captive

Unlike the demonic figures before me, I do have lips, and they get dry.That’s good.And my armpits sweat.That’s even better.Would there even be such a thing as sweat in the afterlife?Wouldn’t it all be metaphysical?Then again, how do you burn in hell if you can’t experience physical sensations?You have to have nerve endings to feel the fire scorching you, right?So why not sweat glands as well?

The man—demon?—who spoke before says something again.His tone is sharper, angrier.A command.It’s not directed at me, though, because one of the other demons responds to it by heading toward me.

My heart rate spikes, and adrenaline floods my body.

Maybe this isn’t hell.Maybe these creatures aren’t demons but football players in strange masks.Or maybe I’ve fallen asleep over my laptop, and this is a really vivid nightmare.

Whatever it is, I don’t wait to find out.

I turn, and I run.

Or at least I try to run.

I make it exactly two steps before my bare toes catch on some root and I faceplant onto the wet ground.

A ground that hisses and bucks underneath me as stinging needles bite into every inch of my exposed skin.

“Ahhh!”I leap to my feet and back away, frantically slapping at my burning arms, face, and legs as the “ground” rears up in front of me and opens its horrific vertical maw, the dripping sideways fangs inside glinting in the distant firelight.

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

Iamin fucking hell.

The hairy, tube-like creature—which I’d call a caterpillar if it weren’t my fucking size—hisses again and lunges at me, maw open as if to swallow me whole.

I let out another scream and turn to run again, only to hit a steel wall.

Or, as I realize with the small portion of my brain that still retains some functionality, the chest of the demon coming after me.He must be wearing a metal plate underneath his snakeskin attire because I bounce off his chest, hard, and fall backward on my ass.

Right next to the giant caterpillar thing and its stinging hairs.

I scream and cover my face as it drops down onto its dozen legs and lunges at me.

Instead of its fangs biting into me, there’s a whooshing sound, followed by a cold, slimy spray across my arms and face.I gag and cough-spit as the taste, bitter and acidic, seeps into my mouth.

I’m still coughing and spitting as a huge, clawed hand yanks me to my feet and a rough palm sweeps painfully across my face, wiping away most of the slime… which I’m now realizing is the caterpillar’s guts or blood or whatever it had inside.

To say that I’m grossed out to the point of puking would be a major understatement.

I dry-heave as my demonic savior drags me toward the fire, where the other figures are still hanging out.As we approach, they growl something in their foreign tongue, and he replies, not looking at me.Which is good because I’m still trying to process the fact that I was just attacked by a creature straight out of an entomophobe’s nightmare.

Seriously, am I in hell?Is that what the weird circle of lights was about—a portal to the underworld?

The demon dragging me shoves me in front of him, making me stumble and nearly fall into the flames.

“Excuse you,” I snap and twist my arm against his grip.He must not have been expecting any resistance because I actually break out of his hold.

For a moment, that is.In the next instant, he grabs my wrist, growls, and twists my arm behind my back with such force that I scream and fall to my knees.

The fucker laughs—full-on cackles, like a movie villain—and his buddies join in.

Then he releases my wrist and backhands me.

He probably uses only a fraction of his enormous strength, but my ears ring and I taste copper in my mouth.

I’ve never, ever been hit, and I can’t say I’m a fan.

I do, however, have a high tolerance for pain—and apparently zero common sense.Operating purely on instinct, I scoop up a handful of dirt and embers and fling the mixture at his face.

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