Page 222 of Red Ruin

Running away from liches hasn’t worked out great for me.

It’s time to make a stand.

When the light hellfire shows us nearing the ground, Remy’s shadows slow our fall. We touch down in the twisted passage of a naturally formed tunnel.

Vhex’s fire casts shadows on the crooked walls, but his heat can’t cut the chill. Thick, yellowy mist gathers at our ankles. Its icy bite pierces bone.

The miasma muffles my senses, but down here, the source of the death magic is as easy to track as a rotting tooth.

I don’t have to point to the lich king’s position.

It feels likehe’spointing at us.

Instead of spreading out in a defensive formation, I tug Vhex and Remy closer, steering them away from the ceiling hole. “Stay with me.”

“You said it.” Vhex hauls me against his chest.

Remy glares down the tunnel.

As soon as I focus on him, my throat throbs.

With the flash of pain, I slip into his vampiric senses. To me, the cave smells like damp clay. To him, it’s a rotting stench.

Thick. Choking. Decay.

The taste fills my mouth. Somewhere in the foulness, I catch a hint of old blood.

I salivate, then gag.

What a terrible thing to crave.

“Where’s your mask?” I ask, patting Remy down.

The shadows unfold, presenting a black leather face covering that dangles with complicated clasps.

I lift it to my face to figure out how it works.

“Lend me your scent,” Remy says huskily.

He guides my grip, moving the straps aside, pressing the mask to my face instead of his.

The rigid leather is fitted. It’s too large to mold to my cheeks, but Remy holds it roughly in the right position on my face.

I catch a darkly floral scent before my nose finds the trough meant to pinch it off.

When a copper bit bumps the seam of my lips, I meet Remy’s swirling, red eyes.

“Curl your tongue,” he says huskily. “Coax the bit into place.”

I hold his gaze as I suck the metal nib into my mouth.

“Slick the leather.” Remy gently moves the mask. “I want it soaked in your flavor.”

He presses the bit deeper.

I open my mouth.

The metal is cold, but the kiss?—

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