Page 132 of Of Spindles and Nightfall
Every step forward felt like a lie. No redemption existed for his actions. Only the hollow hope of making sure Casiel didn’t suffer for Zarathos’s sins again.
His foot caught, and he landed again on the mossy earth. When he glanced upward, Casiel had vanished, and Aryana looked down on him with her glittering eyes, like crimson rubies. His beautiful vampress demon queen.
“Aryana, you’ve returned.” Zarathos reached out to her, and she drew closer, her dress billowing around her with each step. She leaned close and ran a sharp finger over his cheek.
“I’m sorry for everything,” he said. “I want to be better… I’ll be better for you…”
She leaned closer, her gaze wide, curious. Her hands came to his shoulder and pushed him onto his back, her eyes sparking withdesire. She curled a leg on either side of him, straddling him, and though the world spun, Zarathos would let her. Let her do whatever she intended to him.
“Aryana,” he said again. She was all he wanted. All he’d ever want for the rest of his life.
She pressed a finger to his mouth as if to silence him. Leaning close, her beautiful hair fell in sheets around him as she moved her hand, tracing his lips.
His limbs were heavy and sluggish. Her finger glided along his lips again and again, then slipped inside. It felt sharp, and strangely cottony against his tongue.
Zarathos choked. Something twisted in his mind. The world flickered—and a monstrous creature straddled his chest. Spindly, black, with eight gleaming eyes and eight twitching legs. Smaller versions of the beast crawled across his arms and lower limbs, weaving sticky webs that pinned him to the ground.
He roared, but the cotton clogged his mouth, muffling the sound, smothering him.
Sword.He had a sword.
His right arm, the only limb that obeyed, twitched as he fought to reach for it.
And then everything spun. Aryana’s face appeared close and calm, her voice a whisper against the chaos.
“Hold still, Zarathos,” she breathed. “This time, it’s my turn to do what I desire to you.”
He struggled to retain the idea of the sword at his waist, the nasty wet cotton clogging his throat. Aryana leaned forward, herlips parting. Long mandibles protruded from them, dripping with venom.
His fingers moved toward his waist, wet and sticky, fighting the force holding him. They slipped around the hilt and he grasped it. With one more thrust, he tore it from its sheath and slammed it forward into the beast on top of him. Aryana stared at him with horrified, betrayed eyes as he pressed harder, driving the sword into her chest.
The beast reappeared, and he forced the blade deeper into it and it shrieked, falling back. Other little spider-like creatures squealed and rushed around the creature. Zarathos chopped wildly, unable to aim, but forcing them to retreat. He broke through the webbing holding him.
Spitting out the sticky silk stuck to his mouth, he stumbled to his feet. He hurried away from the death trap.
Hallucinations. Zarathos was hallucinating. He attempted to remember why. He pressed a hand to the minor ache on his throat. A pinprick, a consequence. Someone had poisoned him.
Gods, this had spiraled out of control. He had trouble recalling his whereabouts and purpose.
His legs trembled, nearly giving out beneath him. Up ahead, a large stone boulder jutted from the earth, and Zarathos forced himself through the remaining steps to reach it. He slumped against the rock, chest heaving, eyes lifting to the enclosed ceiling above. The sound of rushing gave way to shouts.
Where was the sky?
He closed his eyes, willing focus to return.Cheers. Demons. Trials.
Zarathos was in the midst of the final demon trial.
And he couldn’t think straight.
Pressing his palms to the stone behind him, he fought to slow his racing heart, to anchor himself in the present, to stop the damn forest from spinning like a cursed top.
Then the stone shifted.
A hand burst from it and clamped onto his arm. Horror ripped through him as the world around him flashed—and two furious eyes stared into his, crowned by a triumphant, savage grin.
Tigon, the half-giant.
It was fine. Zarathos had a deal with him. Didn’t he? He had a deal with most champions in this round.
