Page 3 of Dance with Death

She always was.

But I’m the devil and she’s not ready to reign in hell with me—she may not ever be. But this…this is promising.

She came to me.

She gave herself to me.

She took a grave risk in coming to me this way. Her experiences with me would have told her that I might beat her, burn her, drown her, fuck her, hurt her in any manner of my choosing. That gamble may have been just enough reason for me to provide her with an insurance policy. If she can give herself to me now, perhaps she will be worthy of me in the future.

Only time will tell.

Chapter 1

Anya

Present

One. Two. Three.Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six—

Nikolai’s gun slams against my temple, knocking me sideways onto the floor. A ringing sound explodes behind my ears and my vision blackens at the edges before clearing.

I start to push off the floor with my palms, but the hard heel of Nikolai’s dress shoe slams down heavy on the outside of my left ankle, holding me in place.

He twists his foot, grinding into my flesh. I’m dumbstruck and silent in the moments before my brain registers pain. I’m confused at first, but as he lifts his foot and slams it back down again on the same spot, jamming the hard ridge of my ankle bone painfully into the marble floor, I know exactly what he’s doing.

Over and over, he stomps.

Each stomp is more forceful and intentional than the last. He grunts with each slam, his teeth bared and anger flashing blackness in his eyes. His slicked back hair becomes undone—along with his self-control—and ash-brown strands fall across his forehead with each movement. The darkest rage I’ve ever seen contorts his face, and I see him as none other than the devil before me. It’s as if my pain has sent me straight down to the depths of hell to be punished as he pleases in his kingdom of nightmares.

Each hit jolts pain through my entire body like I’ve never felt before.

His foot slams.

My ankle bruises.

The pain shoots sharp and fast up through my leg, into my hip, screaming warnings at my mind to get away.

But I can’t.

My muscles stiffen, guarding against the attack, but there’s nothing I can do to avoid the electric current of crippling ache that shoots through my leg with each hit.

Over and over again.

And then there’s a crack.

I open my mouth to scream, but no sound comes out. Everything is dulled by the consuming pain, even the sound of my own torment.

My ears ring for what feels like an eternity of silent aching and then, without any warning, the volume of reality is suddenly unmuted and cranked up as high as it will go.

I scream.

I break into sobs.

Something’s torn or broken or completely fucking shattered inside me. All I can think about is the pain for long, searing moments.

Nikolai stops.

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