Page 9 of Lucifer's Mirror
I don’t freaking know anything anymore.
But on the off chance that this is real, then these men have to know what’s going on. Or at least they know more than I do. And maybe they even know who I am. That’s huge, and what I’ve wanted more than anything since I woke up three years ago.
So I give in to the inevitable, totter across to the car, and climb into the back. The locks click. I’m pulling the seat belt across my chest as we start moving.
“Hey guys, where are we going?” I ask.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” Trystan replies.
I don’t think I like Trystan. But I suspect I’m not going to get anything else out of them. The motion of the car soothes me, and I close my eyes and try to stop my whirling thoughts. There’s no point in trying to think this through. None of it makes sense. The car jolts, and I open my eyes. We’re out of the forest and on a road heading south—I think.
All I can do is wait and hope they’ll tell me something when we reach our destination. At least the headache that’s plagued me all day has disappeared. I fight to stay awake, but it must be close to 2 AM, and exhaustion takes over; I close my eyes again and drift off into sleep.
I don’t know how long I’m out or what wakes me. Blinking open my eyes, I find we’ve stopped in an underground parking area. I have no clue where we are. I should have fought harder to stay awake.
The two men are talking quietly, and I hold myself still, hoping to hear something useful. But they go silent as though sensing I’m awake.
They both climb out, and the door beside me opens.
“Get out.” It’s the blond one—Trystan—and he really needs to work on his manners. For a moment, I stay where I am; then I sigh, unfasten my seat belt, and climb out. I look around, but the place doesn’t tell me anything. It’s just a garage with a couple of high-end vehicles parked nearby. I look between my two… What are they? Saviors? Captors?
I have to cling to the thought that Khaosti did actually save me—apparently from a fate worse than death. Or so he says. Besides, while Khaosti has been an arrogant ass, I do feel safe in his company, and I tend to have a sixth sense for these things. His friend, on the other hand…
I look up to find those amber eyes fixed on me. Khaosti’s gaze drops down over my body and his lips twitch. Then he raises his brow, turns, and walks away. Once again, I give in to the inevitable and trail after him and his obnoxious friend.
We head to an elevator and the doors close on us. The elevator is huge, with silver walls and a dark blue carpet. Khaosti presses a button, and we start to rise. I feel jittery in this confined space with these two big men.
There’s a mirror on one of the walls, and I glance at myself and immediately wish I hadn’t. In this case ignorance is definitely bliss—but it’s too late. I’m a freaking mess. I look like I’ve been dragged by the hair through a forest of mud. And I feel like it as well. I reach up and pull a twig from my ponytail, then stare at my hands. They’re dirty, scraped, and oozing in places. As soon as I look at them, they start to sting. There’s also blood on my face, but I can’t tell whether it’s from a cut or if I’ve wiped blood from my hands. My T-shirt is stained with mud, blood, and God knows what else. There’s a long tear through the middle, and I sniff—it was my favorite T-shirt.
The elevator comes to a halt, and the doors slide open. They lead directly into a hallway with marble floors and white walls. It’s spotlessly clean. I hesitate to take my dirty self into such pristine surroundings. But it’s that or stay in the elevator, so I take a deep breath and follow my two new friends.
I open my mouth to ask where we are, but Khaosti has stopped in front of a doorway. He opens the door and gestures for me to enter. I step past him and through the door into a bare room. I come to a halt and turn around to ask Khaosti what happens next... just as the door shuts in my face.
I hear a click.
My hand shoots out for the door handle. It doesn’t turn.
They’ve freaking locked me in.
“Bastards!”
Chapter 5
Khaos
Icanstillhearherhammering on the door as we enter a room at the other end of the corridor. I slam the door behind us, turn, and punch my fist into the wood.
“Ouch,” Trystan murmurs.
I ignore him. I hardly feel the pain. Inside me, Fury, my beast, is pacing, raking his claws along my nerve endings.
Not fucking helping.
I’m fighting the urge to go back to her. I tell myself that I merely want to find out more about her. Who she is, why she was so important to my brother.
But the truth is, I just want—need—to be close to her, to breathe in her intoxicating scent. I close my eyes and relive the minutes I held her in my arms; she smelled like a forest at night: fresh pine, damp earth, and the cool, crisp air of a midnight breeze.
But I’m on the edge; Fury is close to the surface, and I know from experience that I can’t be around her right now. Not if I want her to survive the experience.
