Page 73 of Infernal Bindings

Then I remember, I don’t need one.

I’m a witch, with full access to not only my family’s magic, but to Salios’s as well. Power thrums beneath my skin as I will the vines to disappear, without incantations, without angelic channeling—just me. They wilt into nothing, and I kick my feet free, sprinting for the door. More vines replace the last, trying to trip me, but I jump over them, and I use my magic to fry the rest. Then, heavy, giant footfalls thud mere feet behind me, vibrating the wooden panels.

Don’t look back.

You’re almost there.

Whatever monster is chasing me swipes at my back, ripping through my cloak. I hear rather than see the fabric shred, scraps of it floating to the floor. But then I’m there, at the metal door. Shoving at it, I wait to be greeted by Hell’s dusty red sky. Instead, it doesn’t budge.

Because only an incubus can open it.

Dread makes my stomach dip, but I didn’t come this close to fail now. I may not be an incubus, but I can channel from their archdemon. Surely that must mean something. Breaths frantic, I stare at my pink tattoo, then my fingers, willing them to transform into something red and clawed. To my surprise, they do, mimicking the magic an incubus has.

I force open the door just as the monster swipes at me again. This time, the claws make purchase. Sharp pain radiates up my spine. Warm liquid drips down it as I stumble onto the red and sandy cobbles. I’m so close, I can taste my freedom. Mere feet away, Minerva’s portal stands—a black doorway shrouded in shadow.

The monster roars.

When I peer behind me, I see nothing. Relief fills me, but it’s short-lived. Invisible claws—because the monster is apparently transparent—slash at my bare arms, and a nasty gash spreads. Deep. It’s so deep, I can see connective tissue. Tears burn my eyes, but I ignore them. Adrenaline pumping, I scramble toward the portal, grab the glinting red door handle, and twist.

Thank God it opens.

I step inside it and fall into darkness.

And fall.

And fall.

And fall.

This isn’t Minerva’s portal. It’s Salios’s.

35

TIME’S UP

Iland in warm shadows.

Muggy darkness curls around me, moisture sticking to my arms and legs. The only light for as far as I can see comes from my glowing pink wrist tattoo. It illuminates more shadow, and nothing else. Wherever Salios brought me, there are no cells, no chains, no windows or doors. There’s nothing, save for the sound of my own heartbeat.

Stinging pain radiates through my body where the creature struck me, but I barely notice it. It’s overridden by a different kind of ache pulsing at my core—the cost of channeling Salios’s power. Hot from both the air and his lust magic, I rip off Minerva’s cloak and slip my hand between my thighs, groaning when I feel the immovable, impenetrable metal there.

The chastity belt.

I curse at it, rubbing along the smooth curves, humping into my hand to no avail. God, it’s pathetic and desperate and humiliating; at least no one is around to see me. But then I hear a faraway voice calling my name.

“Annie? Is that you?”

Daemon.

I don’t want to answer him. I don’t want to look at him, or speak to him, or love him. I’d rather face Salios’s punishment than stare into Daemon’s eyes, knowing he broke my trust by sleep-feeding on me, and that everything between us is some fucked-up lie. It’s worse than anything the archdemon might do, which is probably why he put me in here.

The voice comes again, closer this time. When I see Daemon standing in my periphery, I pry my hand away and shut my eyes. A warm tear leaks past them, and I curse myself for it.

“Shit, you’re hurt,” Daemon says, kneeling beside me. He rips the black t-shirt from his body and tears it into strips, then starts wrapping them over my forearm. My skin pebbles the second he touches me, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my center—courtesy of Salios’s magic.

The blood soaks through instantly. Daemon applies more strips, but I yank my arm away. “Stop touching me,” I hiss.

He does.