Wren

My mouth went dry, and my fingers dug into Corson’s shoulders as he raced across the ground. That hiss seemed to come from only feet away, but the constricting walls and the blackness threw all sounds off. The ouro could be only inches behind us or fifty feet away. The not knowing was worse than the ouro’s foul breath, which smelled like it had fifty dead skunks trapped in its fangs.

I should tell Corson to put me down again. I shouldn’t be relying on a demon to save me, but I couldn’t run as fast as he could, and I definitely couldn’t outrun the snake breathing down our necks. I didn’t have so much pride I would put it ahead of my life. Mine may not be the greatest of lives—it was often difficult, terrifying, and bloody—but I far preferred it to the alternative of not having it.

The part of me clinging to my pride was muzzled by the far larger part of me trying not to slap Corson’s shoulders and yell at him to go faster.

When the ouro hissed again, its breath blew the loose strands of my hair back from my face and nearly set my gag reflex off. Then, something slithered against my face. I yelped before I could bite my lip to suppress it. Bile rushed up my throat when the ouro’s hideous, wet tongue stroked my cheek again. Then, the tongue either retracted or Corson sped beyond its reach.

“Faster,” I breathed, and Corson grunted a reply.

For all I knew, we were running into a dead end, but I was willing to take that chance. Corson’s arms tightened around my waist as he spun suddenly to the side. Unprepared for the movement, my head snapped sideways, and my neck screamed in protest.

I lowered my head and rested my chin on his shoulder as he ran down what I assumed was another tunnel. His lean muscles flexed against me; his arms held me as if he would never let go while his long legs effortlessly ate away the ground. Air whipped around me and whistled past my ears as he ran deeper and deeper into the earth. I’d been trying to keep track of our steps and turns, but that was all lost now as I held Corson tighter.

A monstrous Hell creature was on our asses, and somehow I felt inexplicably safe clutched in his arms. He wouldn’t let anything happen to me. I didn’t know how I knew that, but once it rooted in my mind, it wouldn’t let go. Releasing me to save himself would be the smart thing to do, the thing most likely to keep him alive. I would have done it to him, but Corson would keep me safe.

Would I have done it to him?

I’d done some pretty shitty things to ensure I’d lived this long. I’d killed other humans—they had deserved to die, but their blood still stained my hands—but I’d never left an ally behind or abandoned them to save myself. I’d been tempted to leave a few behind over the years because they were weak or assholes, yet I’d always stayed by their side. I’d nearly died a time or two because of it.

Now I realized that, demon or not, I wouldn’t have left Corson behind either. It was one thing to save my skin; it was another to have to live with the knowledge that I’d sacrificed another to live. I never could have lived with that knowledge.

A loud crash sounded from behind us. The walls quaked, and the debris falling from above clattered against the ground at a faster rate. I threw my arms up to protect Corson and me from the rubble raining down on us. I’d prefer being buried alive to being devoured by an ouro-what’s-it-called, but they were two of the worst possible ways I could think of to go.

I turned my face into Corson’s neck as more rocks pelted off my arms. The musky scent of him filled my nose; beneath that I smelled the faint hint of fire. I realized that Hell was forever stamped upon his skin, branding him as the demon he was. Before, such a reminder would have caused loathing to coil within me. Now I felt relief that this demon was carrying me away from our enemy.

When the debris stopped falling, I lowered my arms and gripped his shoulders once more. I was no lightweight, but he showed no signs of tiring. One of his arms remained locked around my waist as his other hand slid up to grip my neck.

The possessive hold made me acutely aware of how close we were to each other. The increased scent of him battered my senses as his lean muscles flexed against me and I felt the power flowing through him. For the first time in my life, I found myself experiencing an intense sexual attraction to someone, and it was a demon.

I’d hit my head when we fell into the ouro’s trap, or I’d completely lost the last bit of my sanity.

Now was not the time for this, yet I found myself fighting the impulse to turn my mouth into his neck. To run my tongue over his skin and taste his fire-scented flesh as I pressed my breasts more firmly against his chest.

You’re an idiot!

Yes, I was, but my hands had a mind of their own as they flattened against his back. I full-on deserved to be eaten for my stupidity right now, but I still slid my hands a little lower to run them over his shoulder blades. The rapid beat of my heart was no longer just from the creature pursuing us.

Corson skidded to a halt, pebbles kicked away from him and clattered against something solid. I felt like I’d jumped into a lake in the middle of January as all my desire turned to icy dread.

A wall! There is a wall before us! Dead end. In more ways than one! I almost laughed bitterly at my own bad joke, but I couldn’t get enough saliva into my mouth to make a sound.

Sweat beaded my palms as I held Corson and gazed into the blackness before me. The rattling had ceased, and no vibrations shook the tunnel. Lying inside a coffin couldn’t be worse than the awful hush that encompassed the tunnel. Then, I felt the smallest stirring of air to my right.

Corson pushed me off him like I was on fire. Unprepared for the abrupt movement, my legs couldn’t catch me in time, and I hit the ground with a thud. My tailbone shrieked in protest, and the air burst out of my lungs.

Scuffling sounded, that awful hiss filled the air, then more rattles went off as I struggled to inhale air into my non-working lungs. Corson grunted; something solid thwacked against something else. Feeling my way across the stone lining the cold ground, I crept back, or at least I assumed I was edging away from the noises. The dark had robbed me of all sense of direction.

I would have given anything for a match, for a chance to see something if only for the briefest of seconds. What is happening? Where is Corson?

Another hiss followed a wet thwacking noise. All at once, numerous rattles went off. I resisted clapping my hands over my ears to dampen the deafening sound while the rattles reverberated all around me. More dirt and rocks fell from the ceiling; they pelted my shoulders and legs as I continued to crab crawl toward… something.

My back hit a wall, and I slid up it as I finally succeeded in inhaling completely again. My hand fell to the gun hanging at my waist. My fingers closed around the handle and froze. I didn’t dare pull it free and start firing when I had no idea where Corson was. I couldn’t take the risk of injuring him. The bullets wouldn’t kill him, but they would slow him down when he needed his speed most. However, I couldn’t stand here and do nothing.

Flesh split open with a wet tearing sound I’d heard more than a few times in my life. Demons had a way of ripping people to shreds before tossing them aside as if they were no more than the dolls I’d flung aside as a child. The coppery tang of blood permeated the air. Something or someone had been sliced open. I wanted to scream, not with fear, but with frustration as numerous rattles went off.

Is Corson okay?

My blood thundered through my ears at the possibility it was his blood I smelled and that the ouro could be gulping down bits and pieces of him right now. I opened my mouth to call out to him, but I didn’t dare risk distracting him or revealing my location to the ouro. The snake didn’t seem to have as much of a problem navigating this dark underworld as we did, but right now I didn’t think it knew where I was. That small element of surprise was all Corson and I had going for us right now.

Don’t snakes hunt by heat sensors or something? I didn’t remember where I’d heard that before, probably from Randy, but it would make sense if this thing had pursued us with such ease. That also meant there would be no surprise and this thing already knew where I stood.

The rattles abruptly stopped, and then a loud crash echoed through the tunnel. The ground heaved; the wall behind my back quaked. My stomach dropped when rocks and dirt plummeted from the ceiling at a far faster rate. The weight of the debris bore down on my toes as it crept toward my ankles.

I’m about to be buried alive!

All the hair on my arms rose as I waited for the battle to continue or for something more than the rubble to keep piling up around me. “Corson?” I dared to whisper when the debris reached my ankles.

I nearly shrieked when a hand fell on my shoulder. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “We have to get out of here.”

“No shit,” I retorted and immediately regretted being bitchy when he’d saved my life.

He chuckled, and his hand squeezed my shoulder. Before I could try to pull myself free from the rubble rising up my calves, he rested his hands on my hips to lift me. The dirt clutched at me, refusing to let go as Corson tugged at me.

The unsettling thought that it wasn’t only the rising debris keeping me in place, but a hand had risen from the grave to drag me into Hell, hit me. I imagined the dead, gray skin of the hand flaking away as it tugged at me with inhuman strength, refusing to release me. The dead coming to life, and hands rising from graves wasn’t impossible after everything else I’d seen and experienced over the years.

With a sucking noise, Corson finally succeeded in wrenching me from death’s grip. He carried me through the hailstorm of rubble cascading over us and into what I assumed was another tunnel. This one was blessedly clear of a collapsing ceiling.

He set me down, and I stepped away from him to wipe the dirt from my hair and clothes. When I was done with that, I took a minute to stabilize my shaking hands. Slowly, above the muted noise of the collapsing tunnel, a dripping sound pierced my ringing ears.

“What happened?” I whispered when I felt stable enough to speak again.

“To escape me, the ouro punched a new hole into the ceiling of the tunnel.”

I realized he’d moved and that I was facing away from him when he spoke. I turned toward his voice as his words settled in. That thing had fled him? I’d seen Corson kill, witnessed his ruthlessness, but now I knew I’d only glimpsed what he was truly capable of doing.

“Are you hurt?” I asked.

He’d moved closer so that his breath warmed my ear. My heartbeat escalated in response to his nearness. The memory of being held close to him earlier rippled across my mind. What would it be like if he turned his head, so his lips touched my skin?

“Nothing serious,” he murmured. “Are you okay?”

I edged away to put some distance between us again. He was a demon, and sexual attraction or not, nothing could ever happen between us.

“Fine. What is that dripping noise?” I inquired when I heard a plop again.

“Ouroboros blood,” Corson replied. “I’m pretty sure I eviscerated it while it was fleeing.”

Sexy. I wasn’t sure if the thought was as sarcastic as I’d meant it to be though, or if I did find it sexy. Corson was a warrior, and there was something unbelievably sexy about that, but eviscerated snakes weren’t exactly a turn-on.

Then why am I still wondering what it would be like to feel his lips on me? Because my brain had bounced off my skull more than a few times when we’d tumbled into the ouro’s trap, I decided. That had to be the reason.

“We should go,” Corson said. “The ouro will take some time to heal, but it will come back for us, and it will be more vengeful when it does.”

“Where are we?”

“I have no idea anymore.”