There were so many pages, unfamiliar entry after entry—all of them in her handwriting. Yet, each lacked a date, filling up the tome that sat upon the room’s solitary desk with a vague story of her time in this stone room.

I did not sleep last night, and when Darius came to me again, he smiled as if he knew I’d waited for his return. Bone tired, I was poor company, but he was kind to me. He even offered an explanation. My sentence in this room, he claimed, is twice the lifetime of the man I killed.

Chadwick Parker had not been a young man, and I worry I might be trapped here for near a century.

How many times had Pearl read this first entry? It was impossible to know, but the page was growing worn and the book was filled with hundreds if not thousands of similarly pinned memories.

Darius held my hand when I grew sad at this news, claimed he hated to see my anguish. That is why he enforces his gift. My memory each night is wiped away so I might be spared from a monotonous eternity in prison. One day he’ll hold my hand as I am set free. One day, I’ll be allowed to meet others like me. I’ll never be alone again.

Flipping through the journal, Pearl looked for something she couldn’t pin. Over and over this Darius character was mentioned, but so far, she’d seen no sign of anyone in the cramped cell. Which was well and good. Yet something about the book was disturbing, obvious in its wrongness, but with no explanation.

Pages were missing, torn out. Gone forever.

Why?

Why remove pages from the journal? What had been written on them that Darius didn’t want her to see?

Had she torn them out? And if she had, why do it?

Letting the book thump back on the desktop, Pearl looked over the grotesque grandness of the items piled inside her cell. From the red velvet draping the walls, to the jewels scattered over desk and crevice, everything seemed staged—like an altar.

Like an offering.

What would a girl locked in a room need with jewels? She was hardly even dressed in little more than lace bound by a sash around her middle.

She was also sporting dried blood under her nails and she smelled in need of a bath.

But there was no water, no urn, only a chamber pot of sorts that was uncomfortable to use.

There wasn’t even a rat scurrying around for her to catch and eat.

Then again, according to the massive tome on the desk, she drank her meals from the mysterious Darius. In flowery language she even described the taste and how addicting it might be.

Pearl didn’t use flowery language. A great many of the entries she scanned didn’t sound like her at all.

Had he told her what to write?

More importantly, if she had been the one to tear out a page, where would she have hidden notes in this crypt?

Running her hands under the heavy mattress had led to nothing. Nooks in the wall were explored, the space behind paintings, even the trunk of scandalous clothing at the foot of the bed.

There was nothing but dust.

Dust?

Stamping her foot, Pearl felt the earth under the room’s sumptuous rug. Things could be buried in dirt.

Like bodies.

Or trapped women.

Throwing back a corner of the rug, brushing aside dried rushes, damp earth met her fingers. Clawing at it here and there did naught but pit the ground. Fueled by a growing need for answers, Pearl threw handfuls of earth aside, careless of where they fell.

“You won’t find what you’re looking for there.”

Crouched like a spider and panting as if she’d just run a race, Pearl cut a glance over her shoulder and hissed.

The mystery man himself stood like a beautiful beacon. And he was smiling at her, serene and unthreatening.

“Darius?”

A winged eyebrow arched. “Yes, Pearl?”

He obviously knew what she was up to, and seemed unconcerned. Tickled even. “Where are the missing pages?”

Walking toward a fantastical painting of an ancient warlord, the stranger pulled back a bit of torn canvas to display a nook. “Sometimes I find them here.” He then changed course, moving to a stone in the wall that came away easily when jiggled. “And often here.”

Both cavities were empty. Whatever she’d hidden away had been lost. And he had known to look for them. Nervous despite his kind expression, Pearl asked, “Why do you take them away?”

The handsome man’s smile grew charmed. “Take them? I collect and keep them for you.” He pointed to a small, obvious box on the desk. A place Pearl had ignored in her hunt.

Wiping dirtied hands on the impractical lace gown, Pearl crept forward, untrusting and cautious. It was as he claimed. Inside the jeweled box, the folded notes were haphazardly stacked.

Once she stood before them, he crossed the room. Appearing out of thin air behind her body.

His heat met her back. Lips to her ear, breath warm, he asked, “Do you want to play a game?”

Her fingers hovered over the notes. Buzzing nervously from the intimate way he brushed against her, Pearl whispered, “What kind of game?”

“For every note you choose to read, I earn a kiss from my beloved treasure.”

It was a trick. Men were never forthcoming. But there was something deeper than cautious intuition that warned she needed to see what was on those stolen pages. “One kiss for one note?”

A rich smile in his voice, the man nuzzled closer. “A kiss, my love, nothing more.”

Delving in, a random scrap of paper was chosen, pulled free, and unfolded.

Darius is the devil and you are in hell.

A hearty chuckle shook her body, the man pressed to her back extremely amused. “I do so love the look on your face when you read that one. In those first precious moments, you don’t want to believe it. You’ll turn and look me over from head to toe. Where are the horns? Where is the tail and cloven hooves? What reason might you have to think I am this character from your nightmares? Maybe it was written as a joke. Maybe, we’d argued that day… Perhaps you’d fallen gravid and grown difficult.”

Fear crawled up her spine and blood ran cold no matter how warm the body at her back. Turning her head so she might glimpse the one wrapping his arms around her torso, Pearl met his glowing red eyes.

His gaze burned all the brighter, fangs slowly descending behind a positively elated smile. Teasing in the meanest voice she’d ever heard, Darius hummed, “Or, maybe it’s absolutely true.”

Mortally afraid, she stood there, a hairsbreadth from those teeth, and asked, “What does gravid mean?”

He brought a hand to her cheek, reminding her that there was a price. A kiss for a note. After all, there were rules to this game. Fingers pinched her chin, turning her attention back to the box. “I never claimed questions were a part of our fun.”

One folded page would not be enough. Snatching up another, she tore in her haste to read what was waiting.

He raped me over and over until I bled from every hole a man might abuse on a woman. I begged him to stop, and he laughed.

“That’s two kisses now, my Pearl.”

Fat, silent drops slipped over trembling cheeks. She reached for a third.

He’s never going to let you out. Find a way to kill yourself.

A tongue traced the shell of her ear, followed by a low rumble. “But how would you do it? All your wounds heal almost instantly thanks to the strength my blood has given you.”

Shivering, Pearl wrapped her arms around her middle, the heat emanating from the man pressed to her back worthless. “I don’t want to read anymore.”

“Three kisses are owed me then, sweet treasure.” With a flourish, he spun her about, the desk cutting off any chance of retreat. Sniffing at her hair, he demanded like a spoiled prince. “I’ll claim the first one now.”

After only a few moments in his presence, the idea was repugnant no matter how handsome the stranger might be.

“We had a deal, Pearl. Honor it, and see how reasonable I can be. Why be so frightened of words on a page?”

Because unlike the book, those hidden words seemed real. Very real, as if a locked corner of her mind was pounding against a wall, trying to warn her danger was here.

Play his game or resist, what would lead to a more favorable outcome when trapped with the devil?

Standing on tiptoe, Pearl pressed a chaste kiss to sculpted, smirking lips.

It would seem chastity was of no interest to Darius. His tongue slipped into her mouth, delving to undulate inside. Razor sharp teeth nipped, drew blood that he sucked into his mouth with a satisfied groan.

Lips were abandoned for her jaw, his mouth working its way next to her neck.

It was there he sank in those fangs.

The pain was extraordinary.

Legs giving out, it was only the strength of the man that kept her upright as he drained a punctured vein.

He feasted no matter how she fought, until her vision narrowed to a pinpoint. Limp, useless, she hung like a ragdoll.

Pain seemed to fade, her body ready to release the spirit where it could leave this room and go to God.

The sweet silence of death so close, she craved it. Smiled at the coming light.

Until Darius dropped her.

Weak, twisted like a discarded marionette, she could only groan while the man licked his lips and grinned.

He wasn’t going to let her go to the light. No, he wanted to keep her in his darkness forever. Isn’t that what the missing page claimed?

Trying to get to her knees, to crawl under the desk as if it might offer shelter, earned a barked laugh.

“Kara sevde, there will be none of that.” He seized her ankle, and pulled her under his crouching body. “What would you gain by hiding that pretty face from me?”

“Help me.” Her plea was not for him; it was said out of sick desperation that God might listen.

“Hush, child. You are not going to die.” A rumble of demonic glee, of a thirst for more than blood, moved from sculpted lips to an unwilling ear. “But I will grant you sleep. Enjoy my mercy. But when you wake, two more kisses are owed.”