“She’s in my dreams. I feel like I know her, not sure why.” The prisoner answered matter-of-factly.
“Interesting,” Satan replied. Narrowing his eyes, he turned back to his VIP. No matter how many times he came down here to visit, he couldn’t believe what he saw. It was remarkable really — it shouldn’t have been possible. Shaking his head, he turned and left the room without another word, the doors clanging shut behind him in succession.
The prisoner rose and moved to stand in front of the charcoal sketch his Master had been examining before his departure. Reaching out, he ran his fingers down the line of the woman’s jaw. He sighed and dropped his hand back down to his side and turned into the light revealing a face that only the Master himself had ever laid eyes upon. He had a thin, pale face; full, but chapped, lips; darkly-arching eyebrows; defined jawline; and a tangled mass of jet-black hair. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, held it for a moment then exhaled and opened them to stare at the flickering candle with one emerald eye and one blue.
Chapter Nine
Katia was floating on the softest, fluffiest cloud she could imagine. All of her cares and worries had been swept away and she felt lighter than she had felt in what seemed like forever. Sighing, Katia wondered if she was dead. If this was Heaven she was all in. No, she thought, she wasn’t dead, just having a wonderful dream. It was much better than the last one. That had been the strangest dream she had ever had — hot guys walking through invisible portals and staring at her with electric eyes, being kidnapped by handsome glowing strangers that believed in witches and demons. She was definitely going to have to make an appointment with a psychiatrist when she woke up, but for now this dream felt heavenly.
As she reveled in the softness all around her, Katia began to hear snippets of voices.
“…tell her about her friend…”
“…your exceptionally well-timed visit…”
“…asked for my help, so I came…”
“…does she know…”
“…don’t get your knickers in a twist, my man…”
“…give a shit what you think…”
“…take a breath and start thinking with your big brain…”
“…starting to wake up…”
Katia frowned. The voices weren’t so far away anymore. In fact, she could tell they were in the room with her. Still feeling deliciously relaxed, she stretched lazily and rolled over in the direction of the conversation. Opening her eyes, she tried to focus on the space around her. A couple of blinks later, her vision cleared. The voices stopped and seven sets of eyes were trained on her from across the room. No, make that eight, as the handsome lunatic stepped into her field of vision. They looked at her expectantly. Suddenly, her memories came crashing back. It had really happened. Katia had seen that man with the yellow eyes — who was looking at her like she was a rabid dog about to attack — step out of thin air. It was real. Hottie wasn’t a lunatic after all. Fuck!
Instead of the panic she expected to feel rising inside her, Katia stayed remarkably calm. She was pretty sure it was only a matter of time until she wound up curled in a ball in the corner. Katia passed her eyes over the lineup in front of her. Yellow-eyes, she remembered; her kidnapper, she remembered. The other six were all jaw-droppingly gorgeous in their own ways, but were complete strangers — glowing strangers — just like her kidnapper.
Katia decided her best course of action was to sit up and make herself look as sane as humanly possible. She reluctantly pulled herself out from under a huge, fluffy, white duvet.
Glancing down around her, Katia realized her kidnapper had gone out of his way to see to her comfort after her meltdown in the wake of yellow-eyes’ arrival. She had been provided with the softest duvet, two fluffy pillows, and the handcuff that had previously tethered her to the bed had been removed. A strip of gauze was wrapped around her wrist.
Realizing she must look a fright and half-psychotic after having just woken up, Katia reached up and touched her hair. Finger combing it quickly, she unknotted the birds nest that had developed during her impromptu nap. A bark of laughter arose from one of the men in front of her. “Luc, I don’t think you need to worry about her. She must be feeling calmer if she’s worrying about her hair.” He smiled at Katia, making her think of advertising billboards she’d seen downtown. His laughter was infectious, and Katia found herself chuckling and smiling back at him. Shifting her gaze, Katia noticed that Luc was scowling at his friend, though his expression cleared as he turned to look her over. “How are you feeling, Katia? Is your wrist hurting?”
Katia glanced down at her wrist, “No, actually it doesn’t. I thought I’d done a real number on it.” She unpicked the knot on the gauze wrapping and unwound the material. Inhaling sharply, she examined her wrist. Instead of the scabbed-over wound she had expected to see, all that remained was reddened skin that looked slightly rope burned. Frowning, Katia examined the cloth she had removed. On the patch that had rested directly over her skin was dried blood. “What the hell?” Katia muttered in confusion, raising her wrist to eye level in order to get a better look.
Crossing over to the bedside, Luc sat down next to her and took a look at her arm. He nodded and shot his companions a meaningful glance. “Two hours ago, I was on the verge of stitching it.”
Taking her arm gently, he rubbed his thumb over the marks on her wrist. Katia looked up at him and their eyes locked and held. The sound of a throat clearing yanked them both
