Chapter 8

8

T he fire goes out.

Darkness surrounds us.

An eerie silence envelops the room before Ivan's bloodcurdling screams erupt in the air. A flash of light fills my vision. Ivan's entire body has been set ablaze, the fire consuming him from the inside.

His screams continue, making me press my palms to my ears to block the merciless sound.

As the fire burns him alive, my eyes skitter past him to my cellmate. If I expected to find a charred corpse, I am sadly mistaken. His clothes are mostly burned and sticking to his skin. But his flesh is unmarred. There are no blisters, no burn wounds. There isn't even a little bit of redness.

"Stop this!" Ivan screams, falling to his knees and turning to the man to ask for help. "Please, stop!"

His pleas go unanswered.

Slowly, the man turns his head. His hair is half burned, but it still reaches his shoulders. It's a pure black, with the barest hint of ash from the fire.

I swallow hard as I get my first glimpse of the mysterious man.

His face is ashy, sickly. But it doesn't detract from the sheer beauty of his features. His jaw is strong and defined. His cheekbones so sharp they could cut through steel. His piercing eyes are big and round. I cannot make out the color of his irises, but there's a mesmerizing quality to them—so much so I cannot look away.

His face is expressionless as he watches Ivan succumb to his death. He falls to the ground, his screams a muted echo. His body continues to burn long after he dies, what's left of his remains feeding the fire.

"H-how…" I whisper as I stare at my cellmate.

He shifts his gaze from the fire to me, his eyes narrowing.

"What are you?" I whisper.

Only someone with immense power could have done something like that. But it doesn't make sense. If he is so powerful, how come he's still chained in this dungeon? How has he not escaped yet?

He stares at me for a few moments, his expression unchanging. It's dry, emotionless. There is no reaction. No joy at vanquishing an enemy, or at least annoyance at me for getting him set on fire. Nothing.

I lick my lips as I take a step toward him, crawling on my hands and knees.

"Don't," he rasps in a rough voice. "Do not move."

"What?"

He winces. Squeezing his eyes shut, he slumps forward. His mouth opens and closes as his breathing becomes labored. Whereas before his skin had looked almost translucent, now it's enveloped in a reddish hue. The veins on his neck and forehead protrude as he grinds his teeth. It's almost as if he's fighting an invisible force. His body angles forward, his chains rattling. He can barely move, and that serves to intensify his pain.

"Are you all right?" I ask, concerned.

"Do not," he grits out, "move."

"But…you're in pain," I whimper.

He shoots me a grave look before he lets out an agonizing groan.

Good Lord, what's happening? Is he suffering from some secondary effects because he killed Ivan?

His body spasms uncontrollably, his muscles straining against his chains. A cacophony of sounds erupts in the air as his chains rattle increasingly louder.

I wet my lips as I drag myself forward, ignoring his decree.

"Please. Tell me how I can help," I whisper as I reach his side.

The light is already dimming in the room as the fire from Ivan dies out.

I feel my way around his chains, trying to find a way to take them off him since he's so obviously in pain. But the moment I pull on one, a zap of energy thrusts me back.

"Agh." I gasp, rubbing at my hand.

His body spasms some more as he moves wildly against his chains, and that's when I realize that every time he tries to force the chains, currents of energy zap him, too.

"All...your…fault," he wheezes.

I blink in confusion.

"What? What do you mean?"

He opens his mouth to speak, but his eyes roll to the back of his head. He bites hard on his lower lip. Tension reverberates through him, his veins visible all over his face.

"He…knows. He…saw," he mumbles incoherently. "Need…out…"

"Please tell me how to help you," I repeat. Watching him in so much pain causes me physical discomfort.

He doesn't answer me.

Steps echo down the hallway of the dungeon, together with muffled voices.

Someone's coming!

He releases a shallow breath, slowly coming out of his trance.

"You want to help?" he asks, craning his neck to look at me. Up close, his eyes are a grayish silver hue—cold, icy.

I nod eagerly. He did save me. If there's anything I can do for him, I will.

"Come here," he demands in a curt voice.

"Here?"

I slide closer to him until I'm right by his side.

"Closer," he murmurs.

"W-what?"

"I cannot move, female. You will have to move for me," he bites out. "Now come closer."

"I don't understand…"

"Sit on my lap."

My eyes widen and I release a scandalized gasp.

He shakes his head wearily.

"Do I look like I am fit to do anything to you?" he asks drily.

I have to concede that he has a point. Besides, I was on his lap not too long ago when I stumbled over his body. It's not as if this is any different.

But that was when you didn't know what he looked like; when you thought he was a mummy.

So what if he's not a mummy? Or that he happens to have a stunning face that models would kill for? He's chained to a wall and he can barely move. It's impossible for him to take advantage of me. If anything, I could take advantage of him—not that I would. I pride myself on being a law-abiding citizen—most days. And though I might borrow his face for my dreams where I might or might not indulge in some fantasies, it's not as if I'm directly doing anything to him. Right…?

I shake my head at my foolishness. This is a life and death situation—where a man actually died, though good riddance. I need to get a grip on myself.

Slowly, I take a seat on his lap, holding on to his shoulders. The heat of his body penetrates mine, and instinctively, I want to wrap myself in it. I am too traumatized right now to think straight, and he's my only tether. So I hold on, soaking in his warmth and that tantalizing scent that's now even more intoxicating.

I blink slowly as I raise my gaze to his. Our eyes lock, and a tremor goes down my back.

"And now?" I bite my lip as I glance coyly at him.

"You agree to help me?" he asks again, the vibrations from his voice traveling straight through me.

"Yes. What do you need?"

He nods at me with his chin to come closer.

I do, and his hot breath brushes against my ear, making me shiver.

"We do not have much time. The rest of the guards are on their way here."

I gulp down.

"I need to feed to regain my strength and get out of here. If you help me, I will get you out of here too."

"You want to eat me ?" I ask breathlessly. Images dance in my brain, very much non PG-13 images. "Isn't that too soon? I mean, we haven't even been on a date and frankly, I wouldn't let you do that even after a third date. Maybe I will allow you a peck on the cheek. But?—"

"What are you rambling about, female?"

My lashes flutter in confusion.

"Didn't you say you wanted to eat…me? I don't know how that will help you regain your strength, but?—"

"Your blood. I require your blood."

"Oh," I whisper. Heat blooms across my cheeks as embarrassment overtakes me.

I clear my throat.

Okay, so maybe he's a vampire. That would make sense. I've read about some vampiric species residing in Akkaya. Maybe he's just one of them.

"It won't kill me?" I ask, just in case.

I can't believe I'm even entertaining this, but I do need to get out of here, and I kind of owe him too. A bit of blood won't hurt me.

"No. I will not take enough to hurt you."

"Okay. You can feed on me with one condition. You must help me get my PomPom back too," I tell him. That is non-negotiable.

"Fine. I give you my word," he murmurs against my skin. Somehow, his lips have gotten surprisingly close to my flesh.

Goose bumps spread all over my body.

He brushes his lips against my neck. Once, twice. The anticipation increases as my breathing grows shallow.

His mouth parts over my flesh to reveal sharp teeth that softly graze my skin.

I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for the pain.

But even as his razor-sharp incisors penetrate my flesh, there's only a dull hum that slowly blossoms into a warm sensation. His mouth is hot against me, his tongue lapping at my skin as he sucks in the blood flowing from the puncture wounds.

I hold tightly onto his shoulders to ground myself, and I can't help but feel the way his muscles slowly inflate, his body seemingly growing larger with each passing moment, each drop of my blood.

I gasp as I dig my teeth into my bottom lip to keep myself from releasing an embarrassing moan as the heat from the puncture site continues to increase, traveling down my body and making me shamelessly rub myself against him.

Yet just as it starts, it's over.

He pulls back, a few drops of blood glistening on his plump lips.

I lick my own in response.

Feeling for the puncture wounds, I realize they have already healed, the skin smooth as if nothing had happened.

"Thank you," he inclines his head.

The color has returned to his cheeks. His complexion is no longer pale and sickly. There's renewed vigor in his features. His skin is now a bronzed, healthy hue and his eyes a swirling silver where before they were just a dull gray. His body, too, is far larger than before, his muscles rippling with strength.

He moves one arm, then the other and the chains snap in two. He moves his neck forward, and that chain breaks as well.

One by one, he destroys every chain that was holding him in place. When he's done, he pulls me in his arms as he stands up.

"We will get your PomPom now," he decrees.

"Oh. Okay." I nod dazedly.

With a snap of his finger, the door to the cell bursts open.

The moment we step into the hallway, tens of guards line up in the narrow corridor of the dungeon, their swords raised and ready to fight.

"Good Lord," I mutter in shock. "We're going to die."

He doesn't answer me, nor does he seem particularly impressed by the guards' show of force.

Holding me with one arm, he uses the other to move the soldiers aside, parting the crowd as if he were Moses himself. But the guards don't just move to the side. They turn to dust as they hit the wall, leaving the path clear for us to go forward.

I blink in distress that slowly turns to awe.

Did that… Did that just happen? Did he turn people into dust?

It's like I'm in a fantasy movie! My excitement rises and I squeak giddily. Of course, this is not a good thing, nor do I condone violence. But these people were about to commit violence against us—never mind the fact that I was going to be sacrificed for whatever pagan ritual psycho Damian had in mind. I believe this constitutes extenuating circumstances.

My savior continues to turn every guard into dust and I cheer him on, pointing right and left as I see another head our way. The other prisoners clamor as they see us leave the dungeon, and this guy proves that he's not all good looks, he has a heart too as he opens all the cages and lets the rest of the prisoners go.

"My, you're so strong," I murmur as I pat his biceps appreciatively. I guess I should thank Ivan now for putting me in the same cell as my mysterious savior.

As we exit the dungeon, the sun shines brightly in the sky.

I take a big gulp of fresh air. Ah, this feels good.

My good-looking friend does the same, looking up at the sky and closing his eyes, enjoying the light breeze and the way the sunlight streams down his face.

I release a dreamy sigh as I watch his perfect profile. His jaw is so sharp, I could see him on the cover of a romance novel. And with that straight, aristocratic nose, he looks both royal and domineering at the same time.

And he's been nice. To me.

Agh! I'm too giddy for my own good. I need to remember this is a life and death situation and not one of my dreams where I meet my Prince Charming. Going by the way he so easily turns people to dust, he's not exactly a paragon of virtue. But hey, all's fair in war and love.

"Stupid Jocelyn stole my PomPom. We need to go to her quarters," I instruct him before my mind can cook up some more ludicrous scenarios. This is a time for war . Maybe we can save the love aspect for later. I certainly wouldn't mind going on a date with Mr. Turns Everything Into Dust—if he asks, of course.

He grunts an acknowledgment and continues walking.

Anyone coming toward him is rendered to dust.

A black cloud surrounds us, spreading left and right as if it has a life of its own. Dark tentacles tackle the magic users that attack us, shielding us at the same time. Nothing seems to penetrate his dark shield, not the power of the elements nor the blasts of energy coming from the mages.

A few moments later, we're in the castle.

I do my best to instruct him where to turn and which wing might be the right one, but my spatial awareness sucks and we end up getting lost—and getting surrounded by yet another horde of royal guards.

He grits his teeth, growing annoyed with these pesky soldiers. I can't blame him. Even the magic users are no match for his elevated skills—all of which makes me perpetually sigh in wonder at my new friend.

Once he's done killing the rest of the guards, we head to the west wing. It doesn't escape me that he avoids harming women and children, and my admiration for him rises exponentially.

"There, I remember the stairs." I point to the gilded marble stairs Jocelyn and I had taken when we'd gone to the royal quarters.

He nods—he's not a man of many words, but I happen to like the silent, brooding ones—and he takes the gilded stairs.

"What if Damien and Jocelyn are there? They're strong," I say as the thought crosses my mind. They aren't the rulers of Kiya for nothing. They're the strongest mages Akkaya has ever seen. Despite how strong he is, I wouldn't want my savior to get hurt or anything.

My good-looking friend grinds his teeth, a sign he doesn't approve of my assessment. But he doesn't give me a reply, his eyes taking in everything around us.

"I think it was that room." I point to one at the end of the hall. "Oh, no, wait. I think that one." I change my mind, pointing to the opposite. "Or was it that one…"

He doesn't listen to me, striding to a hidden hallway before taking a few more turns and stopping in front of a door.

"What are you…" I trail off. My eyes widen as he wrenches the door from its hinges with the wave of a finger. Going inside, he looks right and left before traversing to yet another room. It's luxurious as I've come to expect from Damien and Jocelyn. There are fluffy chaises everywhere, as well as dog toys and other accessories.

It's at that moment that a cute, familiar sound reaches my ears.

"PomPom!" I exclaim, all but jumping out of his arms as I run toward my poor baby. She sees me too and lets out a sharp bark, running toward me. Her tongue is out, her eyes sparkling with happiness—and maybe a few unshed tears. I know I have plenty.

We meet in the middle. I open my arms and she jumps to my chest, her short legs doing their job for once. She smells so good and she's so fluffy. Jocelyn must have had her bathed. Well, it's the least she could do after stealing my baby, that wretched woman.

PomPom licks my cheek and releases a series of consecutive barks—her way of telling me she missed me.

"Aw, baby girl. Mommy is here," I tell her, hugging her to my chest and letting her warmth sink into my skin.

Another bark echoes in the room, but this time it's not from my PomPom. From under the covers, a head of dark brown fur peeks out, jumping out and running toward us.

Is that…

PomPom whines as she turns her head to the other dog, trying to escape my arms to go to him.

"BonBon, no!" A feminine gasp follows. She rushes forward, stopping in her tracks as she sees my friend behind me. Her eyes widen and she falls to the ground.

"Please don't hurt me. Please…"

She must be BonBon's caretaker. But if that's BonBon… I blink as I look at his fluffy fur that is a mix of black and cream, so different than his description in the books. Yet he's not any less adorable, and my heart melts at his cute expression.

"We need to leave," my good-looking friend says as he spares my PomPom a glance.

As I turn, PomPom's whines become louder just as BonBon barks and attacks me.

Oh no! Did my PomPom fall for him? Did she…

"Tell me you didn't, PomPom," I murmur worriedly.

Her only reply is a whine and a longing glance toward BonBon.

My gaze moves back and forth between the two and I realize I need to make a last-minute decision.

The other woman is still on the floor, mumbling a series of pleas to spare her life but not daring to look at us. I take advantage of that to swipe BonBon in my arms, cuddling him next to PomPom before I go back to my friend.

God, I'm now turning into stupid Jocelyn, the dog stealer. But I have no doubt BonBon will have a better life with me and PomPom—why, they seem to be in love already! I may not have been ready to share my love with another baby, but at the same time, I can't say no to my sweet PomPom.

My good-looking friend takes a look at the extra dog in my arms and rolls his eyes. But as I stop in front of him, he lifts me up in his strong, manly arms, with my two dogs in tow, and proceeds toward the exit.

He's no longer walking. The dark cloud surrounds us, carrying him with it. He hovers over the ground, his posture straight, his face expressionless—and handsome, oh, so handsome.

My, but look what a bit of blood can do to a person. No wonder that vampire face treatment is all the rage in Hollywood. I gaze wistfully at his perfectly sculpted cheeks while he turns some more people into dust. PomPom does the same with BonBon—after all, I taught her well.

He not only saved my life. He saved my PomPom too!

If that's not the definition of swoon , I don't know what is.

As we walk out of the castle, I'm surprised to realize that the only ones who'd put up any fight had been low-level mages. There is no trace of Damien, Jocelyn, Arisa, or Leoni. Not even the King's guard of specialized mages is present. No wonder it was so easy for us to get in and out of the castle.

"Uhm, why is psycho Damien letting us leave just like this? Not that I'm complaining, but he was quite adamant about sacrificing me. It's odd that he would let me go now. You, too. He's been keeping you in those godawful chains for who knows how long and now he's simply letting you escape?"

His lips pull in a thin line. His eyes shrewdly move around the place as he takes inventory of everything. His nostrils flare, the only sign that this bothers him.

"I am not surprised he is not here," he eventually says. "He finally got what he needed from me."

"Huh? What do you mean?" I frown.

"You do not need to concern yourself with that," he replies in a brisk voice, opening one of the windows and flying us out. On his dark cloud, we leave the castle grounds and the fortress of Kiya.

I release a surprised squeak as I realize I am flying —as in, floating in the air over the spectacular buildings of Kiya. Not only do I get to experience my favorite fictional world—okay, granted, it might not be as nice as I thought it would be—but I also get to experience magic.

I. Am. Flying.

I throw my head back and release a bunch of unintelligible noises. PomPom and BonBon do the same. The three of us create a chorus of gibberish as we enjoy this new experience.

Unfortunately, our journey in the clouds is soon over as we touch the ground. We're somewhere in a forest, with tall trees and rich bushes surrounding us. It's sometime in the afternoon based on the position of the sun.

He puts us down before he takes a step back. He stares at me for a moment, his icy gray eyes affixed to mine. My, but in direct sunlight, he's even more good-looking. His bone structure is simply divine, combined with his height, broad shoulders, tapered waist, and long legs. I almost want to fan myself. He's still wearing the tattered clothes from before, so there's not much to be left to the imagination. I might not have been able to see him before, but even then I could feel the hardness of his chest and the dormant muscles that are now rippling with strength—due to my blood, of course.

I bite on my lip. He has my blood! How cool is that? Not that it's cool that he feeds on blood, although I've always had a bit of a soft spot for vampires—not the Edward type, the Lestat one. But he has my blood running through his veins and giving him power. There's something rather wicked and erotic about that and I can't help but release a sigh as I continue to admire him.

No wonder Damien locked him up for years in that cell. He must have been jealous of his god-level good looks. I don't think I've ever seen a man as beautiful as him, and I've watched a lot of TV shows. Why, even K-pop stars don't come anywhere close.

I swallow hard, unable to take my eyes off him. Of course I wouldn't ever notice the guys back home when someone like this was awaiting me somewhere in the universe. Who cares that it's in a fictional world, or that I might have initially mistaken him for a mummy?

It was all fate .

My lashes flutter as a blush climbs up my cheeks. Putting my dogs down, I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear and give him a coy smile.

This is it. This is the moment that happens in every book where the male lead takes one look at the heroine and says mine. He will claim me for his own and we will live happily ever after with PomPom and BonBon, going on double dates and hopping around worlds. I don't have a preference for where we live, as long as it's not here. Not that I don't like it, but I'd rather not live in a plague-ridden land. I'm sure he will agree.

I wait breathlessly as he opens his mouth to speak.

"You are safe now," he starts.

"Yes." I give him a smile as I move closer to him. "I am safe thanks to you ."

He nods.

"Farewell then." With that, he turns to leave.

W-what?