Chapter 31

She picked the nails?

Who in their right mind or their wrong one would ever pick nails for an unknown task in Rai's Labyrinth?

Sela would, of course.

Because they had something to do with Theron . Some inside secret between just the two of them. She thought she was tiptoeing around it, as if in any universe I wouldn't pick up on that fact.

It was with great discipline that I managed to hide the wicked grin from my lips. My old friend wanted to keep his distance, and I'd never seen a more perfect opportunity to force his hand. Her fondness for him was nothing short of precious, if a task tailored around nails and a hammer was a risk she was willing to take in hopes of seeing him again.

I'd already been thrown off by the fact that he'd marked her, which was far beyond his obligations to simply track the tribute. I might have chocked it up to a strange accident and assumed he only let the mating bond remain because he'd expected her to die without needing to perform a barbaric rejection ritual, but this didn't feel that one sided and impersonal anymore. Listening to Sela subtly pine for the Dream Weaver in his absence was as nauseating as listening to Theron lie about his feelings.

But I most certainly had the advantage here.

If I knew anything about those scars—which, considering they were typically reserved for my kind, I knew quite a bit—it was the fact that he could feel every little thing I did to her so long as I was directly touching them.

How convenient that he put them on her wrists.

I would assume touching the sharp point to her marks would be enough to summon him, but just in case he chose to be difficult, I had a feeling I knew what kind of call he wouldn't be able to ignore. The maze's challenges had been well synced with my own best interests this time around, so whatever deviant demand Rai manifested this round would likely be the perfect opportunity to test it.

This was nice. Pleasant even. Getting to play with Sela was surprisingly delightful, both for her spirit and her deviance. It was only icing on the cake that Theron and I could bond over something again, and I could get out a lifetime of frustration, all in one fell swoop. This sweet little tribute would be the perfect chance to work out some of my old wounds while letting her create some new ones on me all her own.

Though I had to say, I'd never seen the Yellow Sector demand such sexual options, but perhaps even Rai had needs. The repressed devil couldn't possibly be attracted to Sela, I wouldn't think, but whatever had put him in such knots that his subconscious was playing with a tribute's pleasure instead of her pain must have been an interesting story, indeed.

"Why the nails?" I asked, approaching her on silent, catlike steps. I no longer bothered to rein in my predatory instincts. "That seems risky."

"Because the nails are me." She confessed in a way that made the words feel more like an accident. I was taken aback while she continued twirling the nail gently over one of her marks. "They're not Theron. They're me ." She chewed on her lip while keeping her head down, as if she was ashamed of such a thing. But to be honest, that was the most interesting thing to come out of her mouth since I'd met her. The serum had all but completely cleared from my system now, yet I'd not lost any of my infatuation with the woman.

Heh. What's one more trauma bond in a lifetime of chaos.

As much as I wanted to ask for an explanation, this little revelation was interrupted by the new message slowly sparking across the shimmering golden walls.

One nail each.

Then one nail more.

"What does that mean?" Her gaze was fixated on the metal in her hand, while mine was squarely on the clock that had appeared beside the words. A full hour was set into the analog face. But it hadn't started ticking yet. It wouldn't until it finished telling us the task. Which meant there was more to this message.

One woman's trauma is another man's toy.

But what if the man is also another man's toy?

Cryptic. But also still lacking in instruction. And I sure as fuck hope that wasn't referring to me being anyone's toy.

A second clock appeared, this one set for two hours.

With all the tools you have at hand, join as one, and take a stand.

Should the man come out to play, the golden path will show you the way.

My eyes narrowed. The first clock began counting down in my periphery as I moved my gaze from the girl to the hammer to the nails to those conveniently shaped dots on her wrist. That was all the information we'd be getting it seemed.

That was all I needed.

I just wanted one last verification before I did something this woman might never, ever forgive me for.

"Sela, sweetie," I started, low, disarming, and nonchalant. "Why don't you tell me how you got those scars?" Despite the fact that she considered the contents of the box a part of her , she still somehow associated it with him . I needed to know the exact connection.

She froze, her only movement in the trembling of her lip. "It was just a dream."

There it is.

"That's what I thought." My wide grin bore all of my fangs for the defenseless woman, trapped in this golden box with a monster. Claws extended from my fingers, and I gave her but a single breath to brace herself. I waited for that delicious shock in her widening eyes, before I grabbed her by the shoulder, and slammed her body into the enclosure of this metallic yellow maze.

After all, who has the time to hesitate, when the only way forward is to take what's clearly yours?