Page 2 of Hell Sent

He hated this—the sense of losing control. The need to thrust and climax and feed threatened to overcome him, and he feared he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. He was torn between resisting it and submitting to it.

In a moment of weakness, he let himself reach up and hold one of Nariel’s breasts. She was soft and supple, her warm flesh giving in his grasp. Privately, he thought there was something wonderful about touching soft things. Most things in the hells were hard or rough or sharp.

Instead of rebuking him, Nariel smirked. She clenched around his cock, her thighs squeezing him. Her body undulated as she worked to wring pleasure from him.

His eyes fluttered closed and his hands clenched on her thigh and her breast as he reached climax. He thrust to her deepest point, anchoring himself to her, basking in her body. Through the haze of the orgasm, he felt her leaning closer.

And then pain ripped through him.

He roared, snapping back to reality in an instant. Her black hair shrouded his face, obstructing his vision, but he felt her sharp teeth buried in his neck, ripping violently. She clenched her jaw, cutting through flesh, and he felt his own hot blood pouring over his skin.

He tried to push her away, but she grabbed his wrists and slammed them to the ground. Her legs were tangled in his, holding him down. Her teeth were cutting through him inch by inch.

He dispelled his false arm from beneath her grasp, and she pitched forward, surprised. In its place, he summoned another, this time sharpening its fingers to daggerlike points, and stabbed it toward her.

Nariel flinched, black blood streaming from her cheek and dripping from her teeth. There was a shallow cut from her ear to her nose. Azreth struck again, fighting through fiery agony to sling a flurry of magical knives at her.

As she ducked and swatted at the knives, Azreth scrambled backward, clutching his throat. He was already too late. His neck was open from ear to ear, and he could see—hear—blood spurting from an open artery. He tried to speak, and nothing came out of his mouth except blood.

His fingers slipped in the streaming blood as he forced magic into the wound. As he focused on the healing spell, he lost control of the summoned knives attacking Nariel, and they dissolved, but the bleeding started to slow. The edges of the tear began to seal over, but then Nariel dove for him again.

He leapt backward, but her fist caught his chin, knocking him sideways. Her hands clamped around his damaged throat, and she wrestled him to the ground.

She said nothing. There was no explanation, no apology, not even any gloating. Just cruelty, fear, and hunger.

He waved a hand, magic crackling at his fingers but not quite coalescing into a spell before she hit his hand away. His vision pulsed black as she choked him, and he curled his fingers into a fist, forcing magic to bend to his will as he fought to stay conscious.Nariel drew back her fist, about to deal what would undoubtedly be a killing blow. Azreth thrust his spell forward.

A magenta blade speared through one side of her head and out the other.

She went still, her eyes suddenly empty and unfocused.Her fingers twitched on him, their hold still tight, as if they’d been frozen in death.

Azreth struggled out from beneath her and shoved her aside, gasping for breath. He let the blade dissolve as he refocused his magic on healing his throat. Slowly, his flesh began knitting back together. Coughing, he spat out a dark clot of blood and ran his fingers gingerly over the ragged gash. It was still bleeding, but it would stop soon.

Nariel’s eyes had gone cold and dark, their glow almost extinguished. Azreth considered her, scowling. He could have left her where she lay, to serve as a warning to others. But the body would attract scavengers, and more importantly, it would smell.

Snarling, he picked her up. As he stood, his knees almost gave out from under him. All the energy he’d gained from her had immediately been used to fight her, and now he was even more drained than before.

His feet slid in loose sand as he trudged down the hillside toward the river bank behind his shelter. Nariel drooped lifelessly in his arms, her head bouncing against his chest.

He had no right to be angry. This was his own fault. She’d sensed him lowering his guard, and she’d taken advantage, as anyone would have. He’d given in to the temptation to trust her, and he’d made a target of himself. It was like dangling a baby nyx in front of a velraven.

He dropped her beside the river of flame, then knelt next to her, panting from exertion. The river oozed, waves of heat rising from its molten surface.

If he thought about it, he supposed that he had liked her—as much as he could like anyone. Her presence had been a threat, but it had also been a break in the emptiness of the wasteland and the vast solitude that was his life. He wasn’t happy she was dead.

He pushed her over the edge of the bank, and the liquid fire slowly carried her away.Resisting the urge to stare after her, he waded into the fire to wash away the blood sticking to his skin.

For a long time, he sat on the river bank, occasionally clearing his throat and spitting up more blood. He watched the crimson sky churn with storms, clouds racing towards the horizon.

Sitting out in the open like this was another luxury he hadn’t earned. Anyone could come upon him and kill him before he could defend himself. But he did not look up to make sure no flying creatures were descending on him. He didn’t glance over his shoulder to make sure there was no one coming up behind him, even though he was in a vulnerable position at the bottom of a hill. In fact, he closed his eyes, shutting out the world. The bubbling of the river obstructed his hearing. If anything else came upon him, he wouldn’t know until it was too late, and he would die.

Survival was tiresome.

And yet, when he heard a sound to his left, he spun, ready to fight for his life again.

The sound was an odd hissing, like steam jetting from a volcanic vent. Upriver, a shimmer had appeared in midair. Before his eyes, it grew, the sound increasing to a harsh whine.

The shimmer turned into a window to somewhere else. Wind and magic poured through it, hitting Azreth in bursts. Through the window, two male faces appeared, staring back at him. They were close together, almost fighting over space to peer through the small opening.

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