Page 183 of Bitten & Burned
I gasped, or tried to. The air clawed its way into my lungs, thick and sour.
I was lying on something hard—smooth stone, I thought. A thin blanket was laid beneath me. My coat was gone. My gloves. My bag. My rings.
And the moment I tried to sit up, the pain flared again, sharp and immediate, blazing across my thigh like a brand pressed fresh to skin.
I choked on a sob. And that’s when I felt it.
I reached for my neck.
The chain wasthere.
My fingers closed around it before my mind could catch up.
The amulet. It was lying hot against my collarbone. Too warm to be from body heat alone.
I had brought it with me. He’d found it in my bag.
He’d taken it back.
No—
I’d played right into his hands.
I forced my eyes open.
The light in the room was gray, filtered through narrow tower windows covered in enchanted glass. Mist pressed up against the panes. The walls were stone, smooth and bare. A heavy iron-banded door stood across the room, sealed shut.
There were no visible locks.
I tried to move and had to bite my tongue not to scream as I did. There was no way. I couldn’t stand. I couldn’t crawl. I couldn’t drag myself.
It didn’t matter that the door wasn’t locked. I wasn’t getting out.
Not without help.
I stared miserably at the window. The gray light was still there. That meant… fuck, my brain was so foggy, I couldn’t figure out what time it was. It was still daytime. Which meant Quil didn’t even know where I was.
No way to track me. No way out.
I couldn’t cry. At least, I didn’t think I could. Or maybe I already was.
The door creaked open, the sound grating and painful.
I didn’t bother turning my head. I couldn’t. But I knew it was him. The click of his boots on stone gave him away. The steps were unhurried and confident.
Silas made it halfway across the room before speaking.
“I was beginning to worry the spell would hold too long. But look at you—still fighting. Always so stubborn.”
I made a sound—more breath than voice.
With a quiet hum, he crouched beside me. I couldn’t see himclearly from this angle, but I could feel him watching me. I could feel the weight of his gaze. Not hungry nor cruel.
Worse.
Patient.
Silas reached into his coat pocket and pulled something small and shimmering. A rune-marked stone. He rolled it between his fingers and murmured a soft phrase—just two syllables, spoken like a lover’s name. “Impresor Nox.”
