I turned around, grateful that I was able to see, thanks to the wall lights that were glass globes hanging by chains from fancy arched brackets. Of course, it turned out to be a staircase and the only thing that had been missing from the ground floor, no longer making me wonder how people had gotten up there. Well, now I knew, and hopefully it meant this was where I would find the most important people. Namely one…
Wyedari Oblivion.
The one name I had, and the only one who seemed capable of helping me right now. Although I had to admit, without havingthe little demon stalker with me, this was going to be a much harder sell when it came to explaining myself.
“Only one way to find out,” I told myself as I made my way up the stairs and through the door at the top. This level opened into a space far more luxurious than anything below, but there the opulence lay something deeply unsettling. A sense that none of it had been crafted with mortal comfort in mind.
Everything here spoke of two things in equal measure, gothic excess and immeasurable wealth, but it was the kind of wealth that felt ancient, predatory, and earned through means I doubted any human could survive. The room resembled a billionaire’s private indulgence only at first glance, because the longer I stood there, the more it felt like a domain curated for creatures who did not need to pretend to be human at all.
There were staff on duty, real staff, but none of them moved quite right. Half-naked women, exotic in a way that felt unnatural, prowled the space with slow, fluid confidence. Glossy black trays held aloft at shoulder height as if weight meant nothing to them.
Their beauty was flawless to the point of excess, too perfect, too deliberate, as though each had been designed rather than born. Small black tasseled dresses clung to their bodies like ceremonial adornments rather than clothing, leaving skin exposed in a way that felt less seductive and more declarative. An offering rather than an invitation.
They looked like they belonged on the covers of glossy magazines, yet there was something in their eyes that made it clear they were not there for admiration, and certainly not for men like those who lusted after Slutbag Jennifer.
They looked as if they were part of the room itself, extensions of the power that ruled this place. More like living proof that mortals were never meant to feel welcome here, only tolerated, if at all. As for the rest, well, it was clear to see that all eyes led toone place, and one I couldn’t have seen from downstairs as it had been directly above the entrance below.
And there, my gaze was drawn to a raised platform, three shallow steps lifting it above the rest of the room, an elevation that immediately set it apart. Every other seat had been arranged in careful arcs around it, their placement far too intentional to be coincidental. The realization settled heavily in my chest that the space had been designed to funnel attention inward, to focus everything toward the center. Toward the throne.
It was unmistakably demonic in nature, not merely a seat but a statement of dominance, positioned so that whoever occupied it would never need to move to command the room. From that height, the figure seated there would be visible to all, elevated just enough to remind everyone present of their place. This wasn’t a stage meant for performance, but for judgment, power, and submission, and as I took it in, I understood with chilling certainty that nothing in this room happened without the will of the one who ruled from that throne.
The one man I knew I was here to see.
The only problem now was…
He fucking terrified me!
9
OH, LORDY BE
“Fuck,”I whispered on a frightful breath, one that left me all at once. Because now I knew why I had seen that seemingly random vision. A vision that hadn’t been random at all. No,it had been a warning.A warning I hadn’t listened to. Just like I foolishly hadn’t listened to Bo. Because he had known. He had known what I would find here, and now I was faced with this demonic god on the throne… Well,I finally got it.
I finally understood.
Understood the danger I was in.
I started backing away and, as if he felt my presence, he lifted his head and turned toward me. That was also when I realized that the other doorman, the one I had first encountered, was now there at his side speaking with him. No doubt alerting him to my presence, something that may have been my intention when I first entered this place, but now…it just felt dangerously naïve.
Because I knew that I had made a huge mistake! That this dark Lord finding me here was the very last thing I wanted.
Which was why, in a heartbeat, my mind quickly adjusted to trying to make a life with Bo work. Because getting rid of him was not worth the risk.
I knew that now.
I quickly turned and started walking back the way I had come, hoping the rage demon below had calmed his ass down and decided all he needed was a stiff drink.
Of course, my escape would have been more successful had I not suddenly found myself faced with two men standing in my way.
One of which had a face full of metal, as anywhere the face could be pierced, it was. All along the bridge of his nose was a ladder of bars, each with spikes on the ends. Something that seemed to be a continuing theme, like the three spikes framed under his bottom lip and the spike through his septum. Then there were two at his cheeks, and a row of spikes that framed each eyebrow. In fact, I couldn’t help but wonder if his name was Spike. Weirdly, I hoped it was, or it was such a waste if it wasn’t.
As for the other guy, he was every inch the intimidating henchman, with a single plait of black hair running down the center of his head, the sides shaved bare. His skin was covered in tattoos, including his head and face, and where the first man favored spikes, this one’s chosen theme seemed to be thunderbolts.
Black lightning strikes were painted all over his skin, making me wonder what the guy would look like naked. The thought was prompted by the obvious abundance of muscle, as, well, it had to be said that I was a sucker for a big guy. However, this time, it wasn’t his muscular body that held my attention, but the ink itself. The unspoken question of how much of it was truly etched into his skin rather than painted on. Even so, more than anything else, all I wanted was to get the fuck out of here! A hope that felt increasingly unrealistic now that I was standing face toface with two thugs who looked like they’d been planted there specifically to make sure I was going nowhere.
“Going somewhere, human?” the tattooed giant asked, the man I’d privately named Thunder, as if giving him a title made the situation any easier.
I gave them both a nervous giggle, shrugging my shoulders before I suddenly made a run for it. However, running away didn’t exactly go to plan, just like everything else on this fucking day!
