The other man stiffened in front of him and Cullen wondered again if he'd somehow heard the thought.
But they made it to the next floor down without injury and soon enough they were walking down a new hallway, just as empty and cold as before. He tried to keep track of every twist and turn as Leviathan led him through this strange palace, but it was quickly becoming impossible.
And the eerie red glow that seemed to seep into the air around them from the walls made him nervous. The air was stale and tainted with smoke and each new wall was gray and layered with sharp points every few inches. If he were to touch one he was sure it would cut him.
How could somebody feel comfortable in a place like this? How could Leviathan call this place home, demon or not?
His eyes flicked down to his own hands. The hands that had had claws and had dug deep grooves into Leviathan’s face. Grooves that were healed now, naturally. Cullen’s gazelingered too long on his face, his own pinching unhappily with the knowledge that the wounds were already gone. Leviathan smiled suddenly and side-eyed him, so Cullen whipped his gaze away, swallowing hard against the ache in his throat.
The next turn in the long string of hallways had him pausing with a jolt of surprise. They’d finally entered a room. Or what could only be described as one.
It was a wide space, with tall walls and a ceiling that disappeared into darkness far above. That strange red light was seeping up through the floor, washing the room in red waves like bloody fog.
Several large archways led off into other dark hallways and across the room, on a raised dais of bones, sat a massive throne. It was a wide chair, made of bones molded together with sharp juts coming out of it here and there and an aura of absolute death surrounding it.
The dark throne of a god.
Cullen exhaled shakily and Leviathan turned to look at him. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
No. No, it was fucking terrifying. A throne of a dark god in a realm that belonged to him, with the monster standing just beside him, looking proud of himself. His legs shook and his head began to spin. He didn’t even have the strength to object as Leviathan wound a tight arm around his waist, dragging him closer.
“Calm down, pet.” He murmured against his temple. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Tears choked his already thick throat. He squeezed his eyes closed to shut it all away. The pain of being away from his friends, his family. The fear of this room. That sweet scent that was rolling off of Leviathan and making him feelso dizzy…
He shoved away from him and turned back the way they had come.
“Where are you going?” Leviathan demanded.
“I…I changed my mind. I need…to sleep.” It wasn’t completely a lie. He had been up for days. Crying and crying, his mind racing through the memories again and again. And when it had all begun to merge together in a big ball of fucking disaster, he had cried over other things. His friends, most likely dead after that building collapsed on them. Dom striking at him and trying to kill him. His relationship with Walker being over in just about the worst possible way it could have ended… He had not slept. Had not moved away from that hard spot on the floor. Hewasexhausted. And he could hardly fight his way out of here without a clear mind and a strong body.
After a long moment, Leviathan murmured. “Very well. We’ll continue this tomorrow.”
The threat in the words made him feel sick.
9
He barely got two feet before Leviathan was at his side again.
“Leave me alone!” He snapped, wincing when his voice cracked. He tasted blood in his mouth.
“You don’t know your way back to the room yet.” Leviathan murmured, resting a hand on his lower back. “I can–”
Cullen slapped him away again and spun to face him, his teeth snapping together with a low snarl. He tried not to think about how inhuman the sound was.
“Don’t…fucking…touch me.” He spat, putting as much venom into the words as he could.
A muscle twinged in Leviathan’s jaw but he only gave a small nod and held up his hands. “I just want to take you back to–”
“It’s your room…isn’t it?” He demanded. It had been pretty obvious with the luxury, with the flashiness of the space. Not to mention it had smelled like him. Like that stupid deep, intense sweetness that made his head spin. “I don’t want…to stay there. I want…my own space.”
The smile finally died away from Leviathan’s mouth. “Why?”
His mouth opened, a scream of rage building in his throat–but it broke off with a rough burst of coughing, his hand going to his injured throat as he gagged on blood.
Leviathan made a sound that undeniably meant he was amused. And smug. The bastard.
“Fine.” He agreed, surprising him. “Your own room.” He gestured for him to follow him as he started back down the curving hallways. Cullen followed slowly, rubbing at his throat. How long would it take to heal?
