PROLOGUE
Drip. Drip. Drip.
What was that noise?
Drip...drip.
A tapping. Something rhythmic.
A groan slipped from Casimir’s lips.Make it stop. But it wouldn’t.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The tapping was right beside his ear. A relentless drumbeat. Forcing his eyes open, he looked at the stone ceiling. The dripping still would not cease. It was going to drive him mad. His gaze followed the droplet of water as it fell from above, hitting his head.
Over and over and over again.
A violent shiver racked his body, chains rattling. His shoulders ached, his arms pulled taut above him.
Where was he?
Time had vanished. Did it ever even exist?
He shuddered, forcing himself to look around.
A cave. He was in a cave. But why?
The cavern was dark, his vision fuzzy. His headpounded, throbbed. Another groan as he tried to remember. But the memories slipped away the moment he tried to grasp them, like ink on wet paper, blurring and running together. He was supposed to do something…But he forgot.
He forgot everything.
Goosebumps peppered his arms. But he wasn’t cold. He was hot. An inferno on his skin, yet he couldn’t stop shivering. Fever. He had a fever. Was he wearing clothing? He didn’t think so. He looked down. Oh. Pants, but nothing else.
Bruises upon bruises upon bruises covered his torso. Open wounds. Cuts and burns. Some of them festered with infection. A canvas of agony and torment.
And the smell. Excrement and mold hung thick in the air as Casimir tried to take a deep breath.
Ouch.
Breathing felt like thorns in his lungs and knives in his sides. Everything fucking hurt. Maybe he was going to die. Perhaps he was already dead.
Footsteps, slow and steady, echoed far off in the cave.
Someone was coming.
A torch on the wall illuminated the figure emerging from the darkness. Raven hair and icy blue eyes, wearing all black with his hands clasped behind his back. Who was he?
Casimir couldn’t remember that either.
“Still hanging on, I see,” the man said, his voice smooth and sensual, yet full of power. Full of something dark. Ancient. Vile.
Who was this man? Familiar. He was…familiar.
Casimir had a vague recollection of shadows and screams. His own screams. Searing pain. Feminine laughter. The smell of burning flesh. The taste of copper on his tongue. A wave of nausea almost overtook him at the memories.
But as he stared into those blue eyes, another image took shape. This same man, holding a woman. Shadows writhed around her. Strawberry blonde hair and the greenest eyes.Terror on her face. A knife to her throat. A whimper as she trembled.
What happened?
