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She placed his hand against her chest. “What do you think?”

The swivel of her ass against his thighs coiled a feverish heat low in his abdomen. He grabbed at her hip with his free hand to still her.

Draven’s mouth fell open, ready to demand what had gotten into her, but no words surfaced as the realization washed over him—he didn’t care. He knew he should, and even now there was an inkling inside that desperately told him to keep her at a distance. That there was something wrong with craving her touch this much…

Lilith bit her bottom lip, and all apprehension and worry drifted to an afterthought as he pictured his teeth dragging in place of hers. Draven sat up, closing their distance so much he almost got his chance to. She snickered, molding herself to him so her cheek was against his, voice grazing his ear.

“You didn’t answer me.”

Answer… Answer what? Gliding his hand down to her leg, he found the slit of her robe and slipped his hand under to caress her skin. Lilith sucked in a breath, and he grabbed at her thigh, squeezing hard.

“Closer,” she teased, pressing her lips gently against his jaw.

Draven groaned as he trailed his hand up the lithe curves of her body to the back of her neck and pulled her away from him. Lips parted, she looked about as aroused as he was, but her complexion was colorless while he knew his was on fire.

“Show me,” he murmured.

Lilith’s smile was exquisitely mischievous as she guided his hand low. Draven’s gaze followed, his drumming heart overtaking his hearing when she pushed his touch under the torn fabric of the robe. Her breath caught when his fingers pressed to her stomach, slowly moving his hand over her navel and between the subtle swell of her breasts.

“Do you feel it now?”

Draven’s splayed fingers peeked out from under the loose neckline of the robe. A moment of clarity snuck its way to the surface.

Her pulse. Where was her pulse?

Lilith brought her other hand behind his head, drawing him close again. Draven nestled his face into the crook of her neck, allowing himself to drown in her scent.

“I forgive you.”

Pain ripped into him—pinching, stabbing, unbearable. Draven cried out, pushing Lilith who clung to him with inhuman strength. She clawed at whatever she could reach, teeth buried in his neck. He finally pried her off at what sounded like the seamless tear of fabric. Draven scrambled backwards up the dais with one hand clutching the bite. Lilith stared up at him from the bottom. Eyes completely overtaken by her Flare, she clung onto the steps, looking more like a feral animal than human. She smiled, thick blood staining her teeth and trickling from her lips down her chin.

Draven’s stomach lurched, and his hearing faded with his vision. He fought to stay conscious as Lilith stalked up toward him on her hands and knees. He slipped and opened his eyes to two other women. Three, no, four, all creeping around the room one moment, then gone the next.

There was a cackle in the dark, then another, and another. Draven’s head collided with the hard stone, and he was no longer able to move. A swarm of violet-eyed beings giggled, neither human nor animal, coming upon him from all sides, shredding into him with fingers that were almost claws and teeth that were almost fangs. The pain peaked, then faded to nothing.

Blinding light rushed in with the rest of the world. The crackling of wildfire filled his ears beside his vision. His chest heaved with hysterical breaths while he struggled to ground himself.

Ash was all he could see. No lighted life. No whipping wind. Only spoiled air.

“Draven?”

The voice was garbled, but familiar. Draven lifted himself from the ground, displacing the layer of ash coating his body. On his feet, he meandered through the haze, following the voice’s echo. A silhouette appeared ahead of him. Draven froze.

Caine.

Taller than he was moments ago and wearing silver plated, gold tinted armor, he staggered in his direction. Draven called out to him and sped to a run, but he vanished behind a swell of fire.

“For Eizreth,” a voice whispered.

Draven spun around, straight into a pair of empty eyes.

It looked like Caine, only hollow. A dark fluid leaked from the corners of the black sockets where his eyes should’ve been. He turned toward him, gagging on something when he parted his lips, the black murk flowing from a large hole at the base of his throat.

What happened to him? He gripped Caine’s arms, his fingers sinking into them as if they were wet soil. The shell of Caine fell into Draven’s chest. He wrapped his arms around his younger brother, the movement of his hands over his head pulling away clumps of hair.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

Draven’s chest tingled, then turned electric right before the heat. Blood pooled in his mouth, and his lungs couldn’t gather air. He moved away from Caine, but he too was gone. In his place was himself. Shadows billowed around the dark reflection, eyes swirling with the energy of gods that didn’t belong to him.