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JULIA
The third floor isn’t what I imagined it would be—not to say I’ve spent a lot of time trying to imagine it. For starters, there isn’t any furniture in the traditional sense. Human pets have been positioned on the floor to act as couches and tables. Dressed in little to nothing, they stay perfectly still on all fours as demons perch on their backsides or place their icy drinks there. Some pets stand in the corner with jackets and hats thrown over them like they’re makeshift coat racks. When a demon is ready to have sex with them, they simply do. There’s no preamble. No foreplay. They seem to take what they want, finish, then reposition their pets like nothing happened, continuing their conversations with their friends.
Downstairs, the humans all seemed to be enjoying their time here, but on this floor their faces are monotonous—like there’s nothing going on inside their brains. I realize why quickly enough.
The asshole who brought me here grips my shoulders, those sharp black claws digging into my bare skin. “You won’t make a sound while you’re here. You won’t smile. You won’t move. The only time you’re to speak is when someone asks you to.”
Quickly, I work my face into one of neutrality, just like a good, glamoured pet would do. Still, the feel of cum on my skin is enough to make my fingers twitch, the urge to wipe it off an ever-present temptation. Maybe once I’m safe and Daemon is free, I’ll do something equally abhorrent to this creature—or maybe I’ll do something worse. I once read about some archaic torture method called “the boats”, where people would be slathered in honeyed milk, crammed between two rowboats, and allowed to fester there, being eaten by rats and insects.
Honestly, that sounds pretty good right about now. And of course, since he’s a demon, he wouldn’t even die.
The demon walks away, leaving me standing awkwardly in front of the elevator, presumably to hunt down the master I don’t have. Other incubi pass by me, paying me no heed, like I’m no different from all the other human furniture in the room. All the while, I take the time to stare at each one, waiting, hoping, for the grounding stone to vibrate. It doesn’t.
“Someone had a good time with this one,” one of the incubi says, speaking in Infernal. It takes a moment for me to parse the words, but I manage, translating them silently in my head. He’s with a group of friends—all wearing tailored suits similar to Daemon’s. Well, not exactly similar. His are much nicer.
The demon steps up to me, walking in a slow circle around my mostly naked body.
“That’s rude,” he says when he spots my chastity belt.
A moment later, his enormous hand cups between my thighs, and I force myself to keep my head forward, my expression detached. Calluses and claws graze my skin as he rubs the metal, prodding for a way through it. Finally, the creature wraps his fingers around the lock and tugs; it takes everything in me not to collapse at the sheer strength of him. But the lock holds, and somehow my knees do too.
The man turns to his three friends. “Angel-touched silver. Her master must really hate the idea of us playing with her,” he says. Then to me, he whispers, “That’s no fair bringing you here, then. Is it?”
Obviously, I don’t answer.
Not expecting me to, the incubus snaps his fingers, and all the half-dried bodily fluid vanishes from my face and chest. God, the relief is instantaneous. But it’s also short-lived. The room whirls as he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder like a sack of rice, then returns to the others.
“Finders keepers,” he says to them. “We can still take her to the sleep rooms and have our fun there.”
“That’s not as good as actual pussy and you know it,” his friend snaps.
Sleep rooms?
Before I realize what’s happening, I’m in the elevator again and the door is closing with four incubi crammed inside it. Wall to wall muscle presses against me, my face shoved into someone’s stomach. No. I’m not finished with the third floor yet. I still have names to cross off.
But they don’t care about my mission, and I’m in no position to fight them.
When the doors open again, it’s to the fourth and final floor of the club, and again, it’s nothing like the others. It’s eerily quiet up here—nothing but a sea of never-ending hallways and doors. Glass windows overlook what I can only assume to be individual rooms, each covered by bedroom curtains that look like they came from Earth. Blue and pink polka dots. Tie-dye. Floral patterns that might’ve been popular when my dad was young.
A round light hovers over the doors. From what I can tell, there are only two colors it changes to—red or green. Vacant or full. My demon captors carry me toward one of the green-lit doors with frilly pink curtains covering the window. As they cross the threshold, the lights inside dim to a dull yellow. On a nightstand in the corner is a single lamp, also pink.
This room looks entirely too Earth-like, and I can’t help but wonder if the designer mimicked it off a real-life location. Soft white carpet squishes underneath the demons’ designer shoes as they carry me toward a large pink bed filled with silk accent pillows. Another nightstand sits on the left-hand side, a Bible on top, and I can’t stop the goosebumps that pebble my body, the shiver that rolls through it.
“You like this room, huh?” The demon holding me asks.
As his friends toss off the pillows, he lays me on the soft bed, smoothing my arms and legs over it in whatever position he finds most pleasing. “Curtains open or closed?” his friend asks.
“Open. I like it when others watch.”
Since I can’t turn my head, I hear rather than see the curtains slide apart, exposing me to the infinite hallways and whoever stumbles down them. Beside me, a drawer slides open on one of the nightstands, and my captor flashes what looks like a gum box in his hand. Popping it open, a clear strip of… something… comes into view.
“Open wide,” he says. “It’ll help you sleep.”
For a moment, I hesitate, because what happens if I take it? How long will it put me to sleep? Could these demons hold me in this room forever, feeding on me until I die?
God, I can’t do this. It’s too much. Too risky.
