Hotbloods (Hotbloods #1)(14)

As we closed the final feet between us and the last door, my ears picked up on something other than the persistent protests of pain. There was murmuring coming from the room—which meant other people were in there—but there was also the sound of… crackling?

It sounded like the crackling of flames.

“It’s all right,” a deep voice spoke from within. “It’s almost over.”

“Just think,” a second voice added, “one more day, and it will be done. You’ll never have to go through this again.”

“You’re doing better than we could have hoped, Ronad,” a third voice spoke. “Hang in there.”

Ronad?

More groans interspersed the comforting statements, and my curiosity reached the breaking point. I strode forward, gripped the handle, and pushed the door, springing it open wide and granting the three of us full view of the room.

Nothing could have prepared me for what we saw.

I had to be hallucinating.

I frowned, then closed my eyes and blinked several times, trying to shake myself to my senses, but when I opened my eyes, the scene was unchanged.

I glanced at Angie and Lauren, and from the look of utter shock on their faces, I realized they saw it too.

A fire roared in a hearth in the center of the room, beside which stood a small stand holding a round glass container, filled with reddish orange liquid. Huddled near the stand and in front of the fire were four men, bare from the waist up. At least, “men” was the first term my brain spat out for what they were. Unlike any man I had ever seen—or unlike any human for that matter—these men had skin the shade of ash, literally gray in color, and… wings. Two broad, black wings that protruded from beneath their shoulder blades, except for one man who was lying on his back closest to the fire, supported by some sort of stretcher—he appeared to have only one wing.

Lauren let out a string of curse words and stepped back, while Angie and I remained rooted to the spot. All we could do was gape.

The men whipped around at Lauren’s movement, and I recognized three of them instantly—the three men we’d met earlier, outside the fence. Only, earlier they’d looked like bronzed gods, rather than some kind of ash demons from hell.

My gaze locked on the taller man, whose eyes had darkened to thunderous storm clouds. His jaw went slack as he stared at us, apparently as shocked to see us here as we were to see them, and a hard look came over his face, one so stony and unreadable it frightened me.

The next thing I knew, an arm as rigid and strong as iron had locked around my waist, pushing me backward, and then the floor disappeared from underneath me. I felt the sensation of intense heat around my midriff, where the arm was holding me, as well as against my back, which was suddenly pressed against something smooth yet rock hard. It was all I could do to not cry out at the surge of heat flooding through my veins, before my stomach dropped, and the last breath was knocked from my lungs.

I soared off the ground and flashed through the corridor and into one of the open doorways at what felt like lightning-speed, then landed with a thud that caused whatever strength I had left in my knees to leave me. The iron arm released me, the heat relinquishing along with it. I sank to the floor, gasping for air, and felt my two friends collapse on either side of me.

When I looked up barely a second later, the door to the room slammed shut, followed by the sound of a bolt being drawn.

We’d been thrown into one of the dusty rooms cluttered with old furniture. I scrambled to my feet and darted to the door, slamming against it, yanking the handle. It wouldn’t budge.

“Help me!” I wheezed, panic setting my brain alight.

This couldn’t be happening. We couldn’t be stuck in here. With these… I didn’t even know what they were.

My friends rushed to help me, but no matter how hard we slammed our fists or kicked against it, the door wouldn’t move.

I paused, holding up a hand to indicate to Angie and Lauren to do the same. I took a deep breath and pressed my ear against the door, listening, half fearing what I would hear.

Someone was murmuring. Were it not for the heated tone of the conversation, I doubted I would be able to make out the words. As it was, I could, just about…

My friends followed my lead, pressing their ears against the wood, and I gazed at them with wide eyes, one finger over my lips as I strained to hear.

“It doesn’t matter,” one of them spoke. “They’ve seen us, Navan!”

“I am aware,” came the growled response.

“So what do we do? We can’t keep them locked in there forever.”

“We have no choice for the time being,” a distinct third voice replied, similar in tone to Navan’s. They all had similar, hard-to-place accents.

“I wonder how much of a problem it would be if we just… smothered them,” a fourth voice added, and our breath caught in our throats.

“Forget it, Ianthan,” Navan’s deep growl returned. “You know that’s against my code… We’ll have to give them Elysium.”

“Elysium? Do we know if that will even work on humans?”

“It will. It just requires the right concentration.”

Elysium? Work on humans? What are these men?

It seemed that Lauren couldn’t take it anymore. “Please, let us out!” she cried, and began banging against the door with her fists. “I swear, whoever you are, we won’t breathe a word! Just let us go!”