Chapter 2 #2
Blackwell, the son of the Greek deity Hades, looked very much the part of an underworld god.
His dangerous muscular frame was somehow even larger than the other two, making me feel almost overwhelmed by the size of these men compared to me.
No, seriously, this man—sorry, nightmare—had to be easily 6’9”…
not taller than that though, right? That would be absurd.
I honestly couldn’t even estimate after some point because it was ridiculous.
Yea, I had a thing for tall, muscular guys. Sue me.
I couldn’t help but greedily look over his darkly suited frame that almost had a classic old-fashioned look to it, with pin stripes and a handkerchief folded perfectly in the pocket.
His olive skin tone complemented his slicked-back, oil-colored hair and brought attention to the angry scar that interrupted his left brow.
When his black eyes met mine, they flashed gold momentarily before his face went back to a neutral emotional state.
One I knew was bullshit, because his eyes only turned gold when he was turned on or furious.
The rest of the time, his eyes seared into you like voids that were inspecting every inch of your soul with disdain.
Something that should have bothered me, but considering I knew what he was really thinking…
it didn’t. In fact, Blackwell had made it absolutely no secret how he felt about me, and I could see the desire in his gaze as he neared me, his burnt wood and ash scent creating a smoky environment that was echoed by the black, oily magic that followed after him.
Honestly, out of all my nightmares, Blackwell and I had the most complicated dynamic.
As in, a few months ago when I had a little bit too much wine to drink, I’d crawled on top of him and kissed the ever-living heck out of him, making him almost lose his shit.
Seriously. Apparently, I had way more of an effect on him than I realized, because he had to be restrained and kept away from me for five days following the incident.
I got the impression there was only one reason he wanted to find me, and I had been one hundred percent there for it.
Both Damian and Razar had been concerned, though, so I had been kept away until he’d calmed down.
Still, I felt like the man was one word away from attacking me.
Where Damian had lazy sensuality, Blackwell had formality…
until he lost it. I mean, not even just sexual, either.
When he was angry, the form his magic took was absolutely terrifying.
Well, that was at least how most described it—I found it sexy. Terrifyingly hot.
“Alright.” I nodded and looked behind me once again, taking another sip of my coffee, knowing I would probably need it. “Anything I need to worry about, or is his magic neutralized?”
“He’s safe enough.” My father’s appearance had Damian pushing away from me as I placed down my mug.
I already missed the warmth of his frame, but even I had to admit I was speculative of how my father would react if he realized the situation at hand.
You know, the one where it was impossible for me to choose who I wanted to actually be with, let alone work up the nerve to ask them if they were into me.
Yeah. That.
“I don’t like this.” Razar’s rumbling voice had me smiling just slightly.
Every time I did this, he said those exact words.
I think it was so that later he could say he’d never approved of it.
I knew the other two felt the same, but they didn’t bother voicing it, knowing I would do it whether they were okay with it or not. That was just how I rolled.
Walking to the far left side of the room, opposite the entrance, I made my way down a small set of four stairs before pressing my hand flat against a cool screen.
It lit up almost immediately, the door sliding open with a poof of air, allowing me to step into the containment hallway.
As the door shut behind me with a solid seal, I grabbed the clip I always kept in here and tugged up my hair before kicking off my heels, just in case I needed to move out of the way fast.
Although, despite my curiosity, I wasn’t very nervous about this nightmare. I mean, I had no doubt he could kill me, but that wouldn’t be allowed to happen.
A bell rang, signaling my entrance as the door in front of me opened.
I stepped out into the massive warehouse-sized room that was covered completely in shadows except for the lights that lined the wall where the others were watching.
I made my way towards the center of the front, pressing a hand to the table light as I searched the mass of darkness in front of me.
My head tilted with curiosity as a shiver rolled across my skin due to the air-conditioning as well as a small bout of excitement.
The smell of death trickled across my senses, something that shouldn’t have been appealing to me but for sure was.
That smell was followed by the scent of parchment and oils as mist began to emit from the darkness, curiously coming forward to meet me.
I restrained my grin, happy that we seemed to be already making progress.
The mass in front of me seemed to shift, as if something large was adjusting itself.
His magic hit me hard, like a sonic wave, as I blinked in surprise, realizing just how powerful this nightmare was.
Interesting.
“You can come out, you know,” I called into the darkness. “I promise I’m just here to talk.”
After a few seconds of prolonged silence, massive corpse-like fingers, ones that spanned a quarter of the width of the room on either side, moved forward from the shadows.
They were wrapped in torn bandages, decaying skin and bone visible underneath, making a pang in my chest sound.
It was obvious he was feeling defensive, and he almost appeared wounded…
at least I had to assume that, because his magic wasn’t holding his bandages to him nearly as well as it should have been.
This room was spelled to expand or contract with the nightmare’s size, and since this man had the ability to take a mummified or humanoid form, it was clear he had gone with the first option. He had to have been massive, though, for his hands to take up so much space alone.
Instead of waiting, I walked towards his left hand, each finger easily the size of myself in both height and width.
I looked up into the darkness, hoping to portray comfort instead of harm, before pressing my hand to a finger.
A rumble broke out, shaking the room as I continued to smooth it in a soothing way.
“Please talk to me?” I asked softly, taking the chance of crawling up his finger to sit on top of his large hand.
Almost immediately, the hand lifted, and I began to soar higher and higher into space until the scent of oils grew thicker.
Assuming I was far closer to his face than before, I continued, “I promise you, I’m not here to hurt you.
I just want to talk. I want to make sure you’re okay. Are you injured at all?”
After a prolonged moment, we were dropping.
I landed in the light as he placed me there delicately, my feet grazing the ground as his face fully came into view.
My heart skipped a beat at the thrill of seeing him fully, because not only was he massive, but he had these huge, flesh-tearing teeth that were visible between the wrappings against his skin.
“There you are,” I breathed out, meeting his hollow eyes that were still partly shadowed. “That wasn’t terrible.”
Suddenly, a shiver wracked his form as he pulled back into the dark, the mist thickening so much that all I could do was wait and watch. I had to admit, the first thing that crossed my mind as he walked out in his human form was how attractive he was. Like really, really attractive.
The man was dressed in just a pair of dark linen pants, no shoes, nothing covering his torso except for the extensive dark tattoos that covered his body.
He approached me, and I couldn’t help but appreciate how unique he was.
I mean, truly, I was surrounded by unique-looking people every single day, but he stood out.
His Egyptian heritage was obvious, his skin tone a dark umber that contrasted vivid, almost fluorescent-green eyes that were intensely drilling into me as he drew closer.
I found myself licking my lips just slightly as his muscular but slightly shorter frame, possibly around 6’4”, came to stand over me.
Up close, there were so many details I’d missed, from the gold earrings in his ears to the eyebrow piercing that glinted off the clinical lights behind me.
He was rough, and his dark shoulder-length hair was messy and almost wild.
What I noted the most? The scars that littered his body, covered up by tattoos.
There was nothing traditionally beautiful about this man, but that was part of the allure.
His large hand cupped my jaw, forcing me to look away from his body and up to him. I couldn’t even be embarrassed. Who wouldn’t want to look at him?
“Why the fuck am I here?” he snarled, his grip tight and painful.
My ears rang with his accent. I held in a soft sound as his mist-like magic ran over me, desire pooling in my center as my face began to heat.
Sometimes I wished that instead of lacking fear, I lacked the ability to blush.
It would make this ‘hiding how I feel’ bullshit better.
“You tell me.” I placed a hand on his chest, his eyes widening at the gesture as he broke away from me and began pacing, speaking under his breath in Coptic. I didn’t fight my small smile, because what he was saying was actually rather flattering.