Chapter 9
Karia
The sound of footsteps erupts from the darkness behind me, but I don’t turn around. The scream came from the room beyond, and it sounded far too much like Sullen Rule for me to stay away.
I twist the knob, the metal and rust hot along my palm, and I throw open the door, lunging forward before I take in the room. It doesn’t matter to me what else is inside; he’s here, and I will damn myself for him again and again.
The sweltering, sticky heat engulfs me as I scan the space, my mind calculating every detail it can hold at a rapid pace, faster than the way my heart is beating painfully inside my chest. My lips are parted, my nostrils flaring as I breathe in the smoky scent of the stifling room, sweat beading along my throat, dripping between my breasts beneath Sullen’s shirt.
There is a fireplace against one brick wall, a mantel with a book I can’t read the title of propped atop it, a silver fireplace tool set— broom, shovel, poker—on the cement floor beside the blaze.
Then, clustered a few feet from it, there are low, black chairs, three of them, a small table in the center, topped with decanters of whiskey and glasses, and a few papers with printed words I can’t quite make out.
The room is squared off, and there is a door directly across from me, the table and chairs between me and it. It’s closed, painted black, a small window pane set in the upper center, but there is only blackness through it.
I want to run for it, because Sullen is not inside this room.
His scream must have come from beyond.
Through that door.
But I can’t sprint to him, because of the three men seated in the chairs circled about the table.
My gaze sticks on only one, although I recognize the other two as guards.
I am staring at Stein Rule as he lounges in the chair facing me, one ankle bent over one knee, a glass in his hand, resting along his abdomen. A small, cold smile curls his lips. He is dressed in a gray button down, dark trousers, his shoes black and polished.
His light blue eyes stay locked onto mine and I feel the guards staring at me, the tension amping up in the room, the fear growing under my skin.
I want to scream.
I want to run.
I am positive these men are armed, even though I glance down and see no holster or hint of a weapon on Stein’s person. I won’t underestimate him, though, and when I raise my gaze from his hip to his shirt, I note a dark, red-tinted stain along the shoulder.
A large splotch; damp, it seems.
Sullen.
“Where is he?” I speak first, keeping my voice low and calm, but there is a hoarseness to it underlying my nerves.
I do not care.
We all know I am afraid.
I will hurt them even in fear.
I lift my gaze to Stein’s and see dimples curve in his white skin as he smiles at me, arching a dark brow.
“My son?” he asks quietly, playing stupid. He glances at his drink and takes a sip of the amber liquid.
I desperately want some of my own, but I push down the impulse.
After he swallows, his fingers holding the glass from the bottom, he looks to me again.
I refuse to answer him.
The fire crackles off to the side and I wonder if he’s lit one because of the frozen atmosphere of the underground, or if he’s using it for a more unsettling purpose.
Another scream rips through the false calm of the room.
My bodily reaction is unavoidable.
I startle, my gaze snapping up to the door across the room.
I take one step forward, like I might lunge for him.
It is Sullen screaming.
And this time, he does it again.
And this time, it isn’t abstract.
“Karia!” The sound is throaty, desperate, and I know he would never call out for me unless he was feeling utterly hopeless. Unless he was fatally injured.
My teeth clench.
There is a broken pause.
“Karia!” His voice shatters, sharp edges scratching at my heart.
Pressure builds behind my eyes.
I take another step forward.
I do not even look at the guards.
The longing inside of me—to comfort Sullen, to heal him, kiss his face—it wells up into something that will strangle me.
He consumes me.
I can’t stay away.
Fuck these men.
Fuck Stein Rule.
I dart around them, skirting toward the fireplace, the heat licking along the side of my face as I pass it.
It doesn’t escape me that no one moves for me.
No one comes after me.
I reach the door as silence descends, then twist open the knob and pull. The cold knocks the air from my lungs, such a sharp contrast to the fiery blaze at my back.
Still, no one tries to stop me.
Unease twists in my gut, but if Sullen is here, I will gladly be imprisoned with him. I just want to touch him. I just want to see him.
The darkness blots against my eyes after so much light from the blaze, but I don’t let my gaze adjust. I slip inside, aware all three men are watching me carefully. I know I will not get far. I know something is coming, but I don’t care.
I let the door fall closed.
A trickle of haunting surprise oozes down my spine when the men let it happen.
The scent of iron, like a roomful of pennies, reaches my nose.
I hear nothing.
Not at first.
I see even less, but I step forward, arm extended.
And I can’t stop choking on his name. “Sullen?” I hate the way I sound so frightened, but it’s only the truth.
There is a pause.
I think he won’t answer.
I take another step forward.
Another.
Then, “Karia.”
It isn’t a scream this time, yet somehow it sounds worse.
A prickle along my scalp forces me to look back, over my shoulder.
Through the pane of the glass, I see the dancing flames.
But no one is following.
Where does this lead?
I face forward, take another step.
My hand brushes against something solid.
I press my palm to a wall, or a door. I don’t know in the dark.
“Sullen?” I whisper it, resting my temple against the barrier between us.
A thump sounds almost directly against my hand.
I suck in a breath, but I don’t move back. “Sullen?” The word creeps up my throat.
“Karia.” He isn’t pleading anymore, or begging. There is a hollowness to the way he says my name, but I know he is right here. On the other side.
“Sullen.” My pulse races with something besides terror.
If I can just get him out, if I can open the door or tear down the wall or…
“How do I get to you?” I whisper, pulling back.
I use both hands to feel along the smooth surface between us, searching for a handle, a catch, anything to free him.
“Where are you? Why… why did you scream?” The last sentence splinters apart.
I don’t know if he can hear me. Tears build behind my eyes, because I already understand we are doomed.
Stein wouldn’t let me come back here if we weren’t.
He wouldn’t let the guards simply watch me if I had a chance to get to his son.
“Tell me what to do.” I speak more firmly, still frantically fluttering my hands around what I think is a door. I slam my fists against it forcefully, loudly, when he doesn’t answer me. “Tell me what the fuck to do, Sullen!” My voice is harsh; I hardly recognize it.
I scratch my fingernails along the door, wincing at the pain as I drive deeper against what I think is unyielding wood.
I drag them down the surface, then ball my hand into a fist and crash it against the wall once more.
A jarring pain lights along my wrist, down my forearm, but I do it again.
And again.
A gasp leaves my lips.
And he says, the moment I hit the door again, “You want to know what to do? You’re going to listen to exactly what I say, and that is this: Leave me here, and run.”
I roll my eyes even as tears spill from them, warm on my cheeks.
“You’re so stupid,” I whisper, banging my fist on the wood again, using my other hand to slide along the surface, searching for anything at all.
“Is this a door? How do I open it? What happened to you? There was blood,” my throat tightens, “on his…” I can’t say the nightmare’s name.
“On his shirt. What happened, Sullen?” I bang both palms against the door, then again, hard enough to hurt.
I press my temple to the surface, closing my eyes as my exhaustion weighs on me.
He’s right here.
He’s right here.
“Tell me what happened. Right fucking now, Sullen Rule, tell me—”
“Leave, Karia.” He is so cruel. “Do you know what I’ve done to you? Do you not remember? Leave me. This is not… what you think it is. I have tried to tell you… all along.” The words slice, but I am not stupid. I know this trick.
Besides, there is a gasping quality to his voice.
Something is so wrong.
I slap my palms against the door again, the wicked sting causing my eyes to water more. “Shut the fuck up,” I snarl. “You called out for me. You called to me. So shut up, and tell me how to get to you.”
“You wouldn’t say something like that to my face, would you, Little Sun?” Something lascivious creeps into his tone, bringing heat to my cheeks and an impossibly stronger need coursing through my veins.
“What would you do if I did?” I whisper, my lips grazing the cool surface of the door. I press my ear so close to it, like I could hear him breathe. See him living, if I only meld into the wood, fuse with the sound of his voice.
“I think you know,” he replies, still struggling with what sounds like simply breathing. “I think you understand now, who and what I am.”
“Mine.” It comes out without thought. “You are mine, that’s what. That’s who.”
A pause of tainted silence.
I don’t let myself think about Stein. About his guards. Or the footsteps I thought I heard before I stepped into the warm room.
I am only here.
I am only with Sullen, now.
“Is it?” he asks, and I don’t hear any hint of his deadpan humor inside the question. “Am I?”
My stomach flips. I feel sick and furious and miserable all at once.
“Am I not yours, too?” I squeeze my eyes shut. I am pressed so tightly to the door, sweat forms along my belly, my cheek, my wrists.
“If you are, you will obey me.”
I almost smile. “You are not god.”