~LENORA
"Welcome to Hell, little dove."
Zephyr's voice slid into my ear like a warm smoke, and I flinched as if he'd touched me. The word Hell echoed in my skull, bouncing against panic until it no longer sounded real. None of this did.
I stood frozen at the edge of the room, half-hidden behind a column of black stone, and my fingers curled so tightly into the fabric of my dress that my knuckles burned. My heart slammed against my ribs as if it was trying to escape my body altogether.
Everything here felt too wrong.
The air pressed against my skin, damp with heat and something acrid that stung the back of my throat—sulfur, smoke, metal. Beneath it lurked the unmistakable scent of sweat and musk, layered so densely it made my head spin. Every breath felt like inhaling someone else's sin.
Then voices came next.
Low moans tangled with rough laughter. A wet, rhythmic cadence which echoed through the room, punctuated by the scrape of stone and the clink of metal.
Skin slapped against skin, over and over again. The sounds crawled over my skin, raising goosebumps along my arms and sinking into my bones.
I swallowed hard, my mouth dry.
This wasn't real.
It couldn't be.
Just minutes ago, minutes, I'd been at a college party. Sticky floors. Loud music. Red plastic cups. Someone had spilled a drink on my shoes. I remembered laughing, remembered the bass vibrating through my chest, remembered thinking I should probably head home.
And now… now I was here.
My gaze trailed around the room and I noticed the torches that were lined on the dark walls, their flames burning an unnatural blue-white, casting shadows that stretched and writhed across the marble floor.
The shadows didn't behave like normal ones. They clung too long. Moved too slowly. Sometimes they twitched, as though reacting to something I couldn't see.
Too many bodies filled the room, participating in ungodly acts.
Some sprawled across cushions and furs, limbs tangled together. Others knelt or lay prostrated near carved stone altars etched with symbols I didn't recognize. Chains glinted in the firelight, their soft rattle threading through the noise like an ominous heartbeat.
I couldn't look for long.
Every instinct screamed at me to turn away, to close my eyes and to curl in on myself until I woke up. But fear rooted me in place as my gaze snagged on details I didn't want to see, horns curving from foreheads, eyes glowing faintly red or gold, skin marked with patterns that shimmered like living ink.
Not all of them were... inhuman.
Some looked human. Too human.
That made it worse.
My stomach twisted violently, and I pressed a hand to my mouth, fighting the urge to gag.
Then I felt a sudden change in the atmosphere, before my gaze lifted without my permission.
He sat at the far end of the chamber, elevated on a raised dais carved from black stone. A throne, not ornate but ancient, its surface etched with grooves that were worn smooth by time and use.
The man didn't move.
He didn't need to, because he looked like someone who commanded attention.
He was draped in a long black robe that flowed over the edges of the dais elegantly, the fabric impossibly dark, swallowing the torchlight rather than reflecting it.
The robe was opened at the chest, revealing pale skin that glowed faintly, as though moonlight lived beneath it.
His Silver hair spilled down his back in a thick cascade, catching the firelight in glimmering strands. It framed his face—a face so beautiful it hurt to look at, like staring directly at an enchanted being. High cheekbones. A strong jaw. His lips parted slightly with slow breaths leaving the space.
But what caught my eyes were the white blindfold wrapped securely around his eyes which should have made him vulnerable, but did the opposite instead.
From his temples rose dark, smooth horns, curving back elegantly from his skull. They gleamed softly, polished and unmarred, regal rather than monstrous. They marked him unmistakably as something ancient and powerful.
And that thought made me unsettled, eventually seizing my breath.
Even blindfolded, I felt him.
Not his gaze, but his awareness. Like a pressure against my skin, like standing too close to a fire. My pulse skidded as my heart hammered so loudly, and I was sure everyone could hear it.
Who is he?
The question echoed uselessly in my head.
I didn't need an answer to know he was dangerous.
Around him, figures moved, knelt and rose. They both worshipped him orally, bobbing their heads in fervent rhythm. When he exhaled, the sound was low, and resonant. It vibrated through the chamber, through me, settling deep in my chest.
The scene expanded around me. Scattered throughout the chamber, women were chained to walls or the floor. Muscular, horned demons took them with savage force with predatory movements.
The sounds were horrifying. And yet... I felt a heat rise in my body that I didn't understand.
"No," I whispered to myself, my voice barely audible even to my own ears. "No, no, no..."
This wasn't arousal, it was fear.
It had to be.
My body was betraying me, responding to the wrong stimuli, firing nerves in places I didn't want to acknowledge.
I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking my head.
Wake up.
This was a dream. A stress dream. I'd probably had too much to drink, passed out somewhere and hit my head. Any second now I'd jolt awake in my dorm room, heart racing, sheets twisted around my legs.
But when I opened my eyes again, nothing changed.
The chamber still pulsed with movement and sound. The heat still pressed in. The silver-haired man still sat enthroned, blindfolded and impossibly calm.
"Enjoying the view?"
Zephyr's voice brushed my ear again, closer this time.
I gasped and stumbled back, nearly tripping over my own feet. My heart leapt into my throat as I spun toward him.
I couldn't form words, couldn't think straight. The afterimages of the orgy scene still danced before my eyes, mingling with the scent of smoke and something primal.
"I'd take that as a yes because I can smell your arousal, Dove," Zephyr's voice dropped to a husky whisper, "and it smells so good."
He stood far too close with an amused smile on his lips, with his eyes glowing faint crimson in the shadows. He looked human enough, too handsome, too polished, but something in his posture screamed predator.
"I—" My voice cracked. I tried again. "I don't... I don't belong here."
He chuckled softly. "Oh, Dove," he murmured. "You very much do."
My stomach lurched at his words.
This was a dream. It can't be real, with me being surrounded by creatures that looked like twisted parodies of humans, indulging in acts that made me involuntarily feel things I wasn't supposed to.
I squeezed my eyes shut, pleading with myself, 'Come on, Lenora, wake up.' But the scene didn't fade.
I shook my head violently. "This is a dream," I insisted, more to myself than to him. "It has to be. I was just at a party. I was—" My breath hitched. "I was there."
Zephyr tilted his head, studying me like a curiosity. "Dreams don't smell like this," he said lightly.
My breath hitched. And to my horror, I realized he was right.
I could smell everything, the smoke, the sweat, the sharp tang of blood beneath it all. I could feel the heat, hear the sounds, sense the weight of the room pressing down on me.
Lucian appeared at Zephyr's side without warning, his presence quieter but no less unsettling. His blue eyes flicked over me, and I saw something like concern in his expression.
"She's overwhelmed," he said flatly.
"Obviously," Zephyr replied. "That's half the fun."
I backed away instinctively, my shoulders hitting the cold stone of the column behind me. My hands fumbled at my bag as my fingers trembled while searching for anything—anything to defend myself.
"S-stay back!" I stammered. My body shook, as my fingers brushed against the insides of my bag for the pepper-spray I had kept, though I knew it wouldn't help….much, but I needed to try.
Lucian stopped where he was, and raised his hands in mock surrender. "Easy," he said. "We're not going to hurt you."
I laughed, a broken hysterical sound. I stumbled back and raised my hands instinctively. "M-monsters!" I stammered.
Zephyr's smile faltered at my word, something darker flashing across his face. "Monsters?" he echoed softly. "Is that what you see?"
Before I could answer, a wave of cold air washed upon me making me shudder.
The silver-haired man was suddenly in front of me.
One moment he was seated on the dais; the next, he loomed over me, his presence crashing into me like a wave which made me freeze on my stance, my body locking up completely.
He was taller and broader up close. His blindfolded gaze met mine, yet I felt exposed as though he saw everything.
His horns were even more striking from this angle, smooth, elegant, curving back from his head like a crown. His robe fell open slightly at the chest, revealing more pale skin etched faintly with glowing markings that pulsed slowly like a heartbeat.
He took In a deep breath.
The sound was soft, but it sent a shiver tearing through me.
He slightly tilted his head, as if he was listening to something only he could hear. I watched as his pale finger extended toward my face, before brushing it with a ghostly touch.
I flinched hard, terror spiking in me which made him stop instantly.
For a long moment, neither of us moved.
A frown made it to my face as the air around him began to ripple.
His form blurred, edges dissolving into silver-grey smoke that coiled and twisted around itself. I stumbled back as he vanished completely, leaving only the echo of his presence behind.
My eyes widened in terror, "W-what…." I stuttered.
A firm hand settled on my shoulder and exhaustion slammed into me like a wall as my knees buckled, with my strength draining from my limbs all at once.
I fell, but strong arms caught me before pulling me against a solid chest.
My vision blurred, darkness creeping in from the edges.
A low voice brushed against my ear. "I can't wait to mark you, dove."
My last coherent thought was a name.
Zephyr.
Then everything went black.