The food is heavenly.
Warm. Salty. Sweet.
My brain short-circuits in the best possible way.
Flavor explodes in my mouth and I let out an involuntary moan. With my eyes closed, I chase the sensations. Then I stuff the rest of the pastry into my mouth. Excited, I rock back and forth and hum to myself.
My anticipation grows as my gaze sweeps over the densely packed buffet tables. I want to try everything.
Jaxon stands next to me, staring with wide eyes.
"What are you doing?" he asks. "Are you dancing?"
I grin at him, blissfully and for some reason, the tips of his ears turn red.
"This is my happy dance. Good food deserves a happy dance."
I've been doing this my whole life.
I'm not about to stop now.
I nod to myself as I start filling a large plate.
Jaxon laughs and shakes his head.
"Okay. I'll leave you to your food hunt for a bit. I'll go see where Tommy is."
"Tommy?" Who was that? Had I missed something?
"The guy who was sitting to my left. Red hair."
With that, he turns and disappears into the swaying crowd.
Did Jaxon think the introduction event was a make-friends show?
Shaking my head, I turn back to the buffet.
Should I take the stuffed pastry with salmon and spinach—or the ham-filled melon bites?
Actually.
Life is too short to choose.
I'll just take both.
My fingers are just closing around a chocolate tart — who said dessert had to come after savory? — when I feel it.
A familiar wave of nausea spreads through my stomach.
Oh no.
Not again.
Why now.
Why here.
Why today — again???
And before I blink twice, I'm no longer in the loud ballroom of the Grand Hotel, but in a long corridor.
The silence crashes over me like waves swallowing me whole. The contrast is so brutal that my ears ring for a moment, phantom sounds lingering until I register that it's truly quiet here.
My feet stand on stone slabs covered by a thin layer of sand. The walls are made of large blocks. Sandstone, maybe?
I take a step forward. Each movement crunches softly.
My grip tightens around my plate.
Somehow, the plate feels like proof that I didn't imagine the buffet.
Or the dancing.
Or Jaxon.
Yep. Sandstone.
I look down the corridor. Farther ahead, a torch is mounted to the wall—but its light doesn't reach very far, and beyond it lies darkness.
I turn the other way. Several torches burn there, and I can see more.
On the ground, patterns stretch through the sand. Wavy lines. They remind me of snowdrifts. But I don't feel any draft here.
Hopefully there are ventilation shafts somewhere. I really don't want to die of carbon monoxide poisoning. I eye the torches skeptically.
Which runs out faster?
The fire — or the oxygen I need to breathe?
To calm myself, I put a bite of food into my mouth.
Yes, I know.
Weird reaction. But food calms me.
Should I just stay here and wait until I'm pulled back?
What's less terrifying:
Waiting here until a monster finds me?
Or moving forward and possibly finding the monster myself?
It probably amounts to the same thing. But I once heard that if you get lost in a labyrinth (or anywhere else), you're supposed to stay put, because eventually someone will find you.
If you start searching on your own, the chance of missing each other is much higher.
So I'd rather start walking and maybe miss the monster.
For logical reasons, I walk toward the side with the torches. At least there I can see something.
Without really thinking about it, I keep popping bites of food into my mouth as I go.
Maybe that's why I don't hear what's happening around me.
Strong arms suddenly wrap around me from behind, locking around my shoulders. I'm yanked back against a hard chest. A shrill scream tears from my throat, and instinctively I let go of the plate and grab at the arms holding me.
One of these arms moves so fast my vision blurs — and the plate's fall is stopped midair.
My fingers close around a forearm hard as stone.
Suddenly, I feel breath against my neck. I hear my captor inhale deeply.
Is he… sniffing me?
A low rumble travels through the body pressed against mine, and dizziness washes over me.
"What are you doing here, female?"
The deep voice slides over me.
Normally, that choice of words would piss me off. But for some reason, it sounds… almost… erotic.
Trembling, I draw in a breath.
Again, I feel his breath at my ear, and silky black hair spills over my shoulder.
I gather all my courage and glance up over that shoulder.
My breath refuses to leave my body.
How can a man be this beautiful?
And this tall. My head barely reaches his chest.
His features look carved from stone. Sharp nose, sharp jawline, high cheekbones. Somehow feminine and intensely masculine at the same time. Long, glossy black hair frames his face.
Torchlight reflects in golden eyes that look almost liquid. But then... his pupils snap me back to reality.
Slitted.
Like a reptile's.
This isn't a man.
This is a monster.
My gaze drifts to his lips as they curve into a grin, sharp canines flashing.
Again, I wish this is just a dream. Because I have absolutely no idea how I'm supposed to behave now.
And to my own shame I squeeze my eyes shut and blurt out (again):"Please don't eat me."
A rumble rises in his chest — and then he laughs. Deep and full. Unfairly erotic.
Why is his voice like that?
He leans down again, and for the first time I register his scent.
Spicy. Rich and aromatic, like incense, resin, and dry heat.
Incense. Sun-warmed stone.
His voice is very quiet when he murmurs against my ear:
"I can think of far better things to do with a female than eat her."
Heat floods my face.
He didn't just say that.
Did he?
Suddenly it dawns on me that being eaten in the Labyrinth apparently isn't the only danger lurking here.
Oh Lord in heaven and all the old gods.
I'm not religious, but right now I promise my soul to anyone who gets me out of here.
Nothing happens.
Apparently, there are no gods.
Good thing I'm an agnostic.
And then it hits me;
if I go back, I might not go back alone.
This guy. No this monster — whatever he is could come along.
Cold seeps into me.
I have to make him let go of me.
"You dropped something," he whispers, as if he senses my discomfort and is trying to change the subject.
Obediently, I reach for the plate. But somehow my fingertips miss the feel of his skin.
Are you an idiot? I scold myself.
His grip loosens. Not completely. More like he deliberately allows me a few inches of freedom.
I use them immediately. I push against him and after a heartbeat of resistance, he lets me go.
With one step, I put distance between us.
Then I turn around.
At first, I only see him. His upper body. Bare skin, warm in the torchlight. Muscles tightening slightly under my gaze.
Even now, he's too close. Close enough that I can't forget his hands on me.
His breath brushes my face. Warm. Calm. Far too calm for someone who was holding me like prey just moments ago.
Then my gaze drifts lower.
And stops.
My brain takes a second too long to understand what my eyes are seeing. Because it doesn't fit. Because it's wrong.
Where legs should be, his body continues.
Scales. Dark. Shimmering in the torchlight.
A snake.
Not human. Not animal. Both.
A snake-man.
My vision tilts for a second, like the ground can't decide where it belongs.
The shock makes me stumble.
Something cool and heavy settles around my hips.
His tail.
Not sudden.
Slow. Steady.
As if he doesn't want to frighten me.
The scales press against my back, my stomach. I feel every single movement, the slight resistance against the fabric of my clothes, the weight that keeps me rooted in place.
Held. Exactly where he wants me.
My heart pounds.
"Oh," I say, stupidly. Very stupidly.
I snap my gaze back up, straight into his eyes. Gold shimmers there. And calm attention.
Everything in me tenses. My body wants to run.
But my legs won't move.
"Don't run," he murmurs. His voice is close.
"You could hurt yourself."
As if that were an option.
He leans in. Too close. His upper body lowers, his face coming dangerously near mine. I smell him again. Warm. Spiced.
Something smoky. Resinous, like heat trapped in stone.
My breathing turns shallow.
No.
No.
No.
My brain screams, but my body moves faster.
Survival, apparently, has its own ideas.
I push a pastry with egg straight into his mouth. My fingers brush his lips, and a jolt shoots through me.
"Here," I force out. "Food."
His eyes widen just a fraction.
For a tiny moment, everything freezes.
Then his mouth closes.
He chews.
Slowly.
I feel the pressure of his tail shift ever so slightly. As if he's thinking.
Then he reaches for my wrist and guides my fingers back to his lips. While his gaze holds mine just as firmly as his tail holds my body, he licks one of my fingers. His tongue brushes my skin. Deliberate. Unhurried.
Never breaking eye contact.
Then he slips another into his mouth, savoring it.