Wicked Abyss (Immortals After Dark #17) - Kresley Cole Page 0,57

she was eager to run. She stowed her cumbersome shoes, then took off down the trail. The farther she got from the castle, the more the skies cleared.

A full moon hung heavy in the sky, lighting her path as the prairie grasslands gave way to volcanic mounds covered with strange plant life.

I’m entering the wilds of Pandemonia.

Hell seemed eager to show Lila all its wonders. She zoomed past huge flowers with black petals, their blooms the size of satellite dishes. Giant ferns unfurled their glittering silver fronds. Dragonflies as big as eagles darted overhead. Smaller streams of lava crisscrossed each other like red-hot braids.

High in the sky, silhouettes of dragons raced across the moon.

Though completely foreign to her, this realm didn’t intimidate her. She craved hell’s wildness; it seemed to well up inside her and demand a release.

Tonight, so many aspects of Pandemonia reminded her of . . . sex. The scent of flames. The bold colors. The constant pressure, friction, and eruptions.

The lava was fiery and vivid, like Abyssian’s hypnotic skin.

Where had that thought come from?

The sky grew brighter. Tiny insects hovered in the air, each one carrying a minuscule tendril of flame, as an ant would carry a leaf.

Real fireflies! She couldn’t contain a laugh, crying, “More!”

Pandemonia obliged. Pent-up volcanoes rumbled, and the fireflies swirled.

She’d assumed the wilds of hell would be, well, hellish. Not awesome. Out here, she felt alive, her senses sparking as never before. She was brimming with energy, and her blistering speed increased even more.

Her arousal was off the charts.

She felt immortal. No, like a goddess. Confidence surged inside her—

A roar sounded, echoing over the dimension.

Abyssian.

His mate was loose. In hell.

Something had set off the spiders in Calliope’s tower, tearing him from his stupor. But she wasn’t in any of the rooms.

How had she gotten free? How? Had his protections failed during the hell manipulation? Can’t lose her again!

He traced to her bed. Beneath her ring was a message written in ash:

This round goes to me, demon. I left your castle standing (though your pride should be in rubble right about now).

C

He scented the air, but she wasn’t in the vicinity. Which meant she was likely dead.

No. Never. Never again. His claws and fangs shot longer. Control yourself, or lose her forever.

He closed his eyes, searching his realm. Searching . . .

There! He sensed her close to hell’s forest. Normally, he would use magic to secure her, but his life force was too low. He traced, appearing on a peak that overlooked the region.

How had she gotten this far from Graven? He spotted her in the distance. Still alive!

She was running full bore, her feet barely touching the ground, her legs a blur. She headed toward several traps.

“Calliope, STOP!”

She slowed, searching the night for him. She gazed up and turned to face him. Whatever she saw in his appearance made her raise her brows. She tensed to run again.

If he traced after her, he would lose sight of her for a precious instant. By the time he’d reached her last position, she could have already raced away.

“There are traps all around you,” he called. “Bottomless pits and quicksand bogs. If you come with me now, I’ll give you your freedom.”

“Right,” she called back, her sarcasm carrying. “I’m going to believe that.”

“You’ll come with me, or you’ll die out here tonight.”

She smiled at him. “I’ve never felt more alive. And I’ve got things to do.”

He held up his palms. “Calliope, I am asking you to return with me.”

“Are you inviting me?”

“Yes!”

“Consider this my RSVP.” She raised her middle finger.

He had tried to bargain with her. His only other option: threats. “If you don’t stop where you are, I will—”

“Get fucked, Abyssian,” she interrupted.

“Godsdamn it, this isn’t a game!”

“Then why is it so fun?” She blew him a kiss and charged away.

He traced to a point ahead of her on the path, but she’d already blown past him. He pivoted and trailed her through the brush.

How had she escaped? The castle might have helped her. If so, he could never let her out of his sight again—unless he could figure out some way to keep her in hell of her own volition. Sensing a trap ahead, he yelled, “There’s a pitfall!”

A split second later, she teetered along the edge. “Abyssian!” she screamed, her arms pinwheeling. “Help me!”

He traced, diving for her. If I don’t reach her . . . He materialized in midair. Frowned.

She was gone; to the sound of her laughter, he shot headfirst into