She shot him a scowl over her shoulder, which brought a deviant glimmer to his eyes. Gods help her. How long would they be stuck together?
She held her breath like whatever realm lay on the other side was submerged underwater, then took a long stride toward the door and—
Promptly collided with a solid wall that knocked her back. Her face throbbed, and she spat a curse under her breath.
She was sure the door wasopen. Brennen had just strolled through it. As Emmery scanned the darkness and pressed her hand against it, her palm met the resistance of a barrier. But when she shut her eyes, she realized it wasn’t one she could feel in her mind. Wasn’t one she could burn. How strange.
She glanced over her shoulder to find Destonne fixated on the text carved into the doorframe. Before she could ask, he answered, “It says,You shall arrive how you came.”
“What in the world does that mean?” Emmery smoothed her damp hair in an attempt to tame her braid.
Destonne’s lips twitched. “I believe it means we need to disrobe.”
Her stomach knotted as she glanced between him and the doorway. “Youcan’tbe serious.”
He shucked off his shirt and tossed it aside before he reached for the buckle on his trousers. A sheen leftover from the black water accentuated every line, dip, and flex of his shoulders, biceps, and—
Emmery turned away before his trousers and shorts hit the floor.
This wasnonsense. Not only was she already chilled from the black water, but now she had to shed her clothes to get through? Was he messing with her? But Reize had said they had to leave weapons and other belongings behind. She didn’t think that included the damn shirts off their backs.
“I’m not undressing to cross that thing,” she said, her face burning vermillion. She wasn’t insecure, this was justridiculous. But if he was wrong, she would roar with laughter when he struck the barrier completely nude.
“It doesn’t appear we have a choice.” Amusement danced in his tone. “Come now, angel. It’s only skin.” His warmth brushed against her as she stepped aside to let him pass. She kept her eyes trained on the cavern floor.
Don’t look. Don’t look. For the love of the gods, don’t look.
She squeezed them shut for good measure.
Destonne chuckled. “I hate to say I told you so, but I was right.”
Emmery slivered an eyelid to see only his head floating in the doorway.
“I’ll tell Brennen to behave himself.”
The shadows swallowed him and left her standing there. Alone.
Her cheeks flamed and a series of vulgar swears fell from her tongue, but still she yanked off her saturated clothes and boots and tossed them aside. She released her hair from her braid, desperate for some extra coverage, and banded her arm around her chest. Her other hand hid the space between her legs.
This was truly humiliating. She was sure Deimos had a good laugh over this. The gods really were cruel.
The darkness blanketed her in an icy chill as she neared this portal, or whatever it was. Gooseflesh covered her skin, her heart constricted, wheezing a warning, but she ignored her every instinct, and stepped through the door.
CHAPTER THIRTY
VESPER
Vesper kneeled at Nef’s bedside, his rope bound hands on the bedsheets beside her head. She slept soundly though her eyelids fluttered. Maybe she was dreaming. Sort of like Vesper hoped he had dreamt up this whole scenario with the woman holding that knife to his balls like she’d dice them up for fun. He shuddered at the thought and adjusted his seat on the floor to guard his crotch. Better safe than sorry with this feral woman’s unpredictable nonsense.
As he gazed at Nef, she appeared fine. Her golden hair fanned over the pillow, her cheek cradled in her palm, and her breathing had lost its rasp.
But he supposed shewasa tad pale. Alright, she was very pale and bruises lined her eyes.
A sigh surfaced from deep in his chest. Maybe he had convinced himself it wasn’t possible and he’d invented the whole scenario in his head. Or maybe he didn’t want to look too closely and admit he only had himself to blame.
He cleared the thickness from his throat and glanced back at the woman who had tied him to that table. The woman whostillhadn’t confirmed who she was. The one that flipped the knife in her hand with promise as if she owned the room. Which she did, but still, it was fucking rude.
At least she’d finally untied him from that bloody table even though he practically had to beg. He flexed his feet that, thankfully, no longer felt like dead hunks of meat sewn to his body since the blood flow had returned. And the pins and needles had finally ebbed. The rope still chafed his wrists, but she refused to remove it as if he would attack her like some lunatic at the smallest of provocations. Although right now, he did teeter on the verge of something. Maybe he would finally snap and lose his fucking mind.