WATER DRIPPED SOMEWHERE behind Logan Winters. It was a steady fall, one he’d heard for days, it seemed, and yet he knew it could only have been a few hours.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
It would eventually drive him crazy, he knew this, but for the moment his sanity was intact. For the moment, he was still alive. Besides, he’d rather concentrate on the wet, monotonous sound that echoed against cold stone than the pain that ripped across every inch of his body.
Because it was a pain he was all too familiar with and he sure as hell knew what was coming next.
Another wave of hurt rolled over him, but Logan managed to hide a groan, aware he was no longer alone. Aware that she was back, and as a new scent drifted over to him, he realized she wasn’t alone. Something dark, putrid, and malevolent had joined her. One of her pets, no doubt.
He tensed and prepared himself for what was to come. He knew it would be awful. He knew it would be brutal and without mercy. Such was the way of it down here in District Three. In Hell.
Logan’s arms—spread wide and held up by chains of fire—ached, the muscles stiff and useless. His left eye was swollen shut, his cheekbone smashed, the fingers on his right hand broken. His bottom lip oozed blood, but it was only one of many abrasions that marred his face, chest, and torso.
And they’d barely gotten started.
He saw her then. Her pale, white feet, toes painted blood red—and then slowly as he raised his head—her rounded hips, tapered waist, and breasts that swelled generously, their puckered tips a dusty rose. She wore a sheer bit of cloth that did nothing to hide her nakedness. Her skin was creamy, her mouth plump, the candy-red lips slightly parted. Not one blemish marred her flesh, and her long hair hung in golden ropes over her shoulders, streaming down like shining wisps of the silkiest threads.
Lilith.
His chest burned with hatred and his heart was tight with pain as he gazed into eyes that seemed to look right through him. He clenched his teeth, ignored the pain, and let his beast show through. He vowed, if nothing else, that he would survive this.
He had to, or all was lost.