Page 14 of Fear No Hell

Sam

Iwake from a dead sleep, thrashing against the mummy-like hold of the comforter, my heart racing and sweat pouring down my face.

Blinking rapidly, I search dazedly for whatever dragged me into consciousness.

The ceiling of the room, tucked into the sharply angled roof of the house, arches overhead. I frown up at it in confusion.

Why the hell am I in the guest bedroom?

Uncertain light peeks from beneath the edges of the curtains. It’s not the bright light of morning, more the blue hue of pre-dawn.

Why the fuck am I awake this early?

A piercing scream shatters the silence. At the shrill noise, the memories from last night come racing back.

Walking into a room filled with corpses.

The bloodstained woman standing over my father’s broken body.

The burning of my father’s house…

My eyes flash open as another scream echoes through the guest room. The woman.

Lila.

“Lila!” I fling my hand out wildly for my sock and liner, somehow managing to knock the nightstand lamp, a stack of books, and what I'm pretty sure is a candle to the ground before I find them.

I get my prosthesis on in record time and have just lunged from the bed when another scream rattles the house.

I’m halfway down the stairs to the first floor before my sleep-logged brain registers that the sounds of terror I’m hearing are a man’s rather than a woman's.

Despite that realization, I don’t slow, tearing around the last few steps, across the first floor, and hurtling down the basement staircase, coming to a shocked stop when I see what’s waiting for me.

For the second time in less than 48 hours, I come face-to-face with bloodshed.

This time, it’s isolated to the small corner of the room where Arthur is limp in his chains, blood running down his arms in such steady streams I can’t tell the full extent of the damage.

The only thing that’s the same between the two nights is the feminine figure covered in gore poised in the center of the gruesome scene.

She’s wearing my shirt. The possessive cavemen inside of me makes his appearance when I notice Lila in my Sleep Token shirt.

It’s followed quickly by: We need to pick up clothing for her.

Although I roll my eyes at the random thought, I do make a note of it as I step forward, shuffling my feet so my steps land more heavily than usual.

Hopefully, she won’t be spooked by my sudden appearance.

It doesn't work quite the way I mean it to.

Instead of being startled, she’s pissed, whirling towards me with claws curled and fangs—fangs?

—bared. Those weren’t there last night. They weren’t, right?

Honestly, the last day feels like a fever dream, the memories of it even more so.

Lila could have easily had fangs, and I just lost track of them in the blur.

A serpentine hiss works its way between her fangs, no less stunning for the inhuman viciousness of her appearance.

“Hey, Lila,” I comment casually, leaning against the washing machine next to me. “How’s it going down here?” A chuckle at the absurdity of the situation builds in my throat, but I force it down, pushing the calm bedside expression every doctor perfects in their first year of practice onto my face.

A sheen of scarlet mist hazes over her eyes, a quick flash that vanishes as quickly as it appears. When it clears, Lila’s expression is blank, the murderous snarl noticeably gone and no real emotion appearing on her face to take its place.

“Lila?” I repeat.

Her stance shifts and, with it, she seems to come back to life. Her lips quirk up in an uncertain smile when she sees me in front of her. “Sam?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” I push myself to a stand and edge closer to her.

“When did you get down here?”

“Only a few seconds ago. I heard screaming and was worried about you.”

“I’m fine.” Her hair swings around her gaunt shoulders as she glances over her shoulder at Arthur, her smile transforming into a sneer. “Him not so much.”

“Yeah, I got that vibe.” I step into her bubble and tilt my head from side to side to take in the full scope of his injuries.

Now that I’m closer, I can see deep claw marks raking down his upper arms—so deep that bone peeks through the serrated edges of muscle and tissue—not to mention the vicious, knife-like marks running vertically down his wrists.

Based on the injury severity and the blood already pooled beneath him, he only has a little while left.

“Were you planning on killing him today?”

Lila’s brow furrows. “Not exactly. I got carried away… His screams… They were so fucking delicious.” She sways sensually as a shiver racks her body. In front of my eyes, her nipples harden.

I scrape a hand over my face as my mouth goes dry.

Stop it, Eaton. Get your shit together. Yeah, right.

I would try to tell that to my dick, except it has unfortunately already joined the party.

I angle my lower body away, so she doesn't get a full-frontal visual of me and my apparently uncontrollable horniness. Fuck's sake.

The woman in front of me doesn’t notice my internal struggle at all, instead swiping her finger through the blood on Arthur’s wrists.

“I couldn’t help myself.” A thoughtful expression crosses her face as she stares at her finger, almost as if she’s considering licking up the gore streaking it.

Then her eyelids flutter, and she flinches suddenly, the considering purse of her lips disappearing.

She shakes her head, wrinkling her nose before swiping her hand down her shirt carelessly.

“You want to keep him alive?” At her nod, I lean in to inspect his injuries more carefully.

“Then I need to stitch him up now. You nicked the radial artery here." I point at his wrists where the vertical cuts are. “At this rate, he’s losing blood too quickly for him to survive if he doesn’t get treated immediately. He’ll bleed out if I don’t do anything, and that's not even considering the shock.” I step towards her, closing the space between us, so she’s staring up at me, that stunning pale blue gaze boring into my soul.

“Are you okay if I put him back together again for you?”

At my question, her body goes so still she looks like a statue in front of me. Minutes pass, broken only by the steady drip of blood onto the concrete floor, before she nods again.

“This is your decision and your revenge, so I need you to agree verbally to this one, sweetness,” I correct gently, the pet name sliding off my tongue yet another time without thought.

Instantly, panic sets in, freezing me in place.

What if she leaves because I’m being a creep?

I don’t want her to go; I just found her.

“What I mean is… I want to make sure you’re okay with this before I do anything.

It’s your choice, not mine, and I don’t want to do anything you don’t want me to do—” I’m rolling my eyes at my own stammering attempt to cover my slip-up when Lila presses her fingers to my lips, stopping not only my train of thought but also my heart.

“Sam,” she whispers, the softness of her fingers on my lips at odds with how hard I am. From one look. One fucking touch. Jesus Christ. “Please keep Arthur alive for tonight.”

I glance down at my watch, wincing at the readout. I need to leave for the hospital in, like, 10 minutes. Guess I’m calling in today. But it’s worth it if it’s for Lila. Even if my attending chews me out for missing work.

I square my shoulders. “I’m going to grab my kit from the car. Can you get my phone so I can call in?”