Viktor
I never dreamed.
I was only embraced by the somber void and the blackness of death for a few hours.
Except when Nadia changed that.
Which I knew wasn’t the case now—at least not this time. Because the settings of those dreams involved the walls of her house, her couch, her breathlessness beneath me. The mark of my bite above her breast.
But never me alone in Hell—of all places.
I woke face down on a floor of dark stone. The surface was cold and rough. The air was suffocating. A mixture of sulfur, which I had smelled before.
When Nadia was possessed by a demon. When I almost died.
I also smelled blood and something rotten, which I couldn’t identify.
I rose slowly, disoriented. The ceiling above my head was high—so distant I could barely make out where it ended. The walls aro
