“Hey! Hey! Someone let me out! Fire! Fire!” When no one came to save him, he felt the blood leave his face. Fuck. They’re going to kill me. So this is it, then.
Back hitting the wall, he yanked his shirt over his head, stuffed it into the sink, and slapped at the spigot until water saturated the material. Pressing the drenched shirt against his nose, he lunged toward the door, only to stop in the middle of the room. Something wasn’t right. The cloth dropped to the floor.
The smoke swirled in a thick, perfect circle around the room. Slowly, it encroached until his entire body was caught within a vast, churning, vortex. Every hair stood on his body as electrical charges zinged across his skin, biting and stinging until no flesh was left untouched.
Heart thundering at the increasing torture, no amount of slamming into walls or tearing at his flesh would help stop the torment. Breathless, he flopped to the floor.
“Enough! Enough!”
Suddenly, the cloud backed away, stretching from floor to ceiling. Horrified, he watched as a large, black-handled knife formed from nothing. The weapon twirled in the air before passing through the demonic cloud and slamming into the wall beyond. No longer able to see it, he cringed as he listened to the tip scraping slowly, deliberately, and eerily against the concrete. His skin crawled when the sound finally seized.
Waves of fear inundated his senses as the knife shot from the center of the mass, hovered over his trembling body for several agonizing seconds, and then flew downward—halting mere fractions from his shrinking flesh. Again and again, the blade repeated the macabre dance, yet never pierced his skin. When would the hard steel finally slice through his muscle? How long before he would feel the tip strike bone. This has to be a dream. Why can’t I wake up? He screamed until his voice was nothing but a croak for mercy.
The blade instantly dropped to the floor, glinting eerily with each flicker of the busted light. Inch by inch, the sheet of mist slid down the wall. Lids peeling wide, he stared at the etching left behind.
“No! No! That can’t be!”
Slowly, the smoke drifted across the floor, slipping away as easily as it had arrived. Vision graying, he clutched at his agonized heart, shuddered violently, and released his last breath—eyes forever fixed on the message delivered to Huntsville State Prison’s solitary confinement cell number eleven.
I’ve been judged
Mary and Celia now rest…while I burn in hell
THE END
WWW.CELESTEPRATER-ROMANCEAUTHOR.COM
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I was born and raised in a small town between Dallas/Fort Worth and Austin. Wanting to see more than my small Texas town, I joined the Marines, which satisfied my craving to see more of the U.S. and my drive to see if I could be one of the few and the proud.
A firm believer in educating the mind, I have achieved several advanced degrees, the latest being a master’s of science.
My true love is writing erotic romance, especially about alien hunks that know how to treat their females.
Drusus, Severus, Cato, Lucien, Caelius, Maxim, and many more have swirled in my dreams until I had to bring them to life and allow them to find love within the pages of the Fueled by Lust book series.
For all titles by Celeste Prater, please visit
www.bookstrand.com/celeste-prater
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Fueled by Lust: Makar and Baruch (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 34