PublicBookshelf Book Club
Weekly tips on great novels to read.
Past-Death walked down the hallway once more and paused between the last two doors in the dungeon. She looked from one to the other. There was no way to know what was behind them without opening them.
Which she wasn't about to do. The deity in her had been scared enough to lock these … creatures up. With no power whatsoever, she wasn't stupid enough to open the doors.
Then again, she wasn't convinced this wasn't a dream. What harm might come of opening a door in a dream?
She pressed her hands to one of them, willing the dungeon to tell her its secrets.
At least they're still locked. It was the best sign she was about to get on this trip.
If this was real, she needed to find Deidre, who had been taken from their cell. Past-Death didn't want to guess what grudge Harmony bore the Dark One or his mate, but she didn't think Deidre's treatment here was going to be handled with kid gloves. The fear and urgency she'd experienced watching Deidre being taken was strong in the dream, the urgency real.
She owed it to the woman to try to help her.
Turning, past-Death made her way down the corridor and paused in front of the door to the cell she shared with Jared. The petrified wood was cool beneath her fingertips, and she dwelled on the sensations, not understanding how this was neither a dream nor reality. It wasn't possible for her to be outside her cell, and yet, it felt so real …