BOOK 2 of the Running With Devils Series
It's been three weeks since Coralynn Bennet was dragged down to Hell and it was nothing like how she imagined it. It was a kingdom of skyscrapers but no sky. Demons ran amok, but limited their bloodthirsty te...
AN: let's see what I can do about getting poor baby Mal out of this sticky situation he's found himself in. I promise to be gentle... ☹️(pls be patient I promise to make their reunion delicious 🥹)
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The Dreamer
She was there one minute, her eyes soft and gentle— then she wasn't. Those beautiful golden eyes rolled back into her head. Then she began to spasm uncontrollably for what seemed like an eternity.
It was the most gut wrenching thing I had ever laid witness to. I was powerless to help. I had no fucking clue what was happening.
I had tried calling her name. I had tried screaming it. I eventually just ended up scooping her into my arms and holding on as tightly as I could.
But as quickly as the fit came over her, it stopped. She fell limp against me suddenly.
Then I waited. I waited for her to return from wherever she had wandered off to.
I listened to her breathing become fast and ragged. Her face became pained as golden tears slipped down her cheeks and onto the bed sheets beneath us.
I so desperately wanted to protect her from whatever she was seeing now— whatever was hurting her. Maybe even terrifying her.
"Mal," she asked, her voice a trembling whisper.
My body froze. What the hell kind of vision was this? Probably the past. I wouldn't know what to think if it was anything else. He certainly wasn't alive enough for a present vision. And there was no way he could return for the future.
"Coralynn," I spoke softly. "If you can hear me, darling, try to move your fingers."
No response. Not even a flinch.
I tried not to panic. Panicking was the worst possible option. If she woke up and I was a wreck, I wouldn't be able to help her come off the afterburn.
She needed me to stay calm.
I quickly carried her into the master bathroom, turning on the bath as cold as it could get. I gently set her inside the huge tub, and sprinted into the kitchen for some ice. I shoveled as much ice as I could into a large plastic container and returned to dump it in.
I repeated this process several times before climbing in myself and holding onto her again, keeping her body pressed to mine for comfort.
This scene had played out before, I remembered.
That night in the tub, I had seen her so devastated she could barely speak to me. Her mortal body was so fragile and small. She barely displaced the surface of the water.
