Enraptured:The Sacrifice Trilogy [Book 2]

7. Unleashed

Adelaine

I awoke entirely oblivious to my surroundings.  Currently in a room with posters of some teenage boy band, and housing an insanely comfortable bedspread the color of the sky.  Vacating the bed, I stood up and looked around, wondering how I'd gotten here.  What is this place?  A house?  If so,  whose?  

Another thing that was strange about this room was it had two metal, chained-up identical brown doors slanted doors on either side.  The first one creaked open with tortured groans, as if it were sliding off its hinges piece by piece.  Murmuring voices could be heard breaking the silent stillness, and these three people sounded angrier when their side of this conversation wasn't being heard.  "I just met the girl, for God's sake!  Give her some time to get closer to me, then I might reveal who I am.  She doesn't need information like that yet," a male teenager said evasively.  Creeping out the bedroom cautiously enough so the floorboards don't creak under my hesitant footsteps, I edged toward what looked like a kitchen.  

Stunned, mainly because I've never seen a kitchen fully stocked in The Underworld before this moment, I hid behind the wall in fear of being seen by these men for some inexplicable reason.  Even though I did know one person standing there: Alexander Charleston is a thing to be reckoned with, all demonic beauty and supernatural grace rolling off him in waves.  Peering at the blond-haired boy with muscular shoulders and body designed for an angel, Alexander stared daggers into him so fervently it made me cringe.  

"You don't want her to know," Alexander surmised quietly, almost a whisper.  Now he appeared perplexed more than ever, the expression enveloping his features.  "What happened to the guy that-just a few short months ago-would've jumped at even the slightest chance that he might reveal himself to her?" Alexander looked genuinely shocked, dismayed, and troubled simultaneously.  The adolescent boy shrugged his shoulders, bunching those small hands in his jean jacket as if frustration ate at him.  

Peering off into a distance only he could see, adolescent boy sighed heavily, desperately asking emotion to part ways with him.  However, emotion is a friend that never leaves; no matter what.  "Why don't you feel the desire to expose yourself anymore, my boy?  I mean, what happened?  Last time I checked, you were ecstatic!" Alexander shook his head once more, uncomprehending.   "Ugh, you just don't get it, do you?" Evidently upset for reasons unknown, he stomped off, soffing.  Another bulky man standing in the corner sighed and started after him, but Alexander held up a hand.  "I've got him, Marcus.  Will you do me a favor?  Go check on Adelaine for me, please?"

Inwardly, warning bells sounded inside my head.  Shit! Okay, there's no time to panic, Adelaine.  Just run back to that room, and-

"Adelaine?" Marcus called, his tan face tinged with suspicion. Before he could round the corner or I could make my grand escape, a scream halted us both.  Alexander's on the floor clutching his stomach, a tortured dazed stare upon his face.  So instead of scurrying to the teenage-looking room I'd woken up in, I'm dashing across this small space and crouching down next to Alexander, holding him close.  "She's coming.  The dark one's coming," he whispered, voice hoarse from pain. Removing his black tie so I can hear him without it hindering our conversation, a bemused expression crossed my face. "Who, baby?  Who's coming?"

Moments after I asked, something crashed straight through the windowpane and terrified yells envelopes the room in a chorus.  Lights flicker out on impact as a razor-sharp sound near my ears has me fleeing for dear life.  Someone stepped on my foot [with their boot, mind you,] and kicked me in the face hard enough to leave one hell of a bruise.  I sprang up with speed The Flash would certainly praise me for, and one punch split the intruder's mouth open.  Yet he or she didn't flinch nor give any indication of their identity by screeching obscenities indignantly, which murdered my plans entirely.  

That's what initially got me pissed off.  To add fuel to the fire, an electronic..-what the hell is that?  A truck? -slammed into my spine so forcefully I toppled over, gasping.  Whoever it was bent low and I finally caught a feminine victorious voice that whispered: "You're mine now.  Sleep tight, sweetie," she sneered on that last word and waved her hand just slightly.

By one wave of her hand, the world tilted into pitch blackness.