Envisioned (The Elemental Prophecy) (37 page)

“Zeus, please, don't let him do this,” I begged, tears streaming down my cheeks.

“I'm sorry. I have full faith in both of you to overcome this obstacle,” was his only reply before walking to the window and staring into the world outside. The world I was about to be taken away from.

“Oh, and your powers will be suspended during your stay. We wouldn't want you abusing your powers more, would we?”

“I won't let you take her!” Jace spat as he positioned himself in front of me.

“I'm not asking for your permission,” Hades replied maliciously. He extended his hand toward Jace, casting a fireball at him. It bounced off harmlessly, like always, causing Hades to scowl.

“Interesting,” he said before extending his hand once again. This time, Jace fell to the floor, screaming in agony caused by an unseen force. I was brought to my knees from the pain, which felt like my skin was being ripped from my bones. Blood began to stream out of Jace's ears, eyes, nose, and mouth as he writhed on the floor. Tears burned my eyes as I screamed, “STOP! STOP! STOP! I'll go! Just please don't hurt him anymore!”

The pain vanished as suddenly as it appeared. I crept over to Jace, still on my knees, and helped him sit up. I enveloped him in my arms as tears rained down my cheeks. “Please find me,” I whispered.

“Don't go,” he choked. “This is all a trap.”

“I know, but at least you'll get to save me for once,” I said, attempting a joke. Jace fought the smile that threatened to show, but his dimple peeked through traitorously.

“I promise I'll save you. I won't let him take you from me,” Jace vowed.

I attacked his lips, crushing his mouth with mine in a flurry of desperation, passion, and love. My tongue tasted his as I pressed our bodies together, wishing we could become one like we were created to be. He threaded his fingers through my hair as my tears showered both our faces. Our breathing became ragged as neither one of us parted for air, not wanting our embrace to end.

“It is time. Do not make me force you,” Hades threatened. We reluctantly relinquished our hold on each other, and I stood to make my way to Hades. Jace stood as he propositioned Hades, “Take me instead! I'll take her punishment! You can do anything you want to me, just leave her alone.”

“How chivalrous of you. The conditions have already been set, I'm afraid,” he replied. He extended his hand toward me, gesturing for me to take it. I cringed at the thought of touching him, and turned back to look at Jace, immediately wishing I hadn't. The distraught look on his face broke my resolve, and my heart decimated at the thought of leaving him. I started to pivot back to him when Hades grabbed my hand. The last thing I saw before darkness engulfed me was Jace running towards us.

Empty. Vacant. Hollow. That's how I felt when she disappeared from before my eyes, swallowed into nothingness. My heart ached from her absence, the void she left eating away at my soul.

When she turned to me, the look on her face elicited a desperation in me that I had never felt before. I needed to save her, to do anything to stop him from taking her. I rushed towards them as she turned to come back to me, but that bastard grabbed her before I could reach her.

Then, she vanished as fast as I could blink. Before any other emotion could set in, fury claimed me as I continued to charge Hades. I tackled him before bashing his face in several times with my fists. He roared with anger as he threw me off of him before initiating his invisible assault on me again.

His bloody face sneered at me as he contorted my insides, stretching my bones until I thought they would puncture through to the outside of my skin. Zeus interfered, ordering, “STOP, HADES! NOW!”

Hades didn't stop, continuing to agonizingly ravage my body with his torture. Blood began to seep from my orifices again, which forced Zeus to thrust Hades back into the far wall to end my torment. He stood, dusting himself off as he said, “Three days.” Then, he disappeared.

I stood, wiping blood from my face and gasping for air as I made my way to the Oracle. “I need to get to the Underworld. Now.”

“I cannot take you to the Underworld, bu—"

“Save it! I'll get there on my own,” I interrupted, not wanting to hear more of her vague explanations and excuses. I would find my way to the Underworld alone—no fucking Gods or Oracles involved. Nothing would stop me from saving Brielle. Not even Fate itself.

Continue Reading for an excerpt of
Dark Light
by S.L. Jennings,

the first book in
The Dark Light Series.

Oh, what a difference a year makes.

A year ago, I was the embodiment of a reckless nineteen year old girl, hell-bent on drinking my way through community college until I couldn’t function and not giving a damn how it made me look. A year ago, I was madly in love with my best friend, Jared, but couldn’t find the courage to tell him. A year ago, the only family I knew of was Chris and Donna, my adopted parents since the day I was born. A year ago, I was content with mediocrity and my love life was non-existent—exactly what I thought it should be.

A year ago, I was human. At least I thought I was.

It’s easy to take something as conventional as your humanity for granted when it isn’t threatened. And being that I had no idea what life would be like without mine, I lived it up like there was no tomorrow. Now I have an eternity of tomorrows, and the last twenty years seem more like a fairy tale than my less than remarkable adolescent life. Because 
my
 life—the life that was predetermined for me, the life that so many have died for—is anything but ordinary.

The upside to my newly evolved existence?

Dorian.

Normally, hauntingly gorgeous and intimidating strangers would have me running for the hills. But there is something so inexplicably magnetic and all-around erotic about Dorian that I can’t stay away. I want him; I crave him. And as hard as I try to fight it, I need him. But the million dollar question is
Why
? Why would any somewhat sane, shrewd young woman deem it necessary to completely throw herself at a man she’s only known for a week? And why would she show up to his freakin’ hotel room at damn near 1 in the morning, unannounced and tipsy, just to see if he is alone and not banging the hot raven-haired beauty that followed him around tonight like a lost puppy?

Even as I step off the elevator and make my way down the hall to his suite, my stomach snarled with apprehension, the questions go unanswered, yet I don’t turn away. I have to know.

What he is...enthralls me. Captivates me. Utterly disarms and beguiles me. And if I hadn’t felt his soft, warm lips on mine, had never tasted the delectable sweetness of his tongue or his tingling, moan-inducing caress, I probably wouldn’t be here, ready to strip away my clothes and inhibitions. I would have wised up and gone back home with Morgan. I probably would have even drunk dialed Jared and professed my undying love for him.

But it’s too late; I have felt all those things. I know what it feels like to be under Dorian’s spell. Because that is exactly what I am. And right now, I am about 2 seconds from learning the truth about him, eagerly hoping to unveil the mystery behind the man.

Twenty is purgatory.

Not quite old enough to legally drink but too old to get away with being young and stupid without serious repercussions. I’ve never been the birthday celebrating type, usually opting to commemorate the day with Señor Tequila and a few of his heady friends. But this particular birthday, marking my 20 inconsequential years on this earth, in short, blows. Just another reminder of how I have no clue what I want to do when I grow up and will probably waste away as an overqualified, bitchy sales clerk at the mall. 
Which isn’t a far stretch from what I am now.

Twenty years old. Twenty-
freakin’
-years old. Time to get my shit together.

“Here we go,” I mutter as I pull myself out of bed and trudge into the bathroom to shower. I really, really would rather stay in bed and sleep through this day. There’s nothing to celebrate. Pity party for one, please!

The only thing I have to look forward to is a night out with my best friend, Morgan, which never fails to disappoint. Morgan is my polar opposite in every way—tall, thin, and desirable to every member of the male species, straight and gay alike. She used to be a dancer and has the body and poise to prove it. With her baby smooth mocha skin, exotic Haitian features, and designer clothes, Morgan is the epitome of an ‘It Girl.’ Style is her religion; she lives and breathes all things fierce and fabulous.