"Nicholas," Creed whispered, the name falling from his lips like a prayer to gods who clearly weren't listening. "Oh shit, Nicholas, what are you doing here?"
The implications hit him like a physical blow to the chest.
If Nicholas Grey was here, trapped in this nightmare realm just as he was, then whatever force had dragged Creed through that portal hadn't been acting randomly.
It had been selective, purposeful, gathering specific individuals for reasons that he was beginning to suspect he really didn't want to understand.
But the horror of seeing his rival's familiar silver hair protruding from that living cocoon was nothing compared to what happened next.
As Creed watched in growing dread, more of the cocoons began to move. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, but with increasing agitation as if whatever was inside them was beginning to wake up.
