Free Blood Kiss by J.R. Ward

continued, her fear spiked again, and it was hard not to give in to it and run. But where would she go? She had some vague sense of where the doors were, where the bar was, where the sign-in table had stood. She also thought she remembered where that male, Craeg, was—no, wait, he had moved. He was moving.
    For some reason, she could sense him among all the others, as if he were a kind of beacon—
    A breeze brushed against her body, making her jump. But it was just cool air. Cool, fresh air.
    Well, that ruled out an electrical short if the HVAC systems were still working.
    Okay, this was ridiculous.
    And clearly, she wasn’t the only one getting frustrated. Other people were cursing more, moving more, stomping their feet.
    â€œBrace yourself.”
    Paradise shouted into the darkness, but then settled as she recognized Craeg’s voice, scent, presence. “What?” she whispered.
    â€œGet ready. This is going to be the first test—they’ve opened the way out, the question is how they’re going to drive us toward it.”
    She wanted to seem as smart as he was, as calm as he was. “Why don’t we just go back over to the doors we came through?”
    â€œNot a good idea.”
    Right on cue, there was a coordinated shuffling in the direction of the way they’d all entered, as if a group had coalesced, agreed on a strategy, and was putting a plan in action.
    And that was when she heard the first screams of the night.
    High-pitched, and obviously of pain and not alarm, the horrible sounds were accompanied by a buzzing she didn’t understand.
    Blindly—literally—she threw out a hand and grabbed onto Craeg’s . . . except no, the flat, hard expanse was his stomach, not his arm. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. I—”
    â€œThey electrified the doors,” he said without acknowledging her gaffe or apology. “We can’t assume anything is safe in here. Did you drink what they served? Did you eat any of that stuff on the plates?”
    â€œAh . . . no, no, I—”
    From over on the left, the unmistakable sound of someone dry-heaving cut into the chaos. And two seconds after that, like a bird answering the call of its species, someone else started to vomit.
    â€œThey can’t make people sick,” she blurted. “Wait, this is . . . this is school! They can’t—”
    â€œThis is survival,” the male said grimly. “Don’t fool yourself. Trust no one, especially not if they’re a so-called teacher. And do not expect to make it through this—not because you’re a woman, but because the Brothers are going to set the bar so high, only one in ten of us has a shot at still being on our feet at the end of this night. If that.”
    â€œYou can’t be serious.”
    â€œListen,” he said. “Do you hear that?”
    â€œThe throwing up?” Her stomach rolled in sympathy. “It’s hard to miss.”
    Hard to smell, too.
    â€œNo, the ticking.”
    â€œWhat are you . . .” And then she heard it, too . . . in the background, like the auditory equivalent of someone moving behind a curtain, there was a steady clicking sound. “What is that?”
    â€œWe don’t have a lot of time left. The intervals between the beeping are getting shorter and shorter. Good luck.”
    â€œWhere are you going?” Don’t leave me, she wanted to say. “Where are—”
    â€œI’m going to track the fresh air. That’s whereeveryone is going to be headed. Don’t touch any of the exercise equipment, either. Like I said, good luck to you.”
    â€œWait!” But he was already gone, a ghost that disappeared into the blackness.
    Abruptly, Paradise became downright terrified, her body shaking uncontrollably, her hands and feet going numb, a cold sweat breaking out over every square inch of her skin.
    Father was