Dark oak wood floors and furniture. Rich, velvet fabrics. A crackling fire. Books on the shelves lining one wall. A cart of liquor in crystal decanters beside the black marble fireplace. And through the archway beyond the winged male, a foyer and a dining room. Its style could have fit in with her father’s study. With Jesiba’s gallery. The male watched cautiously. She swallowed down her tears, straightening her shoulders. Cleared her throat. “Where am I? What level of Hel?” “Hel?” he said at last. “Hel, yes, Hel!” She gestured to the house. The complete opposite of what she’d expected. “What
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