Page 102 of Feral Possession

Bishop straddled his fallen opponent, flung his clawed hands out to his sides, and roared. He glared down at Damian, demanding, “Submit to me.”

Celeste shivered, rubbing goose bumps on her forearms. “Oh, that gets me every time. Um hum, I’d submit to him so good.”

Glaring at Bishop in defiance, the defeated lycan slammed his fist into his own thigh, chucking what he held at the bars. “Never,” he bellowed, spit flying from his bloody lips.

At the place where Damien struck himself, black veins blossomed, creeping up his leg.

“What’s going on?” Dove gasped.

“I’m not sure. Looks like Damien injected himself with something?” Celeste leaned over the balcony in a failed attempt to see better.

“I thought you said it was illegal?”

“Shit,” Celeste cursed. “Some of my customers were talking about side effects and those horrible black veins. I think it may have been Zion’s drug, black ice.”

Bishop stepped away from the convulsing man, confusion plain on his lupine face.

“Oh goddess. Look at the bastard,” Celeste said, quiver in her voice. “He’s getting bigger.”

Damian turned onto his hands and knees. Muscles swelled in his back. Black veins wrapped around his torso. Bishop backed away, putting as much distance between them as possible, which wasn’t a lot.

“Looks like Damian sold his soul to the devil.”

“She devil more like,” Dove said. “I bet Helen had something to do with this.”

Damion stood up, faced Bishop, and unleashed an unholy roar. Massive saber-tooth canines pushed past his lips. Lupine angles contorted his face. Menace blazed from his glowing eyes.

“What the hell?” Celeste gasped. “Despite his medallion, he looks fully shifted and feral. Damion just turned himself into a freaking monster.”

Dove met her horrified expression. “And Bishop’s locked inside a cage with him.”

With no further warning, Damion charged. Bishop leapt over him, barely missing a swipe of the monster’s claws. The creature slammed into the iron bars and the metal groaned, bending from the power of the impact. People in the audience screamed, scrambling out of their seats.

“Bishop won’t be able to avoid him for long. We have to do something.” Dove raced for the door, Celeste close on her heels. “We’ll get the guards to help us.”

She flung open the door and skidded to a stop. Celeste slammed into her back. Outside was chaos. People fled into the hallways. “Where’s the—”

Her foot bumped into something big and solid. She looked down. On the ground was one of the guards. Eyes vacant, he stared at nothing. Blood coated his chest.

“Oh crap.” Celeste gasped behind her. Several feet away, the second guard battled a snarling vampire in black fatigues.

“That’s got to be one of Helen’s guys. They’re using the feral as a diversion.”

“Dummy, they’re after you.” Celeste smacked her shoulder. “Helen lured Marcus away for a reason.”

“Right.” Dove winced. That did make sense. She grabbed Celeste’s hand, dragging her in the opposite direction.

They raced around the corner and stopped short. Three menacing men in black fatigues headed their way, weaving through the panicked crowd.

“Quick, back here.” Dove ducked behind a cloister of tall potted plants. Celeste crouched low beside her.

The three men paused directly in front of them. Curse their luck. Dove put her hand over her mouth. Short breaths puffed between her fingers. Her heart pounded so loud it took a moment for her to register their conversation.

“This is taking too long. If we’re not at Green’s Field by midnight, the pilot will leave without us.”

The guy next to him snorted. “Come on, let’s grab the necromancer and get the hell out of here.”

They headed off in the direction of Marcus’s private box.

---