Page 37 of The Demon and the Broken Girl

Behind me, the elves give chase, laughing, almost playing with me. I stumble on a loose stone and nearly fall. My cheeks burn with shame at the memory of Daeva’s words:weak… fragile…

Somehow, I keep moving, but my pursuers are swift, their footfalls unnervingly quiet.I must scream,I realize. I suck in a breath, letting out a shout that tears my throat: “Daeva! Help!”

The echo reverberates, but I’m not sure how far it carries. Another elf leaps in front of me, blocking my path. He swings the flat of his blade at my legs, forcing me to skid sideways to avoid it. I stagger, heart clenching. They’re herding me away from the cave.

“Run, little human,” one jeers, voice echoing among the rocks. “We love a good chase.”

They strike like cats batting a mouse, letting me slip past only to corner me again. My lungs burn with cold air. My mind reels, searching for an out.Where is Daeva? Does he hear me?

A stone catches my toe, and I go sprawling, scraping my palms on sharp gravel. Blood oozes where the skin tears. Pain jolts up my arm, but I force myself to stand, adrenaline roaring. Before I can sprint anew, the scarred elf grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back. I cry out, tears stinging my eyes.

He leans in, rancid breath washing over me. “Let’s see how well you beg,” he murmurs, blade pressing to my throat. “Or would you prefer to amuse us first?”

An icy terror grips my spine. They’re mocking me, tormenting me—like a cat with a wounded bird. My lips tremble, but a spark of anger flares.I won’t beg.I thrash, trying to elbow him, but he’s too fast, twisting my arms behind me. Pain blooms across my shoulders. Another elf snickers, pressing the tip of his blade to my side.

“Careful,” the second says. “We don’t want to damage her too much.”

My heart roars with combined terror and fury. I think of Silas, of Ryn and Jenna, of Daeva’s scalding words. I refuse to be prey again—I am not a slave.A strange static crackles in my veins. My pulse thunders, and the tingle under my skin spreads, reminiscent of the way I feel Daeva’s power. But this is stronger, more primal. I can’t contain it.

The scarred elf loosens his grip, intending to taunt me further. Snarling, I rip free, ignoring the slice of pain as his blade grazes my arm. I spin to face them, rage igniting my bloodstream. “Get away from me!” I scream, voice raw.

Laughter echoes. “Does the little mouse have claws?” the scarred elf sneers.

An ember of darkness flares inside me. It’s as though invisible threads tie me to the ambient night, fueling me. A memory surfaces:Daeva told me demon influence might grant me power.Now, a well of black energy pulses under my skin, hungry and turbulent. The bond with him stirs, even though he’s not here—perhaps it’s his chaotic magic resonating in me. My breath catches as power surges hot in my chest.

An elf lunges, trying to pin me again. This time, I raise my palm, and a crackle of dark energy leaps from my fingertips. He’s slammed backward with a ragged gasp, colliding with the rocks. Shock contorts his features before his head lolls.

The others freeze, wariness flickering in their eyes. “Magic? A human can’t?—”

I let out a low, furious laugh, hardly recognizing my own voice. “I can,” I snarl, stepping forward. Something in me roars to see them cower. The crackling darkness intensifies around my hands, curling like serpents of living shadow. Each breath fans the flames of my rage.They hurt me, they threatened me—now they will suffer.

One elf tries to flee. I flick my wrist, and a tendril of blackness snaps out, ensnaring his leg. He stumbles, screaming. Without conscious thought, I yank him closer, my muscles trembling under the rush of raw power. He howls in terror as I draw near, energy crackling.If I feed on him, will it make me stronger?An insidious voice in my mind urges me on.He deserves it, they all do.

His panic-laced eyes meet mine, and I unleash that dark power, letting it spill into his chest. A twisted sensation follows, as if I’m siphoning life from his body. He jerks, mouth agape, color draining from his skin. A dark thrill courses through my veins, exhilarating and horrifying. Part of me screams to stop, but the fury overshadowing my fear is too strong.

The elf collapses, twitching, and I stagger backward, chest heaving. My entire body hums with new strength, like I swallowed raw lightning. The third elf leaps at me, sword raised. I pivot, that savage power swirling around my fist. With a single strike, I knock the blade aside and slam my palm to his chest. Another rush of stolen vitality floods into me, sending a dizzying wave of euphoria through my head.More…

He collapses in a ragged heap, eyes rolling back. My breath comes in ragged gasps, heart pounding with savage triumph.Am I a monster now?

The scarred leader remains. He stares at me with open horror, sword trembling in his grip. “You demon bitch,” he spits, voice cracking. “Stay away?—”

But I’m already moving. My mind is half-lost to this dark rage. I lunge, ignoring the slice of his blade across my shoulder. The pain is distant, overshadowed by the drug-like rush of chaotic power. My hand clamps over his chest, and I wrench more life from him, feeding that twisted magic swirling inside me. He shrieks, body convulsing, until I fling him aside, letting him crumple with eyes wide in deathly shock.

Silence falls, punctured only by the rasp of my breathing. A cold wind sweeps across my cheeks. The four elves lie motionless on the ground, each chest barely stirring or completely still. My pulse thrums with the stolen life force, almost pleasurable in its intensity. I inhale the night air, reeling from what I’ve done.

Then I hear a familiar roar from behind—a flash of black movement. Daeva arrives in a frantic flurry, landing among the fallen elves with lethal grace. His hood is thrown back, white hair gleaming in the moonlight. His eyes dart from me to the bodies. Shock etches his features, disbelief momentarily freezing him mid-step.

“Calla?” he breathes, voice thick with concern and awe.

I stand amid the carnage, chest heaving. The darkness inside me subsides to a slow burn, but my skin still crackles with remnant energy. My vision swims with the aftereffects of that stolen vitality.I want more.The thought horrifies me, yet it also smolders in my belly, stirring an unexpected hunger.

“They attacked me,” I whisper, voice tremulous. “I couldn’t— I had to fight.”

A low, inhuman growl resonates in Daeva’s chest. He whirls, noticing one elf half-stirring, reaching feebly for a blade. With an angry snarl, Daeva finishes him in a blur of demonic power, snapping the elf’s sword arm and hurling him into a boulder. Then he turns back to me, dark tattoos coiling along his arms. The final threat gone, the night falls silent once more.

His gaze rakes over me: hair disheveled, clothes torn, cuts lining my arms. But deeper than that, I sense his shock at the aura of magic enveloping me. The bond between us flares, and I taste his swirling emotions—admiration, fear, desire.

“You… used my power,” he murmurs, stepping closer with deliberate slowness. “You siphoned their life force… how did you?—?”

---