Page 34 of The Sanguine Selection
Jasper—the only one truly loyal.
“We must reward him.”
Mikhail nods in agreement.“We shall.”
“And what of the female?”
“Jasper will take care of her. She is…special, but she can never know this. She is food, nothing more.”
“I know, brother. Now, let us rise from the remains of our tombs and take our rightful positions on our thrones.”
Mikhail grins again, the action frightening with his decayed flesh pulling away from blood-covered teeth.“I’m looking forward to destroying everyone who doubted our rule.”
My lips twist, mirroring my twin’s wicked expression, and I almost pity the world outside, unaware of the storm that has just been unleashed. The Novikov twins have awoken, and the thirst for vengeance, power, and dominion burns within us like a relentless fire.
With every breath, we draw closer to a future that will be defined by our ruthless reign, and everyone will soon learn that challenging the kings of darkness was a grave mistake. The night belongs to us, and nothing will stand in our way as we carve our path.
Nothing.
16
Oxana
I thinkI blacked out for a moment because when I open my eyes, I expected to see the bright light of beyond, of the life which exists after a mortal one ends. I wondered, if perhaps, I’d see my mother’s face when my lids peeled back, that we’d be reunited in the next life, maybe my father with her.
But no. That, it seems, is not my fate.
Instead I’m met with something much crueler, fouler. That deep ache clenches between my legs and I rock my head back and forth trying to rouse myself, to wake up from this stupor. I feel drugged, my movements slow, my vision hazy. But I can feel—feel the unfamiliar pain, the stone digging into my back, the throbbing of my head. And the smell… Oh god’s what is that wretched smell?
Other senses come back, too. The ringing in my ears waning, giving rise to a disgusting slurping sound accompanied by a pair of raspy voices almost whispering in a language I do not know. But their intention is evident.
A power of pure evil thrums from below me, beseeching the world for its malevolence. A dominating force writhing together with utter arrogance and male avarice. The force of it steals the air from my lungs and burns my eyes. Around me, the entirety of this gods-forsaken castle begins to tremble as if cowering to this power, submitting to the control demanded from within.
A rasp bellows from below, a pleasured hiss followed by more whispers as something cold and hard slithers around my thighs. At first I think a length of rope has wound its way around my flesh, choking my veins, but then a second coils around my other thigh and squeezes. A hardened, powerful grip, seizing my legs as if I were an anchor and it had just found me, its beacon, after being lost in a tumultuous, raging sea.
I swallow hard as another twinge of pain cramps deep within me. I feel it then, the blood leaking from inside me, from between my legs. The metallic, iron-filled scent isn’t coming from the walls or this tomb, but from me.
I’m dying. I must be. No one can lose this much blood and survive it. But somehow, though the world spins slightly, I somehow know my life doesn’t end like this. I groan and attempt to take a deep breath, the exhale coming out shaky as I search for any semblance of bravery to lift my head and look, to see what lies beneath me, what has me in its cool clutches.
Memory of the monsters who dwell in my dreams ripple over me, of the terror they evoked. The harrowing laugh of the wolf-man—Bandar—and his pale friend with the sharp fangs echo inside my ears, the one who sank those fangs deep into my neck and fucking drank. I can’t shut it out. Not the flashes of their desire as they groped my body or the sounds of their laughter aimed at my fear, all at my expense.
Inside my chest, my heart pounds quickly as if it were running to save its life, as if every beat were a step farther away from it, from the doom below.
Move, I beg my body, beg myself, but I’m frozen in equal parts fear and exhaustion. A headache blooms on the back of my head as I will myself to rise and look, to fight at the restraint shackled around my thighs. Terror clamps down on me as I raise my head, using my elbows to aid in lifting my shoulder blades off the cold stone. Immediately, I regret it, for what I see embeds in my brain, sears itself into my eyes like a brand.
“Monsters,” I whisper out in disbelief, voice trembling. Actual fucking monsters are between my spread legs, lapping up the blood dripping from inside me. Drinking like my blood is a fine red wine and they are too thirsty to wait on goblets. Red tongues and crimson teeth snap and snarl, the grip in my legs is their skeletal fingers, yellowed fucking bones encased around my flesh.
I scream then, my eyes darting around the tomb, looking for help, for a way out. I tug at my legs, trying to release their hold on me but their grip tightens farther, opening me wider, my bare pussy on display, their faces buried inside it. One look at their wretched bodies and I want to puke, hurl up the meager bread and cheese I ate last night.
They aren’t much more than dehydrated flesh and yellowed bone, like long dead corpses unburied from ancient graves. Strands of slimy black hair are plastered on dull ivory-colored skulls. Sunken faces devoid of life, deep sunk eyes whose lids flitter open and close almost involuntarily, an innate reaction to their satiated hunger. A flash of molten crimson and fiery gold burn in their eyes making them somehow even more terrifying, more inhuman. I shiver at how it would feel if those eyes lifted and bored into my own, at the feelings it might wrench from me. It might kill me.
Gnarled flesh, or what’s left of it, is pulled taught over their skeletons, ripped and torn in many places, revealing pruned and shriveled muscle beneath them. And their hands are cinched around my thighs, icy fingers curled around my flesh like shackles, their old bones constricting any movement. I’m surprised by the strength in their grips considering their deteriorated condition and wonder briefly, as the fear gives way to curiosity, who or what they might have been a lifetime before this.
One creature opens its mouth wide as another cramp twists my insides. I watch the flow of blood leave my body and get swallowed down by his, revealing a fissured tongue and sharp teeth. They paw at me as I could give them more, withered tongues licking up the inside of my legs, closer to my pussy.
I lurch as a tongue presses inside me, tasting, searching. It’s cold and foreign, slithering around, the creature groaning at whatever he finds. The second one pushes the first away and as his tongue slips out of me I turn and vomit. It’s so fucking gross. So horrific, to see this second demon repeat the actions of the first.
I cry out as that cool tongue creeps inside my body, licking, searching. I want to fucking die, willing to sell my own damn soul if it meant I could get away from this torture. Teeth rake down my skin as if searching for purchase but can’t seem to find the strength.
