Page 60 of City of the Lost
His voice cut off as if a door had slammed between us. Was he real or just a figment of my traumatized mind. Didn’t matter. I had to fight.
Balen’s hand tangled in my hair and jerked my head back so far my eyes popped open, and fear clamped its fist around my heart. My spine strained, my neck cracked. He was going to break me.
No. Not today.
Focus. Think.
He was no longer non-corporeal, and his package was almost in my face. I slammed the heel of my hand into it. He released me with a grunt. I rolled away with his laughter echoing in my ears and scrambled to my feet, hugging my wounded stomach. The air shifted, and I whirled to counter his attack with a hard pivot kick. It caught him in the chest, sending him stumbling back once more, but he was strong. I’d lost a lot of blood, and the world was hazy. Nausea rocked me, but I ducked in time to avoid the swipe of his talons.
He was playing with me.
If he wanted, he could crush me, but he was having fun. It was in the crazy glow of his eyes and the gaping maw of his mouth. He licked his lips with his impossibly long tongue.
Azren wasn’t like this. He wasn’t a hideous monster, but this was a different breed. One Elora had cultivated to crave sadistic pleasure, to hurt and maim and kill. There would be no escape, only delaying the inevitable. But I’d fight until there wasn’t any breath left in my body. The fucker wasn’t getting his claws into me without an effort. Crimson rage bloomed and burst outward, my vision was clouded in red, and my limbs were suddenly overflowing with power. I turned to face him, knees bent, arms up in a defensive stance. No questioning the boost, just time to use it.
He cocked his head, and then he rushed me.
The next few minutes were a blur of evade and hit and duck and run, and at first my body wasn’t my own, moving on instinct the likes of which I’d never experienced. But the boost was flagging. His laughter echoed around the stone chamber, and then my knees hit the ground. I was a mass of torn and bloody pain. My face was slick from the nicks he’d inflicted with his claws, like a cat batting a chew toy.
His shadow fell over me. “Now, we fuck.”
He made a grab for me, and I fell back, kicking out to ward him off, knowing it was futile. Knowing there was no way out of this. His body settled over mine, pinning me. Hot, sour breath beat against my face.
“Eat you. Fuck you and eat you.”
His hands gripped the waistband of my trousers and terror was a visceral animal, clawing and kicking, bucking and fighting because, no—just no. Hot tears of impotence leaked from my eyes and then his teeth found my neck and there was nothing but bone-searing pain and a scream that scraped my throat raw. My fingers were on fire as needles pierced the tips. He pulled back, mouth a crimson wound, and stared at my hands pinned either side of me.
He lifted one of my arms, glaring at my hand. “Like mine,” he said musingly.
Talons sat on the ends of my fingers in place of neat, blunt nails. How?
“Bastard,” Balen hissed. “Dirty rogue Shedim. Fucking dirty blood.” He squeezed my hand and the talons elongated, sending fire racing through my fingers. My skin rippled, gold and rough, like ... scales? No ...
He gripped my throat and squeezed, crushing my windpipe. No air. There was no ...
“Dirty, so dirty.” He ground his groin into me, dipped his head, and began lapping at the wound on my neck, hips jerking against me in excitement.
The world began to fade away. Over ... it was over and then he tensed and grew slack against me. His body was a dead weight, head buried in the crook of my neck.
“Wila. Oh, fucking hell, Wila!”
Valance?
Balen was yanked off me and freedom stared me in the face, but there was no power left in my limbs to move.
Valance reached for me, and my arm shot out as if of its own volition. My hand grabbed his arm with my fresh talons and my skin shimmered gold again, but this time it spread, slipping onto his forearm and sinking in. Valance gasped, his face rippling with silver scales. For a moment, he merely stared at me in wonder as if looking into a startling abyss, and then I was hauled up into his arms and cradled against his powerful, lithe frame.
“We have to go,” he said. “We have to—Oh, God. How the fuck ...” He began to run.
The world rushed by, gray and dark and musty. My fingers flexed against his shirt, wanting to grab on but not having the strength.
But there was someone else we needed to find. “Az ... ren ... help...”
“It’s okay, Noir has him. Elora told me she’d sent you back. The bitch. The fucking bitch, she almost killed you.”
“She knows ... lie. She knows.”
His arms tensed, but he didn’t stop moving. “It doesn’t matter. We need to get you out of here. You’re bleeding out.”
