Page 58 of Wings of Lies
My eyes widened as another Hellhound, the largest in the pack, left Cacus and Bael in favor of Brock. Head bowed low, saliva oozing down its canines, it crept up behind him. Six feet, five feet, four feet...
He was about to die, and nothing pleased me more.
Days of his abuse, and I hoped the hound slaughtered him in the most gruesome of ways. But before the hound attacked, the prince intervened with his flaming sword. Two inches away from cutting into its side, the hound twisted, snapping its jaw around the blade, teeth disintegrating. It didn’t whine or whimper. No, the Hellhound yanked the blade from the prince’s hands, flung the sword to the edge of the trees, and circled him.
Weaponless, reevaluating his position, he fisted his hands before his face.
Was he going to box with the Hellhound?
He’d die, too. For some horrifying, unexplainable reason, that scared me. Like the thought of him dead was inconceivable, it couldn’t happen. An hour ago, I thought about stealing his sword and killing him. But now, with death staring him in the face, I didn’t want him to die.Why?
I glanced at his sword near the tree, thinking foolish things.No. Just no.If they died, I could escape, find Magda, and then my mom. They needed to die.
But if the Hellhounds lived, I’d die.
The hound snapped at the prince, going for his legs. He jumped back, hands erupting in blue flames. That seemed to pause the hound briefly before it attacked his legs with renewed vigor, forcing him to back up.
But why go for the prince’s legs and expose its neck when it was tall enough for more vital strikes? The Hellhound didn’t even make contact. What was it doing?
Movement to the side captured my attention.
“Aspen, watch out!” I yelled.
Damn it! Why was I helping him?
He pivoted at the last second, a claw snagging his elbow as he turned, and the two hounds collided. They fell into a pile of tangled bones and shadows. The prince, not giving them a chance to recover, punched them with his flaming fist, leaving charred marks on their muzzles.
I officially had a new definition of crazy and hated myself for helping him.
I’d never escape.
He boxed with two sharp-toothed, fire-breathing, steam-snorting hounds crafted of sharp bones and wispy shadows, blurring as he pivoted and ducked, smashing his fists into any and every part of their bodies. Aspen luscelered around, which meant he was an angel or at least part and untouchable.
Almost.
One Hellhound sank its teeth into his arm before he dodged it. In turn, he grabbed ahold of the Hellhound’s jaw, obliterating it and the rest of its head.
Heavenly shit.
He was lethal. I mean, I assumed. But to see it, to know he was the one holding me captive. My stomach rolled. I needed to escape. With them distracted, this may be my only shot. So what if there was a chance I’d die in the forest? At least I’d have a chance, as minuscule as it was, better odds than staying with them.
With my forearms and some interesting wiggling, I pushed back toward the front of the carriage. No one noticed me or even glanced at me the entire time they fought.
Almost out, I ducked under the front axle at the moment something sharp stabbed into my legs. I screamed, clawing into the dirt as a Hellhound dragged me. Blinding agony shot up my legs, and I scrambled for the harness of the dead horses, latching on. I shrieked and immediately let go, unable to win the game of tug-of-war with it tearing the flesh in my thighs. It continued to drag me.
My Glory prickled.
Gravel and dirt scraped against my palms until we stopped. Pain speared up my spine as the Hellhound released me, swiping at my side to flip me over. Blood seeped into my joggers with each pound of my erratic heart as I met red sentient globes of death.
The Hellhound licked the yellowing bones of its muzzle. I squirmed back, whimpering. It followed with slow, measured movements as if liking the game and knowing I wasn’t going anywhere without the ability to stand. Still, I shoved back foot by foot until it took one long stride and stepped onto my rib cage. Pressure compressed my chest, and like it thought I needed more pain, theHellhound sank its claws into my sides. Breathless screams ripped from my lungs. Its nails twitched, digging deeper, and blood spread into my flimsy t-shirt. A long, skinny tongue shot out and lapped at all the glistening red.
It moaned in pleasure, lapping quicker. Like a drug addict seeking more drugs, it jerked back on its claws, shredding, digging, and slurping up more of my blood. Agony worked its way up my shredded throat, begging me to scream, only to get lost in my wet, stuttering breaths.
The teasing needles of my Glory hovered, refusing to build further. Even if it did, what good would it do? It’d only knock me out. But if my cuffs didn’t knock me out, the lack of blood would.
My feet tingled, not a prickling tingle that hurt, not a buzzing warm tingle from the prince’s skin, no, a numbing tingle. The blue sky became fuzzy around the edges.
Time seemed to stop as I squeezed my eyes shut while it drank my blood like a damn vampire. Shame and confusion overwhelmed me as I waited for the end.
