Page 15 of Awry
Another hint of hesitation has Breaker stilling with his hand on his dick.He narrows his eyes.“You better not bite me, bitch.”
My mind has finally cleared.Getting head-butted by a shifter, then severely strangled is a bit to get over.I finally catch sight of the thin tendril of Breaker’s life energy twisting around him.His fate, as some prefer to call it.
It’s wispy, blackened at the edges, and it has only a single branch.
Leading to me.
“Promise, cunt.Or I’ll fuck the princess and make you watch,” Breaker continues, blissfully unaware that death stalks him.Both literally and figuratively.
Figuratively, the essence that imbues all of us with life — again, the energy that some would refer to as fate or destiny — is about to be snipped.
I can see that, clearly.
And literally?Well, the actual death stalking the rapist shifter is now curled heavily around my lower right arm.Tucked behind my back, ready to strike.
My silence or my stillness or my unwavering focus is making Breaker uneasy.He grips his dick, which is softening again— presumably because he gets off on fear, and I’m just not being helpful — and spews more nonsense.
“I’ll make her scream,” he pants, jerking off viciously.“Make you watch how I make her bleed.I’ll take her ass first.I bet —”
“It’s not me you have to worry about biting you.”I interrupt because Presh doesn’t need to hear this shit, and I need him to come a step closer.
Then I wink.
He takes the last step, near enough now to shove his dick in my face.
Finally.
I sway back even as a massive bushmaster snake slides up my arm, up my back, and over my shoulder — growing larger and larger as he moves.
The snake strikes, latching inch-long fangs dripping with venom onto Breaker’s puffy, near-purple dick.
Muta.
In his actual form.
Although he looks like a snake — a long gold body with dorsal blotches of dark brown that form inverted triangles, ending in a horny spined tail — Muta is actually an aspect of the divine who was trapped in the body of a snake.As a punishment, perhaps.At least according to family legend.
So kind of like me, but not really.I have opposable thumbs and a more well-rounded diet.But Muta has the wicked fangs and venom, among other otherworldly tricks.
It’s also possible he’s one of my ancestors.Again, depending on how much of the family mythos can be wholly believed.
Breaker screams, stumbling back and pulling nearly ten feet and fifteen pounds of venomous snake over my shoulder.By his dick.
“What the fuck!”Chains shouts.With Breaker moving, I can see him shoving Presh to the side, harshly.She falls against the stone wall, smacking her shoulder, then tumbling into the sand with a cry.Her hands are bound behind her back, and she’s gagged with some sort of dirty rag.
“I’m sorry, Precious,” I say, making eye contact with her.“It’s going to get a little bit worse before it gets better.”
Her eyes widen, but she manages a nod.
Then I surge to my feet and barrel toward Chains.The other shifter biker has pulled a pistol from a shoulder holster hidden by his leather jacket, and rushes closer to the shrieking Breaker.The gun looks and feels mundane in origin, not an essence-wrought fabrication.And it’s maybe an automatic?I’m certainly no expert.
Chains hesitates, just for a moment, instead of shooting the gigantic snake off his buddy’s dick.
I get the hesitation over potentially castrating a friend.Not that a bullet would hurt Muta anyway.
I make a grab for the gun.But although he’s not quite as big as Breaker, Chains is still easily twice my size.He sees me coming before I get a good hold on the gun.We grapple, slipping and scrambling in loose sand, which is wet only through the top layer from the rain.
I take a hit to the side of my face that leaves me reeling, almost losing my hold on the gun.
