Page 119 of Paramour of Sin
I tried to avoid the collision by leaping sideways, but his shoulder caught me in the stomach like a damn tumbling boulder. My feet left the floor and I sailed backward, slamming into the wall. My head bounced off the hard surface, shooting brilliant lights and dark spots across my vision.
As soon as my feet hit the floor, I caught my balance, ducked his incoming punch, and brought my knee up hard between his legs.
He sank forward, cupping his manhood in both hands as he wheezed out a curse. I leapt over his prone form and raced for the painting.
There wasn’t time to enter in the code.
Creek was already moving.
Shit. I spotted the gun a few paces away near the baseboard by the kitchen door. I sprinted and dove for it just as he leapt for me.
His body slammed into mine as I reached for the handle. My fingers brushed the metal, but he took me down just out of reach.
I’d never truly had to defend myself in this manner before, only in training. Usually, men were so lost to my succubus soul that all I had to do was lick my lips to bring them to their knees.
But that wouldn’t work with Creek.
He was strong as a Nephilim. However, what I lacked in strength I made up for in resilience, something I demonstrated now as I reared back an elbow. His nose crunched beneath my bone, eliciting a snarl from his throat.
He grabbed a fistful of my hair and slammed the side of my skull against the floor in response, causing stars to dance across my vision.
Then a searing pain stabbed into my side.
A silver blade.
Agony ripped across my torso, taking all the breath from my lungs. I bucked beneath Creek’s bulk, and the knife ripped out of me, feeling as though it had taken my entire rib cage with it.
Fuck!
Adrenaline surged through me, and I yanked on that thread just long enough to throw my head back. My skull connected with Creek’s already injured nose.
He swore and his weight disappeared on a violent hiss, rolling to the floor beside me.
His knife had fallen from his hand right next to me.
But I couldn’t reach it, too stunned to lift my arm.
Silver,I thought, dizzy as the sensations invaded my soul, intoxicating me on the deadly element.He stabbed me with… silver. And it’s spreading.
And while he’d removed it, the sting remained.
Because the metal was laced with poison, I realized, recalling Eve’s use of similar weapons.Oh, demons…
It didn’t matter that he’d removed the blade.
The residual essence would kill me soon enough without another inflicted wound.
I needed to survive long enough to end him, long enough for Lord Zebulon to return, long enough for… for help to arrive.
It was a slow poison.
I had time.
And I have a lifeline, I thought faintly.Yes, a lifeline.I reached instinctively for Lord Zebulon’s reserves and drew his strength into me. It was as simple as breathing air, a muscle I’d never had cause to use yet felt as though it had existed within me all my life.
His essence responded in a protective wave, pumping life through my veins to heal my wounds faster than I could myself.
Or maybe I was imagining it, a likely consequence of my woozy state, but it helped right me just long enough to grab the knife. The handle burned, the silver reacting negatively to my skin, but I fought through the pain and whipped the blade around to jam it in Creek’s chest.
