Page 80 of Marked By His Hunger
The distance between them.
I dropped my wings just before impact, letting momentum carry me the rest of the way as I slammed into the Algea mid-lunge.
I was not the predator.
Not now.
I was something else.
Something worse.
I was a protector.
Her protector.
And gods damn anything that dared come between us.
My claws sank deep into its slick hide, tearing through the unnatural flesh with a satisfying resistance before giving way. The creature shrieked—high, piercing, wrong—and thrashed beneath me, its body whipping violently as black ichor sprayed across the stone.
Serena dropped behind me, falling to her knees, hands clamped over her ears.
Small.
Too small.
Too fragile for this world.
The sight snapped something deeper inside me.
Fury surged again—hotter, sharper—and I wrenched the Daemon upward, muscles straining as I lifted the writhing mass and hurled it toward the cliff’s edge.
It hit hard—skidding, scrambling?—
And then it was gone.
Vanishing into the darkness below with a final, echoing screech.
I barely had time to breathe before something slammed into me from the side.
Hard.
Fast.
Vicious.
Of course there was another.
There were always more.
The second Algea struck like a wave breaking against stone, its claws raking across my shoulder as it latched onto me, its weight driving us both across the slick battlements.
Pain flared—bright and immediate—as its talons tore through flesh.
Glorious.
I grinned, baring my fangs as the blood welled—dark, thick, wrong—and the scent of it hit the air.
“Wrong move,” I growled.
