Page 82 of Marked By His Hunger
They tore through my shoulder and raked across bone.
The pain exploded hot and vicious—and I welcomed it.
Pain grounded me.
Pain meant I was not lost in Bloodlust.
The Daemon shrieked, its voice a high-frequency wail that warped the air.
Serena crumpled to her knees again, hands clamped over her ears.
Tears streamed down her cheeks—luminous, bright as silver in the dark.
No.
I could not bear it.
No more tears.
Not here.
“Enough,” I snarled.
My wings snapped outward, knocking the creature back. I seized its wrist mid-swipe and twisted.
The joint cracked with a wet snap.
It screeched and tried to bite, jaw unhinging wider than anatomy allowed.
Behind it—movement.
The third one.
Of course. Algea never travel alone.
I grabbed the injured one and hurled it at its approaching sister.
They collided in a tangle of slick limbs and hatred, shrieking in fury.
“This really is the wrong night to fuck with me,” I growled.
The sky answered.
Lightning fractured overhead, illuminating the overlook in blinding white.
For a heartbeat, Serena saw me fully.
No cloak.
No shadow.
Just my monstrous self.
Horns.
Wings.
DeathFace.
