Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78886 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78886 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
I hurled past the future queen comment. So they’d found no sign of Viktor either. That wasn’t good. Deeper cracks spread through my bottles. If anyone deserved to feel the sting of my wrath…
Then. That moment. A bottle shattered. Then another and another. An icy inferno of rage deluged my entire body, and a red haze enveloped my mind. My senses heightened.
Suddenly, the fine hairs on my neck and arms detected a slight alteration in the direction of the breeze. The first of many changes I experienced. Before, I might have only noticed the pine fragrance of the trees and the sweat from the shifters. But now I scented their emotions. Hatred proved strongest, as acrid and sharp as sulfur.
My sights constricted to the threat before me. The pulse beat at their necks. The narrowing of their pupils. The bracing of their muscles. My own muscles bunched, ready for action. If a fight was what they wanted, it was a fight they’d get.
I didn’t care that I was outnumbered and outgunned. I was glad for it. More shifters to kill. And I wanted to kill. I no longer saw living beings, but shadowy prey. Ten featureless targets.
The rest of the world ceased to exist.
I purred, “When I kill you, and I will, I’ll use your bones to build my first throne.” My voice! It was mine, but not. Deeper, throatier, with the hint of a second speaker.
The goad hit its target: their control. Amid grunts, growls and huffing breaths, the shifters surged forward, teeth and claws bared. As they erased the distance between us, I sprinted to meet them in the middle, running faster than ever before. I could almost taste death—needed to taste it.
Just before reaching the strike zone, I leaped into the air as if I had wings of my own. An action no one expected. My aim: the soldier in the center. I slammed into him, knocking him to the ground. Before I registered a command from my mind, I plunged my dagger into his eye. His throat. Heart. Except, the blade got stuck in his throat and I ended up driving my fist through his chest. Driven by instinct, I wrapped my fingers around his heart and yanked.
His back bowed, and he roared. Then he went still and silent.
I felt zero emotion as I dropped what I held and whipped my attention to the others. First, they stopped, obviously confused. When they spotted what remained of their teammate, they comprehended what just happened. Any remaining hint of amusement evaporated.
Must I remove his head, too, to truly end his immortality? Might as well, just to be sure the death took. But that would happen a little later.
I gave the remaining nine a smile and a nod. ‘Come hither’ in berserkerspeak.
With snarls and high-pitched calls, they converged on me.
Once again, I moved without conscious thought. Ducking. Dodging. Spinning. Kicking. Biting. Elbowing. Always slashing my claws with abandon. As flesh tore beneath the razored tips, hot blood splashed over my skin. The elixir of life. Animalistic noises rose from me.
If a turul-shifter injured me, even once, I didn’t feel it. Was this what Viktor and his men experienced in a berserkerage? Sign me up for more, because I never wanted it to end. With every kill, the ice cold reshaped into sublime pleasure. By the time the last shadow fell, motionless, I floated on a bed of euphoria. But. No more? I needed more! Now, now, now.
I spun, searching, searching—there! Another featureless target. I might have grinned. I did walk…jog…run toward it. But wait. A golden light flickered from the darkness. My steps slowed. And that fragrance. Familiar. Comforting. I stopped and canted my head. The flickers grew brighter and wider and lasted longer.
Inside me, the ice melted, downgrading my euphoria to curiosity. What was this? Oh! A man. A very large man. With white hair, green eyes, and harsh features set in an expression of ragged concern.
As soon as his identity clicked, the remaining red haze broke apart and lifted. Viktor! He was alive and well. Crying out, I threw myself into his powerful body. He caught me, wrapping his muscular arms around me and holding on as if he feared I might fly away.
“Where were you?” I demanded. “What happened?”
He buried his nose in the hollow of my neck and inhaled. “My head hit a rock in the river, and I was dragged into another coma-like state. Since I’m the first in history to wake from vargbane root, I didn’t realize I’d have to fight my way free of it when next I slept. This time, I drowned over and over before I woke.” He shuddered against me.
I pulled back only far enough to cup his face and—sweet golden doodle! My hands. They were covered in blood, and I’d smeared him with it.