The doors crash open as
a pack of weres in human form stomp in, the exception being an immense,
midnight-black wolf with a white left paw who leads them. His lips peel back,
exposing a row of pointy fangs as he growls at the vampires surrounding me. But
it’s the man storming forward with dark almond eyes and a six-inch dagger in
his hand that gives me pause.
“Hi, honey,” I say,
giving him a little wave.
Funny thing, he doesn’t
wave back. His gaze swoops over my naked body. “Hold her,” he snarls, ramming
the knife into my thigh.
Reality shoves aside the
shock of having the man I love stab me in the leg. Like a heated blade through
butter, he slices through the skin and muscle, creating a diagonal line and
spraying blood across the glass shower walls. I expect pain, scorching
white-hot pain, and to lose my blood supply in large volumes. But like the
creepy crawly beneath my skin, I just feel that wretched pulling and grabbing.
My bleeding trickles to
a stop just as Gemini’s hand plunges deep into the incision. The image is so
graphic and brutal my stomach lurches. I’m seconds from passing out. The vamps
on either side of me are the only thing keeping me vertical. But when my focus
latches onto the hilt of the dagger, and I realize it’s a femur—a freaking
femur!— my body immediately slumps.
Of course, that’s not
the worst part.
The tangle of bodies,
limbs, and faces, carved around the hilt twitch, as if seizing, breaking free
of what’s holding them to slither. Oh, and it gets better. The mouths open,
singing one messed up version of O Fortuna.
“Jesus Christ,” I gasp,
my body trembling violently as their slowly amplifying voices echo across the
room.
Agnes grips my jaw,
yanking my face toward her. “Taran, get it together before you set this whole
place on fire.”
I wrench my head free.
“Don’t you think I’m trying?!”
I bite back a curse, and
a few more, when something scampers toward my right butt cheek.
It doesn’t get far.
Gemini thrusts his hand deep, wrenching a large, screeching lump from my
leg, exciting the minute faces continuing to sing and slide along the hilt.
Their voices crescendo and their bodies writhe with glee. I don’t get a good
look at the demon impaled by the dagger, and I don’t want to. I only see enough
to realize I was right about the spindly legs and pinchers.
Gemini carries the
shrieking demon to the sink, ignoring the way the long cluster of centipede
legs kick out and clutch blindly at the air. I wish I could ignore it. But
those things you can’t unsee? I’ve seen plenty in my twisted, messed up life
and this is one more to add to my list.
Gemini holds out his
free hand. Without asking, a vamp drops an opened bottle of vodka into his
palm. Gemini pours the vodka over the demon, stunning it and causing the legs
to fall open like petals—nasty petals covered with blood, pointy grippy ends,
and little bits of me.
With a turn of his
wrist, he drops the demon into the sink. It falls with a sick plop.
Agnes’s weight abruptly
pulls off me when she stands and hurries to the sink. She flicks a lighter
another vamp tosses her and drops it on top of the demon. “Ad infernum,”
she tells it, sending it back to hell.
The vamps step away from
me as the flames spray up to lick the ceiling. The exception is Edith who
remains on her knees, clutching my leg between her breasts and sealing my wound
with several fast and enthusiastic strokes of her tongue.
“Get away from her,”
Gemini demands. His voice is more beast than human, setting off an orchestra of
snarls from the rest of the pack.
Like a very hungry dog
with a bone, Edith doesn’t want to let go. Gemini doesn’t give her a choice.
From one breath to the next, he rips me from her, wrapping me in a blanket
someone hands him and carrying me away.
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