Page 67 of Feral Possession

Thunder crashed. Wind buffeted the mansion and the balcony doors blasted open. Candles snuffed out, casting the room in darkness. In that moment, Dove made the only decision she could.

Seventeen

Marcus groaned, cracking his eyes open. Every inch of his body ached. Chains clinked and the cuffs on his wrists fell away.

Bishop stood beside the bed, an unreadable expression on his haggard face. Marcus couldn’t remember a time he’d seen the lycan so exhausted. Marcus rubbed his bare wrist. His ankles, he noted, were free too. He eased into a sitting position. “Why is it so blasted dark in here? Get the light.” Every candle was blown out.

Bishop flicked on a lamp and Marcus winced at the sudden burn in his retinas.

“Well?” He squinted at his bodyguard. “Don’t keep me waiting. Did it work?”

Bishop lowered his eyes, a muscle ticking in his jaw. Marcus’s gut clenched.

“It didn’t work. Where’s Dove?”

“Here,” said a small voice from the corner. She inched closer to the bed, arms wrapped around her stomach. Her expression drawn.

His heart sank. “What happened?”

“Everything went perfectly.”

“Then why is this infernal creature still inside of me?” he grated, struggling to keep his temper in check.

His Chosen winced. “Because he’s the only thing keeping you alive.”

“Lies,” Marcus spat. “The bastard would say anything to bend you to his will.”

“It’s true,” Bishop said. “Saw it with my own eyes. The harder she tugged the demon’s chain, the closer you came to death. Thought we lost you there for a moment.” His voice cracked with emotion.

“I’m sorry, Marcus,” Dove whispered, tears spilling down her face.

Marcus withdrew from her look of pity. He extended his arm, glaring at his charred flesh. “Get out.”

“Now, Marcus,” Dove said. “I know you’re disappointed but—”

“Get out!” Marcus roared. “Out of my sight! Both of you!”

Dove flinched as though struck. Despair darkened her eyes, her expression haunted. Bishop stiffened as well, anger in the harsh lines of his face. Gently, he took Dove’s arm, guiding her to the door. With one last daggered look over his shoulder, Bishop exited.

Even with their absence, Marcus was far from alone.

He rose from the bed. His injured leg buckled beneath him, and he caught himself on the bedframe. Once steady, he limped to a covered, standing mirror.

Seething, he ripped the sheet off, and his image glared back at him.

“Show yourself, you piece of shit.” He clenched his fists. “I know you can hear me. Show yourself!”

In the mirror, a shadow loomed behind him. “Hurt her,” said the accusing voice in his head.

“Who, the faerie?” He scoffed. “I’ve done far worse to others who have failed me.” He’d ordered Dove not to give up, and yet, here he was. Alive, with a demon inside of him.

“Your fault. Not hersss.”

“My fault? Funny, I think I’m looking at the bastard who’s to blame.”

“See yourself,” snorted the voice.

“You are the problem here.” Marcus poked his finger into the glass. “You. Not me. Should anyone find out you’re hitching a ride, I could lose everything. My clan won’t follow a leader influenced by a demon. Nor will the Council tolerate your presence. You threaten my very existence.”

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