Page 30 of Demon Monster's Little Human

I shove against him, but he doesn’t move.

His smirk returns, sharper, darker. “You think we just let you walk away?” He leans in, his breath hot against my ear. “You should learn to be grateful.”

There is no tent. No fabric walls to shield us from the wind, no fragile shelter. Gargoyles do not need such things.

Instead, Rhogar drags me toward a makeshift den, half-carved into the mountainside, jagged rock serving as the only barrier between me and the others.

The fire crackles behind us, but no one stops him.

Not even him.

Rhogar shoves me inside, pinning me between him and the rock wall. The space is too small, too dark, too close.

“Don’t fight,” he murmurs, claws skimming down my arm, too slow, too knowing. “You’re tired. You need warmth. Protection.” His fingers press against my hip. “I can give you that.”

His touch burns.

Not with heat, but with filth.

I lash out, twisting violently, trying to shove him off. His grip tightens, claws biting into my skin, warning me.

Something inside me snaps and magic surges.

A pulse erupts from my core, raw and untrained, slamming into him like a violent gust of wind.

Rhogar staggers back. His eyes widen in horror.

His snarl splits the night.

“Purna!”

The word rips from his throat, raw and vicious, filled with hatred.

The entire camp goes still. Then bursts into action simultaneously.

13

DAIN

Rhogar’s voice splits the night.

“Purna!”

The word rips through the camp like a battle cry, like an execution order.

For a second, the world holds its breath. Then, everything erupts.

Gargoyles move, some stumbling back in disgust, others rising with dark interest. Their gazes shifts, locking onto Liora as if she has just become something more than prey.

Something to be destroyed.

Liora presses back against the rock, eyes wide, breath unsteady, her pulse hammering so loud I can hear it from across the fire. The glow from her magic still flickers faintly at her fingertips, uncontrolled, untrained. She doesn’t understand what she’s just done.

But they do.

Rhogar turns toward her, his face twisting into something ugly. He steps forward, claws flexing, voice low and brimming with fury. “You should be dead.”

She flinches, but she doesn’t look away.

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