Page 43 of Demon Monster's Little Human

It must be him.

18

LIORA

Pain pulses through me, a slow, relentless ache that weighs me down like chains of iron. My limbs refuse to move the way I want them to, and every breath feels sharp, raw against my ribs. I push myself up on trembling hands, fighting the blur edging my vision.

The beast is still there.

Stalking.

Waiting.

Its black eyes glimmer in the dying light, saliva dripping from jagged teeth, muscles tensing as it prowls closer. My pulse is a frantic thing, hammering against my ribs, but I can’t run. I don’t have the strength.

The wind shifts.

A shadow descends from the sky in a violent gust of air and dust, landing with the strength of a thunderclap.

Not Dain. A gargoyle.

The sheer size of him is overwhelming, thick obsidian skin marred with old scars, his massive wings unfurling as he lets out a low, guttural growl. His golden eyes flick to me for only a moment before turning to the beast.

He came for me.

The realization is colder than the wind cutting through the valley.

The beast lunges first, claws slashing, teeth snapping. The gargoyle meets it head-on, grappling with the creature, their bodies crashing into the rock with enough force to shake the ground beneath me.

I try to crawl away, ignoring the searing pain in my legs, the sharp sting of open wounds against the rough ground. I just need to put some distance between us.

A deafening snarl rips through the valley as the beast clamps its jaws onto the gargoyle’s shoulder, dark blood spilling onto the rocks. But the gargoyle is stronger. He wrenches free, tearing into the creature with brutal efficiency, claws raking, fangs sinking deep. The beast thrashes, shrieking, its body twisting in agony.

It falls still.

Blood pools around it, dark and steaming.

The gargoyle exhales sharply, rolling his shoulders, his golden eyes turning back to me.

His lips curl.

“Pathetic,” he mutters, stepping toward me.

I scramble back, but there’s nowhere to go. My body betrays me, my limbs too weak, my strength drained. He doesn’t rush. He takes his time, his wings shifting, casting long shadows across the stone.

“Dain abandoned you, didn’t he?” His voice is edged with cruel amusement. “Did you really think he would keep you?”

I glare up at him, refusing to let the fear show, even as my heart threatens to break through my ribs.

“He should have killed you when he had the chance,” the gargoyle continues, crouching beside me, his clawed fingers reaching for my throat. “But don’t worry. I’ll correct his mistake.”

The first blow splits my lip.

Pain explodes across my face, white-hot and dizzying. Blood fills my mouth, metallic and thick. I gasp, but his claws tighten in my hair, yanking my head back.

The next strike knocks me sideways, my vision flickering.

I won’t beg.

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