Page 74 of Dead Wolf Rising (Bad Moon Academy 3)

Death’s roar rattles my brain, slices through my skin, and pierces my heart until I can’t see straight. A bony hand wraps around my throat, and through the haze, I have enough sense to try and pry it off of me, but Death holds fast.

“Raven!”

I can’t tell who shouted my name, but I can tell Death’s very angry. His eyes pulse bright red, crackles of black cutting through the glow and making my heart skip. He shoots a beam of power behind me, and the sound of four bodies thudding to the ground hits my ears.

Did he kill them? No. I can feel them through the bond. The steady thrum of their hearts assures me they’re okay. If they were dead, I’d know. The bond would shatter, and I’d probably beg this asshole to kill me too.

“You can’t have him,” he hisses as his bones dig into my neck even tighter, and he blows a puff of dark smoke at me. It’s scented with death and roses, his signature brand.

He’s going to kill me.

That’s it.NowI’m mad.

He’s not the only one who can access a lot of power. I drop every wall I have been using to keep the deep well of toxic magic at bay, dredge it up from the pits of the Underworld with practiced ease. Pulling and pulling until ichor, oil, and fire flood through my body. I gasp for air, and lose control of the magic just as my hands press into his forearms.

Wisps of onyx colored power coil around me and Death. He hisses in another language, and his grip loosens. I take advantage of his slip and drag in the air my lungs desperately need. The flood of thick power envelops us, until all I can see is his fiery gaze. His fingers flex on my neck again, so I grind my teeth and tug a little more of that dark power and shove it at him.

His roar rips through the room, and my spine tingles with fear. He flies away from me and my knees slam into the ground. I grunt, and fold over, shoving my arm on the ground before my head hits the stones.

“Well, well, well. I do love a naughty girl.”

Rolling my head to the side, I watch as four feet in six-inch stilettos strut toward me. I blink then groan. Nope, there are only two feet. The woman squats in front of me, flashing a healthy amount of thigh, and blonde hair dangles toward the floor when she tips her head.

“Poor thing. You did so good though, don’t you think?” Mazzikin runs a sharp, ruby red nail over my arm. “Helpful tip about that power, you don’t want to take much more than you have otherwise you might end up dead yourself.”

Death coughs from where he landed in a heap, and I sit up enough to check on the guys, resting my arms on my thighs to keep from collapsing. The men are all knocked out, but they’re breathing and their hearts are beating.

Right now that’s all I care about.

“Do you want to kill him, or should I?” Mazzikin asks into my ear, lips brushing against my skin and voice full of sin.

Shuddering, I pull away from her. “I’m not going to kill him.”

She frowns at me. “Then why’d you make him mortal?”

“Why did I…” I trail off and swing my gaze to Death, who is rubbing his lush, jet black hair with his bronze-colored fingers. Skin.

He has skin, y’all.

“What have you done, Mazzikin?” Death’s human voice is like chocolate coated strawberries. Bitter, sweet, and sour all at the same time. He shoves off the ground and stands, towering over us.

Mazzikin’s tinkling laughter calls to something sinister inside of me. A dark seductress I didn’t know even existed unfurls inside of me, like the princess of the Underworld is somehow empowering me. Or maybe that’s some sort of magic, because Death’s nostrils flair, and his red eyes burn bright. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s devouring her with his eyes, but that’s impossible because he hates her.

“I didn’t do anything. Aside from gifting a witch with access to Underworld’s death magic.” She stands, runs her hands over her short leather skirt, and pops her hip to the side. “Raven here is the one who decided to make you human. You can’t blame me for that.”

“I didn’t mean to,” I say quickly, eyes flashing to Death. “You were trying to kill me.”

He scowls at me, and twin streams of smoke puff out of his nose, like he’s full of hellfire or something. “Don’t play innocent, Mazzi. This,” he gestures to his very human body, “was your plan all along, wasn’t it?”

With a shrug, Mazzikin walks toward him. He steps back, bumping into the wall, and she snickers.

“Scared?”

“You’ve triggered the rise.” His red gaze volleys between her eyes. “There will be war.”

“Eh,” Mazzikin says lightly, stopping a few inches away from him.

I lie back down when my head starts to spin, but I keep my focus on them.

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