Page 6 of The Sacrifice

“Bloody hell,” curses Mayce, kneading his brow as I get to my feet, picking shards of glass from my flesh and brushing others off my scales while eyeing Kyan with a death glare. Not that we can be killed, not here at least. Nor can we kill each other.

“You’re looking quite tasty today, Ky,” I stalk toward him, licking my lips, and hardening my eyes. “I’ll show you who’s the alpha dragon of us.” My blood turns hot, the fire heating my veins and all my nerves. More scales burst through the surface of my flesh, overlapping to form a gleaming armor no blade may penetrate.

Kyan taunts me by shifting his weight and beckoning me toward him with wagging fingers. “Bring it, you big-headed lizard.”

I become nothing but seething brawn and simmering rage. Baser, carnal instincts the curse draws from me more ferocious than ever. Powers suppressed all other days until the Hunger overtakes us, compensating for the suppression on Hollow Night. Madness consumes me. I’m shuddering, vibrating with the need to unleash the fire and fury roaring inside me. By nightfall, we will take our cursed monster forms, breach the Veil, and invade the Wailing Woods.

“I’m surrounded by children,” scoffs Mayce, combing his fingers through his pretty strands. Perhaps I’ll burn them off tonight and watch him squeal. But he’d torture me for it, and I’d rather not have bloody scales from his claws. Or gods forbid, he pulls his illusionist act and turns me into his puppet. After I’d ruined his best robe one Hollow Night, he turned me into his puppet for a week, forcing me to serve him until I’d broken free from his magic. Fucking Fae trickster. If he wasn’t so delicious—

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” a familiar voice intrudes, clicking his teeth and baring his lengthening teeth. “A little row in the hall, brothers? Why wasn’t I invited?” Merikh tilts his head to one side, his eyes shimmering like cauldrons upon us. Black veins pulse through his pale skin, the raw Hunger enhancing his power.

I roll my eyes, straightening. Kyan backs away, eyes widening upon Merikh before he turns tail and runs, leaping into the air, shedding feathers and fur, and disappearing down the opposite hallway. “Chicken,” I mutter after him. Not that I blame our youngest brother. Shortly before the Hunger, the fallen angel holds off the monster for as long as possible. Means more torment, but the demon in him can withstand it.

“Thought you were off howling at the moon,” I mock Merikh even though it’s not the wisest idea.

He curves one corner of his mouth into a sinister smirk, chuckles darkly, and drags his claws across the wall, slashing across the stone until the sound chafes mine and Mayce’s ears. The tension shows in our necks and locked jaws. With his singular ability, Merikh could be alpha if he desired, but I retain the title of eldest and give him a good challenge now and then. He moves toward us with the grace of a feline. Everything is a blood game to him.

“I was explaining to Drago the benefits of maintaining what little control we have until the Sacrifice,” declares Mayce, squaring his shoulders.

“Drago has very little control. All he does is destroy.”

“Speak for yourself,” I throw back at Merikh.

“Oh, it wasn’t an insult, brother. You know how much I admire your skill, especially in its raw, undiluted, and naked form,” he eludes with crazed, bloodshot pupils on display. We all swap appetites with one another, but Mayce and I have bonded the most while Merikh prefers Kyan. Their demons understand one another more.

Bones snap in his arm, elongating them while his ribcage pushes through his graying skin. Shadows gather around his eyes like dark thunderclouds brewing a storm. Merikh is the only one who can thwart me when I shift into my monstrous dragon form. He sways past me with the deadly grace befitting his race and pats my cheek. “Good to see you’re coming to my side of things, brother.”

I rumble a low growl. “I am on no one’s side but my own.”

“You’ve all been in denial for the worst part of a thousand years, my beautiful males,” he lilts, slashing claws across the table, the sound reminding me of a shrill shriek. “There is nothing for us but an eternity of Hollow Nights. We are gods of the Waste forever. Gods of ghosts and monsters. Heartless beasts. Bound to our bane. Undead blood and flesh may not be as satisfying as the sweet spoils of Hollow Night, but it is sustenance regardless.”

If my beast is forged in fire and iron, Merikh’s is blood and darkness. He gave in to his feral nature long ago. A nature meant for seduction and a face chiseled from the finest marble with those blade-sharp cheekbones, mouth sculpted as if by the angels, low-hooded eyes framed by long lashes, and molten pupils glinting like silver stars in the velvet darkness of his irises. Wearing nothing but the expression of a predator while I am the brutal and rugged warrior, raising hellfire and destroying everything around me, save for my brothers.

Matching my height, the vampire pauses before me and brushes his sinuous, curved mouth across mine, careless of my beard. More scales penetrate my skin, hardening and tightening the flesh. I open my mouth, and with one low growl from my throat, we lay claim to one another. Mouths crashing hard through the pain of our bones breaking, teeth piercing each other’s mouths as our blood gushes the Hunger through our veins, and hands and claws tearing at clothes and flesh and scales until we transform to our bloodied, monstrous forms.

And Mayce has become his. Robes shed, the Fae wears the skin of the stars—an effervescent hue of gold meant to allure and entrap with his beauty. No less lethal as our last Hollow Night proved. Hair of silver cascades, slitted eyes like a winter’s night—black and lustrous. Blindingly beautiful, his wings shine with the light of a thousand flaming diamonds, brighter than all my dragon scales. The Sacrificed never run from Mayce unless he forces them since his monster thrills from the hunt as much as ours.

Even with Merikh’s mouth upon mine, I growl for the Fae, demanding his grounding presence to my fire and Merikh’s blood. White horns grow from Mayce’s head, protruding in three directions like keen branches. Silver thorns weave around the apex of his head into a jagged and worthy crown.

The Hunger possesses us. Merikh feeds it, I revel in it, Mayce embraces it, and Kyan surrenders to it.

The four monsters devour our god forms, and we set forth on Hollow Night to enter the Wailing Woods, where we become nothing but ruin and slaughter—fire scorching flesh, earth crushing bones, blood rupturing skin, and air stolen from lungs.

4

I am limbo in a body

QUINTESSA

As I hurry down the alley by the side of the house, I stop dead in my tracks from the couple nearly hidden by shadows in the far corner. A couple rutting in the alley.

It’s not the first time I’ve spied on others fucking, or wished my fingers dipping into my pussy would produce some feeling other than an echo of longing. No heat. No fluids. And more importantly, no blood has ever graced that barren chamber.

But it’s the first time I’ve ever seen someone fucking my sister. And it’s not Van.

Her head is tipped back against the gate, mouth open, eyes closed, breasts swaying from how hard he pounds into her, his breeches hanging halfway down his buttocks. She tightens her long, creamy legs around his waist and rolls her hips. She knows just what to do.

Of course, she does. Darya is a thought-binder.

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