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I brought my hands down, fists clenched, on top of its head with full force, driving them deep into the skull. Bones shattering, the sound of my hands meeting brain was one I never got used to—a sucking, squishy sound that left me nauseated and yet oddly elated.
“One down!” As the teeth let go of my leg and the hellhound staggered, I was on my feet, and this time I grabbed the tail, spinning it around. Heavy as it was, I was stronger, thanks to my vampiric nature, and I managed to lift the creature off the ground a few inches, whirling it like I was Thor, wielding his mighty hammer. As I built up momentum, the hellhound seemed to realize it needed to book its way out of my grasp and began to struggle, so I waited till I was facing away from the group, then let go.
The hellhound went flying through the air, landing against the opposite wall with a massive thud that actually shook the ground, dazing the two heads that were still alive. It was still foggy—meaning, I’d just bought more time.
I moved in again, racing forward to land on its back once more. This time I brought my fists down on the second head, which seemed to be the smarter of the three, and once again, the crunching of bone, the shattering of skull, and another one was down.
As the remaining head howled, I grabbed it around the neck and abruptly twisted, rejoicing in the strength of my body, the elation of the kill, the feel of its life draining away in my hands. Reveling in the bloodlust as my hunger flared, I rose up with a low growl, turning to see how the others were doing. I was in my game, ready for more.
The others were still facing off with the guards, but they couldn’t get near enough to fight. The lead daemon had a pair of whips out, going a mile a minute, and he knew how to use them. He alternated sides as the whips became propellers, dangerously lethal. They could take a head off, slice a throat, rend flesh. The crack of the whips echoed through the air with ear-popping precision as he moved forward, his buddies behind him.
Camille and Morio had backed a ways down the hall. They were holding hands, preparing a spell. Magic might be our only hope right now, unless we could get those whips away—but then, I realized, I was facing the back of the daemons. They seemed to have forgotten about me, leaving me to the hellhound’s devices. I had the perfect opportunity to narrow the odds a bit. Within two shakes I bounded across the room and launched myself at the one in back, grappling him around the neck and pulling him to the floor with me.
He went down hard—he was big and heavy and his leather armor was stiff to the point of being wooden. I had the upper hand, having surprised him, but I wouldn’t for long, so I took full advantage of my position. I grabbed a handful of his hair as I sat on his chest, used it to yank his head off the ground, then smashed it against the floor. He let out a shout as he tried to push me away, but I backhanded him, hard, and his neck snapped to the left with a nasty crack. He wasn’t dead, but that had to hurt.
Apparently, one of his buddies noticed the scuffle, because the next thing I knew, I was unceremoniously ripped off my opponent’s belly, and I found myself flat on my back to the side of him. As he rolled out of the way, I saw the daemon standing over me bring his whip up, and the next thing I knew, the whistling tip had sliced through my clothing, leaving a long gash on my left side.
The pain made me gasp, but I managed to roll to the side, avoiding his next flick of the whip. Then, I readied myself, and on the third crack, before he could yank it back, my lightning-quick reflexes allowed me to grab the end.
He didn’t count on me being a vampire—with the accompanying strength—because when I gave a hearty yank, he stumbled forward, close enough for me to catch the back of his leg with my toe. I pulled, jerking my foot, and he went down in a tumble, falling on his buddy.
With the both of them in a tangle, I shouted for help just as some sort of an explosion went off. It sounded magical by nature, so I could only assume Camille and Morio had let off some spell.
The next moment, Smoky appeared in a shimmer—thank the gods for the Ionyc Seas—and he ripped into my opponents, talons lengthening as he intervened between the daemons and me.
Never anger a dragon. Even in human form, Smoky was a nightmare on the battlefield, and he managed to slice through one’s armor, neat as a pin. The other daemon—the one who I’d first attacked—scrambled back, like a crab scuttling along the sand. He was weaving erratically as he tried to get out of the way, and I realized I’d managed to give him a pretty nasty head injury.
Before the prone daemon could lift a finger to protect himself, Smoky let loose with another slash, neatly eviscerating him. As a pile of steaming intestines and other internal organs came pouring through the wide, deep gash, the daemon let out a howl, then fell silent, his head dropping to the side. With one last strike, Smoky slit his throat to ensure he was dead, then turned to the other daemon, who had managed to stagger to his feet, but was still weaving back and forth.
“I’ve got this.” Smoky pushed past me, and within seconds, the other daemon hit the ground, his throat bloody. The sight and scent of the blood stimulated my predatory nature, and I knew that I had to feed, and fast, because both the scent and the rush of the fight were pushing me over the edge.
“Give me space.” I stared at Smoky.
His gaze flickered to my face, then he simply nodded and turned back to the others. I fell on the dead daemon, the thirst gnawing in me as I sucked up the blood, licking the wound joyfully.
There was power in the blood, and life force, and it sang in my mouth. I had tasted demon’s blood before and it had frightened me with the strength and nasty aftertaste it left behind. But this… this was different. The daemon’s blood—at least this one’s—was sweet, and full in my mouth. Ripe and fruity and sparkling, like champagne. I reeled. What the hell? I’d had reactions to blood before but this was…
The room began to spin and I let out a low laugh. I wanted more. Wanted a mouthful, a bellyful, wanted to drain the whole damned river of it that was flowing out of the creature. I fell on him, savaging the corpse, practically rolling in the stuff. Elated, feeling dizzy, I sucked up as much of the blood as I could before I realized Smoky was pulling me off the body.
“Let go! Let me go!” I struggled with him, furious, wanting only to return to my bloody feast.
“Camille—we need you!” Smoky bellowed out as he held me fast.
In my haze, I noticed the other two daemons were down and Camille was running past their bodies. She took one look at the situation and let out a loud command.
“Listen to me!” Her voice rang through the room, and though she didn’t have complete control of the command voice, it was strong enough to make me take notice. And in that brief moment, I could tell that I’d been drugged. I struggled for focus, struggled to regain control of myself.
“Can you hear me?” She came closer. Smoky had hold of me, and strong as I was, he was stronger.
“Yes—need to focus. Need… control…” My sight kept phasing in and out, a bloody blur of lust one moment, and brief glimpses of clarity the next.
“Dilute it!” Roz raced over. “If she gets clear blood, it should dilute the daemon’s blood. At least it makes sense to me.”
“But who…” Camille glanced around. “I’d be too weakened if she fed from me.”
“Never—” I’d made a vow never, ever—even in the direst circumstances—to drink from my sisters. And I’d never break that vow, even at the expense of my own life.
Roz quickly stripped off his duster. “I can handle it. She can drink enough from me to hopefully get this under control.” And he moved in as Smoky continued to hold me, baring his neck.
