Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Oh my God—oh my God!
Kaitlyn’s heart was a trapped bird beating against her ribs. She was still scrambling backward, the rough stone tearing at her palms and the delicate fabric of her gown. The coppery-ammonia stench of the Kriver’s blood mixed with the lingering smell of roasted meat and spilled wine, creating a nauseating miasma of pure panic.
This is it, she thought numbly. This is how I die—how we both die!
Because it seemed clear that the wounded beast was going to kill first Braze and then her—those horrifying beaks were going to strip the flesh from their bodies and there would be nothing left but a bloody pile of bones and hair.
But despite the impending doom, Braze didn’t back up. He widened his stance, his body a tense line of readiness. He had no weapon now. Nothing but his hands, his speed, and the furious will to put himself between the beast and its target—his Mistress.
He’s going to die for me, Kaitlyn thought. My God, what did I do to deserve that kind of loyalty?
The Kriver pounced.
It was a clumsy, pain-maddened leap, but it covered the distance in a blink. All eight tentacles shot out—not in a coordinated strike, but in a frenzied, whipping storm of beaks and muscle—aiming to envelop him, to shred him as it had the trainer.
All but one—that flew through the air and wrapped itself around Kaitlyn’s ankle. With a breathless cry, she found herself being dragged forward, towards the screeching, screaming beast. The tentacle squeezed so tight she felt like it was going to tear her foot off and she kicked in panic, trying to get free.
“Help!” she gasped. “Get it off me—get it off!”
“Get off her, you fucker!” she heard Braze snarl.
As the creature descended, he lunged forward, inside the arc of its lashing limbs. One tentacle wrapped around his torso, the beak-mouth snapping furiously an inch from his face, but he ignored it. His hands shot up, reaching not for the body, but for the base of the tentacle that had Kaitlyn’s ankle. He caught it and pulled it taut, his fingers digging into the thick, rubbery flesh.
Using the beast’s own momentum, he twisted with a brutal, wrenching torque of his entire muscular body. There was a sickening, wet pop—like a cork pulled from a bottle—followed by a sound like tearing canvas.
The Kriver’s shriek hit a new, ear-splitting frequency. The tentacle in Braze’s hands went limp and—to Kaitlyn’s frantic relief—finally released her ankle, which throbbed and ached, but at least it no longer felt like her leg was being pulled out of its socket. Dark purple blood poured from the ragged stump where Braze had torn the tentacle free from the creature’s body.
Enraged beyond reason, the Kriver collapsed more than fell, its legs buckling as the butt of the spear hit the stone dais and the weapon was driven farther into its chest.
It landed half on the dais, its massive head and thrashing tentacles slamming onto the banquet table in an explosion of splintering wood, shattering crystal, and flying food. A tidal wave of green gravy, red syrup, and cinnamon wine washed over the edge, soaking Kaitlyn’s legs.
Is it over? she thought, feeling sick. Is it dead now?
But it wasn’t…not yet.
17
BRAZE
The Kriver wouldn’t…fucking…die.
And it had dared to touch his Mistress. Rage rushed like fire through his veins and Braze felt, rather than heard, a low, continuous growl coming from his chest. The state of berserker fury that came over any Kindred warrior whose woman was being threatened gave him superhuman strength—and the anger that fueled him made him feel ready to rip the fucker apart.
But though the huge beast was down, it was far from out. It was now a thrashing, screaming whirlwind of destruction right on top of them. One flailing tentacle smacked the Empress’s concubine, who had been cowering between her legs, sending him tumbling off the dais. Another sent a golden platter spilling into the darkness.
Braze still gripped the severed tentacle he’d torn away. He rolled, came up, and saw the immediate problem—the Kriver’s head was right beside the Empress’s chair, its huge single eye rolling wildly, its beak-tentacles flailing blindly. One of them smacked across the Empress’s shoulders—not biting, but knocking her sideways with a stunned and indignant cry.
Braze doubted the spoiled monarch had ever been in mortal danger before—this was no doubt a learning experience for her about inviting deadly wild beasts into her dining hall.
But the Kriver’s other tentacles were finding a new target—Kaitlyn. For some reason the beast seemed fixated on his curvy little human, Braze thought grimly.
Well, it couldn’t fucking have her.
Kaitlyn had backed herself against the wall and had nowhere left to go. Two of the writhing, bloody appendages slithered across the floor toward her, their beaks opening and closing with mindless hunger as though they wanted to finish the job the other tentacle had started.