Anik’s sister is hanging from the middle of a tall pyramid constructed of poles just to my left. My wasps have Pimniq wrapped in a cocoon of sticky white spit. Only her head is visible. She’s pale and gaunt and her eyes have that odd, vacant sheen that speaks of impending madness.
Poor little Pimniq.
Sometimes I sting her face to make her shriek. This is as it should be. Her brother must hear her screams. She will draw Anik to his rightful place at my master’s side.
Much has changed in this world.
Beneath me the Skin dwelling once known as Mexico City has been reduced to mile after mile of smoking ruin. The fires are slowly sputtering out as they consume the last fuel. Lachlan, the Fallen’s son, has commanded troops of Stricken to patrol the streets and put any Skins still alive to work as slaves.
Directly across the Avenue of the Dead the Skin slaves are busy erecting another pyramid. My master’s pyramid. Already it rises hundreds of feet high. Soon it will dwarf the Pyramid of the Sun, and when it’s finished it will hold my master’s throne room, the seat of all power during the Age of Discord.
I shiver a little, anticipating the day when a third Risen joins Lachlan and I to summon Vuk our alpha once and for all. The world has never known such power. Even when Vuk lived free, roaming the steppe as an alpha during the One War, he was not as powerful as he is now.
I scan the burning city. Lachlan’s Stricken troops are not only searching for Skins. They’re searching for my third brother. The Spotted Stalker. The man with the yellow and black rosette tattoos.
Rodas. The Lord of Near and Nigh.
Such a pretty title for a weak man.
Thinking of my brother abandoning the Fallen makes a small swarm of biting black flies burst from my mouth. The flies hover in the air over my head, then fly to attack the treasonous whore known as Tamara.
Lachlan told me Tamara was tasked with imprisoning Rodas in the pyramid and keeping him secure until the Fallen needed him to Become. Rodas had grown…what is the expression? Too big for his britches? He named himself emperor of the Age of Discord. His power overtook his better judgement. He tried to usurp my master’s throne.
My master is just.
He will overlook many slights in service of raising our species.
But Rodas’ willful betrayal he could not overlook.
Through Tamara’s ignorance and incompetence, Rodas escaped. She swears she didn’t know of the secret tunnels leading from the pyramid. Now my brother roams free among the Skins. Perhaps he’s even joined the failed alpha Lily and her Pureblood pack.
Tamara failed us.
The idiot bitch.
I glance to where Tamara is strapped naked and spread-eagled on a stone block. My biting flies settle around Tamara’s soft places: eyes and armpits, wrists and breasts and inner thighs.
Tamara moans through her gag.
I let my flies dance over the idiot Stricken bitch, tickling her flesh with their forelegs. Anticipation of pain, I’ve learned, is almost as gruesome as the pain itself.
My master spared the jackal Carlos Collazo. Carlos still commands many loyal Stricken. But I know when he’s no longer needed he too will be punished for allowing Rodas to escape.
My biting swarm bites into Tamara’s already swollen and ravaged flesh. I feed on her as required, a little bit at a time, bringing her close to death from pain and shock and exposure then permitting her to heal, then doing it again—
“Don’t kill her, Shiori,” Lachlan says from behind me. “My father might need Tamara to find Rodas.”
Lachlan strides around the pyramid altar where Pimniq is suspended.
I pretend not to notice him. This new Risen. My alpha’s son. The boy always refers to my alpha as his father. Like he’s reminding me he is heir to Vuk’s throne.
Lachlan makes my insects buzz and crawl beneath my skin.
Maybe I would like to be heir?
I am the Sun Smotherer. The Black Dawn.
The All Consuming.
I am deserving.
Besides, the boy Lachlan has weak blood in his veins.
Lily the failed alpha bitch is his mother.
Perhaps that is why I sometimes dream of feeding on Lachlan—
Tamara’s legs are bucking as my flies feast on her.
Lachlan strides across the platform and places his little hand on my arm. Stares into my eyes. There’s a threat in how he touches me, as if he intends to use physical force to prevent me from killing Tamara.
I glance at Lachlan only once, permit my insects to feed a few seconds more, then send them buzzing away.
Overhead, a massive flock of carrion vultures banks right and rises into a black-red sky.
Lachlan releases my arm.
We must find the third Risen soon.
This boy Lachlan is close to challenging me to become the alpha’s second. And if he does I will have no choice but to feed on his heart, future heir or no.
A stretcher arrives, carried by four Stricken dressed in military garb. There’s a figure on the stretcher, shrouded in a sweat-soaked blanket. The Stricken lay the stretcher at my feet.
I bend down and lift the shroud back.
Connor Lerrick is lying on the stretcher.
Or rather, what is left of him.
There’s a word for how Connor looks. I’m still learning this language. So I say to Lachlan, “This vessel. How does he appear?”
Lachlan stares at Connor for a long while, then says. “Like a husk.”
A husk. Yes.
Like he’s been hollowed. My insects do that sometimes.
Suck their prey dry of blood.
Connor’s skin is so pale its nearly translucent. It sags from his bones. He’s lost almost half his bodyweight. His eyes have sunk deep into their sockets. His hair has fallen out. His face and bald skull are covered in a network of fine blue veins. He’s naked. Shivering. He scents of fear and weakness.
He’s also grinning.
I know he’s suffering terribly.
But he’s grinning, his eyes lit with insane desire.
“I offer myself my Lord I offer myself to the One Without Value…”
Connor whispers these words as I stare at him.
Over and over.
He lives for the Fallen to inhabit his body. His shell.
The Stricken grab Connor under the armpits and drag him into the pole pyramid altar. Connor continues whispering his feverish prayer as the Stricken tie his wrists with leather straps so he’s standing naked in the middle of the pyramid, arms upraised.
Far overhead, Lachlan’s carrion vultures swoop and caw.
They sense something momentous.
It’s Lord’s Day in the Age of Discord.
The Fallen has commanded me to summon his Minions to the Pyramid of the Sun. Each will be rewarded for their loyalty by being granted territory and title in this new age.
Minions are the last surviving members of the first generation of Stricken, born from the primal mother and my master. The first black-blooded litter.
Right now, eleven Minions are making their way up the blood-slick steps toward my alpha’s pyramid pole altar—
“I offer myself to you…” Connor whispers.
“It’s nearly time,” I say, glancing at the Blood Moon.
Lachlan and I step into the pole pyramid altar beside Connor.
Pimniq squirms in her cocoon prison.
The earth seems to hold its breath.
Then the first three Minion Stricken arrive on the platform. They are large, heavily-boned women wearing black leather. As they step onto the platform their faces shift, and suddenly I’m looking into the glowing yellow eyes of a trio of snarling tigers.
“Name yourself,” I say to the Minions.
“We are the Three Sisters.” The tiger-women speak simultaneously. “The Ravishes.”
“Who do you serve?”
“Our father. The One Without Value. Always and ever.”
Eight Mini
ons follow behind these three. A short, very heavy man with a bald head and wide, pupil-less eyes that glow creamy white. A broad-shouldered man with a flowing golden mane. A lean, dark-skinned woman with swirling tattoos covering every inch of her skin. The Minion’s expressions are excited and anxious as they settle behind the Ravishes.
There’s an expectant hush.
A quiet, nervous energy.
Connor starts to hum and quiver with the same anxious, submissive energy I scent from the Minions.
The red-disk tattoo on my wrist burns cold.
Lachlan’s vulture flock settles on the slopes of the stone pyramid, blanketing it in a carpet of black.
Pimniq moans in fear.
I close my eyes and wait for my brother to enter Connor the vessel.
Red lightning flickers over the ruined Skin city.
The seconds tick by.
My skin tingles.
Something is wrong.
Usually we Risen need only step into the wooden pole-pyramid altar to draw my brother into being. Usually he’s always there, waiting in the Bloodless Land for us to open the gate between worlds.
I clamp my lips closed and stare straight ahead.
He will Become.
My brother Vuk will occupy the vessel.
He always does.
He must.
Connor mumbles and moans and whispers. His cock is swollen hard. Giving oneself completely to another being is an erotic experience.
A single wasp slips from my mouth.
I land it outside the pyramid. Close to the Minion Stricken.
The eleven Minions are powerful. They have armies on this earth. If they suspect weakness—
“I have Become!” Connor screams, his eyes rolling wildly in his head. “I am the Emperor of Discord—”
The idiot is lying.
My brother isn’t with us.
“Shut him up,” I hiss to Lachlan. “Before the Minions suspect—”
Lachlan gives me a long glare, like he’s considering defying me. Then he instructs the Stricken attendants to gag the lunatic vessel.
My mind races. Should we wait longer? It’s Lord’s Day. The Minions arrived expecting their alpha father to appear. They might turn on us. Accuse us of being frauds. Perhaps if we wait a little longer Vuk will Become? I silently plead for the Fallen’s bitter cold to seep into my bones. But there’s nothing—
“What do we do?” Lachlan whispers.
The boy heir. Immensely powerful. But still a child.
“He can’t Become,” Pimniq whispers. “He’s not with you.”
I send my wasp to sting Pimniq in the face.
She goes quiet, but too late.
The Minions cast vicious glances at each other. A low growl rumbles from one of the Ravishes. Old rivalries and alliances are resurfacing. The Minions loathe one another. Without the Fallen’s guiding hand they will tear each other apart fighting for territory and pack supremacy.
A blood challenge might break out right here, on top of the Pyramid of the Sun, beside my alpha’s altar. The Stricken armies would witness such disgrace. Begin to question my alpha’s authority and control.
A pack depends on strict hierarchy.
Absolute power.
Remove that and…madness.
Weakness is death. Always.
There will be no weakness. Not from me.
“You,” I say, stepping from the pole altar and pointing at the tall, narrow woman covered in tattoos.
The women bows. Steps forward.
Keeps her eyes rooted at my feet.
“What did you witness today?” I ask her.
The woman raises her head to meet my gaze, then says, “The Fallen could not become—”
I plunge my hand through the Minion’s chest, tear out her beating black heart and bring it to my lips. She watches my teeth sink into her heart before she collapses at my feet.
The carrion flock rises from the stone pyramid, a million nightmares of black wings and beaks and claws.
“You,” I say, pointing to a second Minion. “What did you witness today?”
The Minion, the well-built, handsome man with bright blonde hair, licks his lips and stammers, “We have angered the One Without Value. He chose not to Become. Chose not to bless us with his presence.”
“What is your name?” I ask the blonde Minion.
“Noah.”
“I have a task for you, Noah,” I say to the blonde Minion. “You and the Ravishes are to journey north, toward the Skin dwelling once known as Phoenix. There is a pack of Purebloods roaming free. They require extermination.”
Noah slumps to his knees.
“The rest of you,” I spit at the remaining Minions, “return to your territories. You will be summoned for Lord’s Day as our rising alpha sees fit.”
I step over the dead Minion.
Stand with my toes hanging inches over the edge of the pyramid.
My brother failed to Become.
I cannot permit those I lead to see my worry and fear.
Nor do I want to face Lachlan’s questions.
We require another Risen. Quickly. Anik or Rodas. Anik cannot be counted on. But Rodas? He will kneel to my animal. I need only find him and challenge him—
I leap into empty space, and before I hit the stones the loud buzzing of my wings fills my ears and I’m flying low over the miserable Skin slaves laboring to build a pyramid that will overshadow all others—
CHAPTER SEVEN
AARON
GIRL GONE STRAIGHT crazy.
Only problem is, Lily’s not a girl. Not right now.
Her animal’s free. The beautiful she-wolf with silver fur and eagle’s wings that shine metallic blue green and a snapping scorpion tail.
I barely have time to realize I survived the Dog God and the Bloodless Land before I’m summoning my wolf again, leaping over a few Harleys and landing in between my bloodmate and my mad-as-hell Pureblood crew.
Fuck sakes.
Always in the middle of a shit-storm.
The urge to say fuck it strikes me. Hop on one of those hogs and tear off into the sunset. But I tried that once. Running doesn’t work. The shit-storms always track you down—
Lily’s got one of my MC strung up on her scorpion tail. Another’s torn open at her feet. And now she whirls to face me. There’s no shock of recognition when our eyes meet.
Just ruthless, murderous intent.
The All Encompassing wants my blood.
Lily’s glowing so hot I have to lift a hand up to shield my face.
Some dumbass with more snout than sense leaps at Lily and fucking bursts into flames before he even touches her. Lil raises her head to the sky and roars a challenge.
A wall of gunfire opens behind me.
The End of Days Chapter of the Pureblood Predator MC is settling in for a fight.
Shit’s getting out of hand.
A hundred or more Purebloods are raging for the kill. I scent their bloodlust. Their…wildness. I have no idea who most of them are. Not my MC, that’s for fucking certain.
First things first.
I call the rest of my wolf, drop to all fours and run at Lily, expecting to feel her unnatural heat sear into me. But I get to within biting range and there’s no heat. Huh.
I nip at my bloodmate’s neck. She ducks right, lashes down with her scorpion tail. I step to the side. The tail smashes into the ground. Lily growls, uses her wings to hop ten feet in the air and drop at me.
She feels…slow.
Like she’s moving through mud.
My reflexes are lightning fast.
My wolf’s roaring, nose scenting the wind. There’s prey nearby.
This upstart bitch needs to learn what real apex power is.
I lash out with my claws. They slice into Lily’s flank, not deep but enough to slow her. She responds by snarling and opening her jaws. The blast of shimmering white heat she releases makes the Harleys around us glow red hot, then the gas tanks igni
te and suddenly we’re enveloped in a thundering fireball that rolls into the sky.
The heat doesn’t harm me.
Lily pauses. Scratches the ground.
Her head dips a quarter inch. A tiny gesture.
But my wolf senses it.
Hesitation. Uncertainty.
The Pureblood pack has us ringed in. I see Nash’s wild-eyed hyena and Blue the Kodiak and my bro Tate all pie-eyed smoking a giant bat and—
Mia?
Fucking hell.
The shit-storm of my life just got upgraded to hurricane.
Boom. Lily’s on me, snapping for my throat. A moment’s distraction was all it took. Her fangs sink into my fur deep enough to make me howl and her claws rake into my belly and for an instant I think she’s going to gut me. I manage to twist to the side and dodge her spiked tail. That fucking thing. I feel like strangling her with it.
Then the thought hits me.
What if Lily’s animal doesn’t yield?
I’m powerful enough to murder her. Even if she is a Risen. At least now I am, with her pack gone and her creature uncertain of her rank in the world.
What if my bloodmate keeps attacking?
Self defense.
I’d fucking do it.
I’d murder her to save myself.
To survive.
The truth makes me numb with sadness. What did the sick motherfucker Vuk say? That we’re cut from the same cloth, him and I. Two apex predators whose only concern is survival.
I laughed him off.
But maybe he was right.
My wounds heal up faster than ever. I leap at my bloodmate, land on her back, let my weight carry her to the ground. Lily howls and thrashes beneath me. The fires burn bright. I sink my teeth into her back. Lily looses a pained moan. Her stinger slams into my side, just in front of my hind leg. The pain makes me chomp down, through fur and muscle and sinew, until my fangs rake against Lily’s spine.
Lily’s front legs buckle.
A roar of triumph rises from the Purebloods surrounding us.
They think I’m going to murder her.
Feed on her heart.
They’re right.
I’ve had enough of this bitch. Nothing but drama since day one. And I’m still pissed at what she did to—
The All Consuming: A Shifter MC Novel (Pureblood Predator MC Book 4) Page 6