L. J. Smith - Night World 06 by Soulmate

Author:Soulmate
Language: eng
Format: mobi, pdf
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 10

The first sight of her broke through his animal state and gave him enough mind to stand up like a man. She reminded him of Hellewise. She had that same look of tender courage, that same ageless wisdom in her eyes. Any woman could be pretty by virtue of regular features. But Hana was beautiful because her soul showed in her face.

Seeing her made him ashamed. Seeing her defend him, intercede on his behalf as she was so obviously doing, made him angry.

He resisted when she sneaked him out of the cave and tried to send him back into the world. Didn’t she understand? It was best for him to die. As long as he was loose, no child, no woman, no man was safe. Even as he stood there in the moonlight with her, he was trembling with need. The bloodlust was trying to unbalance his mind, and it was all he could do not to grab her and bite into her soft throat.

When she offered him her throat, he almost cried. It wasn’t a sacrifice to turn her down and walk away. It was the only right thing to do, the only thing he could do.

And then the hunters came.

His mind was unbalanced by the torture. It was that simple. Not that it was an excuse, there was no excuse for what followed. But during the endless time while Hana’s clan burned and stabbed and beat him, he lost all contact with the person he thought of as himself. He became an animal, as mindless as the mob that was trying to kill him.

As an animal, he wanted two things: to survive and to strike out at the people who were hurting him. And there was a way to do both.

Throats.White throats, spurting dark blood. The image came to him slowly in his haze of pain. He didn’t have to lie here and take this. He was wounded, but there was still a granite core of strength inside him. He could fight back, and his enemies would give him life.

The next time a spear jabbed at him, he grabbed it and pulled.

It belonged to the broad-shouldered hunter, the one who’d led the others to him. Thierry grabbed the man as he stumbled forward, wrestling him to the ground. And then, before anyone in the crowd had time to react, he darted for the hunter’s throat, for the big vein that pulsed just under the skin.

It was all over in a minute. He was drinking deep, deep, and gaining strength with every swallow. The dam of the Three Rivers was staring at him in paralyzed shock.

It felt good.

He tossed the dead man aside and reached for another.

When several hunters came at him at once, he knocked them apart and killed them, one, two, three. He was a very efficient killer. The blood made him supernaturally strong and fast, and the bloodlust gave him motivation. He was like a wolf set loose in a herd of antelope-except that for a long time nobody in the clan had the sense to run.

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