The Dead Ringer (A Standalone Reverse Harem Romance) by Michaela Haze

Author:Michaela Haze [Haze, Michaela]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dirty Jeans Publishing
Published: 2019-11-22T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Flames as tall as skyscrapers roared and crackled, their bright appendages reaching ever higher in the search for material to burn. The sky above was black with thick plumes of smoke, a drape over the landscape battered back only by the never-ending fire as far as the eye could see.

The back of my throat burned. The smell of burning rubber made me move my feet, only to discover that I had left behind the melted sole of my sneakers.

Davenport was nowhere to be seen. The hissing growl of the fire blocked out all noise. Cracking and popping as I continued to walk.

My skin felt tight as the heat began to penetrate my borrowed body. I continued to move as if the Hunter would emerge behind me at any second.

I tried to escape Frankie's body, but I was stuck fast. My lungs labored, unable to find anything breathable in the smoggy atmosphere. The air tasted like ashes and pain.

I didn’t want to die.

Davenport would kill me. I was certain. I knew too much about the Hunters. I had seen their compound. Learned their names. He would never let me live.

What had I been thinking—hanging around with a group of killers, eating up their attention and friendship like a starved child? I had been foolish.

I kept moving, even when each breath became tight against my ribs, and my lungs seized and cramped.

I didn’t want to die.

Drudes had a collective memory. I had felt the desolation and hopelessness of my kin as they felt their skin harden and their essence drain into the ground, gobbled by the writhing mass of ancient wyrms.

I had managed to break free. I had managed to escape the Bhakshi and Shāyati. I would be damned if I allowed a Hunter to take me.

But it seemed like the effects of the fire would drag my host's body into the sweet embrace of death before Davenport would ever find me in his own fiery Hell.

Perhaps that had been the plan all along.

The bare soles of my feet blistered.

I winced with every step.

Just as my foot lowered to make a connection with the cinders on the ground, the world slipped away, and I fell on all fours. The chilling feel of concrete was a refreshing relief to my burned palms.

I gulped air like a person dying of thirst and rolled over onto my back as I felt my demonic healing wash over my body.

My clothes hung from my body in tatters, turned to sludge by the flames.

My eyes took the longest to heal, blinded by the fire, all I could see were rainbow spots and dark blurs.

When my vision finally focused, Davenport stood in front of me. His arms crossed, and his legs shoulder-width apart. He looked like a man that would not be moved for anything. Still dressed in his shirt and trousers, his sleeves were rolled up, and his scuff had grown enough to mark the passing of at least a day.

My teeth were bared. I stepped forward only to find myself knocked back by a line of salt.

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