Mask of Poison (Fall of Under Book 1) by Kathryn Kingsley (great novels to read txt) 📕

to the side, exposing her throat. “I just want to taste you.”

“Don’t—”

Hot breath washed over her skin as he leaned in close. He smelled bitter, like blood. When his tongue ran up the side of her neck, she shivered. “That’s it,” he purred. “It’ll be good for you…don’t worry. My bite was always known to bring such otherworldly pleasure to those who experienced it. I wonder if that’s still true.”

Even if it was futile, she couldn’t help but shove against his chest. She could feel bits of flesh under her nails as she tried to claw at him to get him away from her.

He licked her throat again slowly and moaned in nearly explicit pleasure. “You taste so good, little dove. I can’t wait to drink you. Only a little, I promise. We’re going to be good friends, you and I.”

She felt the scrape of sharp teeth against her skin.

“Get away from her!”

11

Oh, thank the gods. “Lyon!” She tried once more to shove the man off her.

“Get away from her.” Lyon repeated his warning.

“No, I don’t wanna.” The man managed to snarl and whine at the same time. She wasn’t even sure how it was possible. “I’m not going to hurt her.”

“I believe it is clear the lady does not want your attention.” Lyon snapped his fingers, and the room was suddenly illuminated in the light of hundreds of flickering candles.

At the sudden blast of light, the man snarled and sat up. Grabbing his mask, he placed it back on his face. Now that she could see it, her eyes went wide. He wore a full mask.

A king?

But…which one?

What should have been white porcelain was cracked and yellowed. Entire sections of the surface were missing. Part of the mouth had shattered away up to the cheek, giving it the impression of a lopsided, deranged smile. And like all those with masks, she couldn’t see anything through the eyes or the holes. Just darkness.

He pointed a bloody finger down at her. “Stay.”

She swallowed, not sure what to do.

The man was dangerous. Violent. And a king. He could shred her without trying. So she did what she was trained to do. Live for every second. She nodded and stopped struggling.

“Good.” He poked the end of her nose with a pointed fingernail. “I wanna chat some more.” He climbed off her and faced Lyon. For the first time, she could see him clearly.

And see through him clearly. In the darkness, she hadn’t noticed the hole that went through his midsection, just to the right of where she had stabbed him.

But he wasn’t the only one covered in blood.

The whole room was splattered with it. Arcs of crimson coated the columns. Trails and smears on the floor led to piles of bodies against the walls. Their shapes contorted and broken, like shattered dolls thrown away by a petulant and bored child, their use having been fulfilled.

There were at least a dozen dead bodies that she could see. She was certain more were in the wings or tucked between pews. In the darkness, she hadn’t seen the splatters against the walls, having mistaken them for shadows.

“By the gods,” she whispered.

And she knew who was responsible for the massacre.

He warned her that only most of the blood was his.

Lyon’s reaction was just as horrified as hers. He took a step back, and with a grimace, the golden armor appeared on his arms, turning his hands to long-taloned claws. “Who are you?”

The murderous stranger laughed. The sound of it sent a chill down her spine and set her teeth on edge. It was sharp. It was cruel.

And it reeked of madness.

The man wavered on his feet, lowering his head. She could see now that his hair should be a bright platinum blond. Instead, it looked long neglected, matted and stained with fresh crimson blood and rusty brown. Bandages covered his body from head to toe, stained crimson and black. Crimson liquid pooled by his feet and dripped from his fingers.

Wounds covered him. He might have been more injuries than whole. He coughed, his body twisting in pain as he pressed his hand to his chest.

But still, he laughed.

Lyon stepped forward cautiously. “Step away from her. She has done nothing to you, whoever you are.”

The man just laughed again, harder, and it turned into a mocking cackle. He fisted his hair in both bloody hands. Finally, after their laughter calmed, she heard him whisper, the faint sound carrying in the echoey open hall. “Don’t you remember me, old friend? It’s so good to see you. Oh!”

He whipped around to face her. She shrank against the steps of the altar, looking up at the nightmarish figure with wide eyes.

“I remember now!” He sounded excited. “I remember my name. I lost it there for a second, but it came back. Do you want to know it? I’ll trade it to you for a kiss.” He reached down for her, and she scrambled away from him as fast as she could, trying to put as much distance between them as possible.

“Aw…that’s a no?” He sighed. “Are you sure? I mean…I’m bet I’m a really good kisser. Well, if I have lips.” He scratched his head. “Maybe a rain check? You don’t seem in the mood anyway. What was I doing?” He dropped his hand. “Oh. Right.” He tilted his head back and to the side, looking at Lyon over his shoulder almost upside-down. “I was chatting with my dear friend. Hello, Lyon. So good to see you.”

Lyon was staring at the man with a look of pure fear, as if he had just seen a ghost. The name he muttered was filled with dread.

“Rxa…”

Lyon froze. It felt as though someone had thrown him into a frozen lake. Everything in him went rigid in fear. None of this was possible. None of it.

No, it can’t be… “You’re dead,” was all he could manage.

The man cackled again. He walked down the steps toward him one at a time. At least