Black Blood (Series of Blood Book 4) by Emma Hamm (scary books to read .TXT) 📕

quickly,” he murmured. “Good things are enticing in the beginning, but they aren’t what people want. You have to feel the bad to know the good, and people always choose Betrayal.”

No. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Her mind was a chaotic mass of emotions she couldn’t name or feel through the numbness that burned like dry ice.

“I don’t want it,” she murmured as the Juice poured over her. “I don’t want this one.”

“And then sometimes you can mix them,” he said as the yellow and blue smoke swirled together to create the purest of greens. “And that’s altogether dangerous.”

Her next lungful of air tasted bitter. It settled deep into her stomach like an angry creature she could not control. Everything around her was suddenly useless. It should be better, not because it should be different but because it should be someone else’s.

She wasn’t good enough. She never would be good enough because there would always be someone better. A single person better. No that wasn’t right. There wasn’t a single person in her life that she wanted to harm, but suddenly, she did.

It wasn’t right to want to hurt someone. It wasn’t right to feel this way, but she did. Her fingers curled into claws on the wheelchair as she glared up at him and fought against the emotion that made her head ache.

“Stop,” she gritted out.

“Jealousy is dangerous. More dangerous than any other emotion, do you want to know why?”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“I’m proving a point. Jealousy is dangerous because it always leads to one thing. Even the Juice has a habit of switching itself around without a host.”

She looked up into eyes made of cold stone and felt a pit in her gut. He didn’t see her, she realized. He was looking at someone who needed to be taught a lesson, and she couldn’t understand why.

The smoke he breathed out was a violent bloody red.

“No,” she croaked. “I don’t want it.”

But this wasn’t normal Juice. Bloody and with a mind of its own, red smoke forced itself into her nose, her mouth, her eyes, her ears. It poured into her body until she realized that it wouldn't hurt her.

It would hurt everything else.

His hands slammed down upon her wrists, trapping her in her wheelchair. But she didn’t mind that. She wanted to hurt him any way she could. Her mouth twisted into a snarl and her brain raced ahead to find the perfect thing that would cause him the utmost pain.

“Rage,” he interrupted her train of thought. “It is always the natural progression of things. And then someone makes a foolish mistake when all they thought was one sip. Just the once. Just the first time with friends to watch over them. And then they always end up with me.”

The Rage inside her disappeared. With one final exhale, he leaned so close he nearly pressed his lips to hers.

Tears slipped from her eyes. She didn’t need to see this Juice to know what color it was. White smoke, glittering like diamonds.

His hand softened against her head until he was cradling her. Her lips parted in a silent gasp as he hovered just out of reach. So close that she could feel the heat of his mouth but not close enough to find out if his lips were as silky as she imagined.

“I created this one for you,” he said. His hand stroked her hair as the Juice took effect.

“Not me,” she told him as more tears tracked down her cheeks.

And it was true. This was not named after her, but the one who came before. She knew this through the blinding aftermath of so much emotion that she was left numb. She knew this as the wave of self-loathing and acceptance crashed over her head.

Regret.

It tasted like ashes upon her tongue and sounded like whispered secrets in corners. It felt like happiness for another and bitterness that she was still alone. It stung as it healed.

But pain was still pain whether it was felt alone or with another.

His thumb rubbed the base of her antler. His fingers trailed through the length of her hair and eased knots out of its path.

“You are her, although you do not wish to admit it. Every day you become more like her and infinitely more powerful.”

“I don’t,” she told him. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to be the person to tell you she’s gone. I don’t want to be responsible for bringing her back because I can’t.”

“You don’t have to try so hard,” he told her. Pitch leaned forward to press his lips against her forehead. The soothing touch made her ache just as much as it made fruitless hope blossom. “Sil will never be you, but you become more and more like her. It’s the magic, not the body. It’s the power, not the mind. You are her because you both started out as a bit of wax given a wick. And I will be the one to provide you light.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Only this time, in this dimension, I will provide you with all the tools necessary to make you into a firework rather than a candle.”

He withdrew from her. She felt cold and lonely in the absence of his unwanted heat.

“Pitch?” her voice carried into the darkness of the room but disappeared into his shadows.

Chapter 9

She watched the world die over and over again, despite her many attempts to save it. There was always ruin. Screaming. Women, children, men all dying and reaching out for help.

Lydia became afraid of the night. Not for the darkness, which had become comforting, but for the nightmarish future revealed to her in dreams.

Her body became stronger every time she slept although it remained a prison. Lydia had no control over what it wanted. Sleep happened with or without her approval. Nightmares were uncontrollable in those moments of vulnerability.

Sometimes she would wake up alone. Those were the worst nights when she saw people in the shadows, blaming her