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

more fitting for a man of his station. Not a young woman who feared him and the palace of depravity he created.

But he had never controlled Sil. She did not make her choices lightly and would insist he trust her. Pitch let go of the Wisp, inhaled, and tried to catch the plain woman’s scent for any sign of Sil.

All that hit his nostrils was the sickly scent of human. A Red Blood? He prayed Sil wasn’t that stupid.

“No,” he told the light. “Her body is unused to holding magic.”

She did not listen to him. When the mousy Red Blood looked up at the light again, it zipped toward her. For a moment, a bright glow surrounded the woman, almost making her pretty. The veins in her body stood out as white power streaked through her form.

She screamed. Her head tilted back as more magic unfurled inside her. She should have vaporized, or at the very least, fainted.

“One chance,” he muttered. “One chance and that’s it, Sil. Be gentle.”

The DJ stopped his music, and the crowd stilled as they watched the woman scream. Pitch’s locked his eyes upon the woman’s form. Her mouth gaped open, her lungs squeaking with the last rush of air, and then deafening silence surrounded them.

Pitch wished he knew how to pray.

He watched as a lightning streak of magic trailed from the woman’s chest, up through the thick artery in her neck and along the curve of her cheek. It burst into sparks along her hair, turning mousy brown to snow white.

“You’re going too fast,” he coached as he stepped toward her. His hands raised as though he might gentle her. “Easy. Make it slow or you will burn her out.”

A few creatures had struggled when the dimensions first collided. Magical creatures were too eager for a body, and too strong for a human. They tore through the flesh suit like popping a balloon. Souls could find another host though it was unfortunate for the human.

The Gorgon beside him hissed but did not rush to her friend. She reached for his shoulder instead while Sil’s chosen drew in a gasping breath for another scream.

“Pitch,” her forked tongue tasted the air as she spoke. “What did you do to her?”

He shook out of her grasp and did not catch the Gorgon as she stumbled against the railing of the catwalk. Red light blinked all around them. It was enough to give a man a headache if he wasn’t so focused upon Sil and the mousy woman.

The lightning bright tendrils of magic dulled. The skin along her jaw sparked, and tiny electric charges danced between her fingers. Her hands curled into claws.

Slowly, her jaw closed. The tension in her body eased, and she fell onto the floor in a heap. Her back folded over her legs which twisted beneath her. Her chest heaved in rasping gasps.

Pitch dropped to his knees and gathered her limp form in his arms. He couldn't breathe. He had waited so long for her — the success was impossible to process.

Brushing shaking hands through her white hair, Pitch watched her eyes shift beneath her lids. Her face was tolerable, he decided. It was plain, but if that face could show the expressions of his beloved then it was a face he could learn to love.

Her arms dangled limply in the air until he tucked them against her chest. The magic settled under her skin, no longer striking out with electricity. She was breathing, at least. He could feel every breath rise against his exposed chest.

“What are you wearing?” he muttered as his hands danced down her side. The ugly gray dress with moth eaten holes bagged around her skinny frame. Hardly worthy of one who would grace his arm.

He noticed the dirt underneath her fingernails and examined her hands with disdain. Sil picked a human who needed her help. Her bleeding heart had always gotten her in trouble.

Sharp pointed heels struck the ground, echoing with an angry staccato. Her friends were going to intervene, and he didn't have time for such nonsense. Pitch blinked and time stopped.

Her friends froze with their hands outstretched. The dancers upon the floor became a macabre painting of drug addicts, prostitutes, and thieves. All sound silenced other than Pitch and the mystery woman’s breath.

“Sil?” he asked. His hands found their way back to her soft hair. “Sil, wake up.”

Her eyes opened to reveal a startling discovery. Brown. Earthen. Plain. Her eyes should swirl with silver strands. Sil’s eyes.

Frowning in confusion, he brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. “Welcome back, my love.”

He disliked her mouth. It gaped open as she tried to speak. Her upper lip was too thin while her bottom lip was far too full.

She whispered something so quietly that he couldn’t catch the words.

Pitch leaned close, his ear pressed against her mouth. “What? I cannot hear you, sweetheart.”

“W-Wh-” she stuttered before catching her breath. “Who are you?”

After those three words, he could hear nothing but the soul shaking shatter of his own heart.

A wave of nausea rushed through him. Surely he hadn’t heard her right. Pitch had not waited this long to hold her in his arms, only to have her forget who he was.

“No,” he growled. The word burst from his chest and shredded his being. “You remember me!”

She swallowed hard. Although she remained limp within the circle of his arms, he could feel the fear rolling off her. “What have you done to me?”

Pitch closed his eyes and turned his head from her. He ground his teeth and reminded himself that he was not a monster. Not anymore. Darkness and nightmares ran through his veins, but she had made him good. He would not harm her.

Never her.

When he opened his eyes, they were pitch black. He could feel the eddies of darkness within them swirling as he stared down at her. “Sil, take control.”

“Who is Sil?”

“Sil, now. Please.” Perhaps the human did not know a Goddess possessed her. Perhaps Sil was gaining her