Flesh And Blood: House of Comarre: Book Two (House of Comarre 2) by Painter, Kristen (best books for 20 year olds .txt) 📕

The beast snarled back with a mouth that held longer fangs and more teeth, then bent its head and plowed forward. It sliced out, claws shredding muscle and sinew.

Howls filled the beast’s ears and the stench of brimstone and blood bathed its nostrils like a sweet perfume.

The Nothos leaped onto the beast, raking its back with sickle-like talons, but it shook them off and shoved a fist into the maw of the closest one. Its fingers dug into the hellhound’s throat and tore out its spine. The Nothos crumbled, turning to ash as it fell.

Grabbing two more Nothos, the beast slammed their heads together. Brain matter splattered over its skin, hissing like acid. The beast laughed with a chorus of voices.

The Nothos hesitated. The beast did not. Dawn was coming and there was no time to waste. The host must be protected.

When the carnage was over and Mal had forced the beast back into its chains, he surveyed the ground around him, counting the piles of ash even as his body trembled from the beast’s exertion. Eight, nine, ten … where were eleven and twelve?

Hands dripping with the foul blood of the Nothos, Mal spun toward the alley Chrysabelle had escaped down. The cuts and gouges he’d endured in the fight stung now that he’d become himself again. His body craved the rest necessary to heal, and the pull of daysleep already weighed on him. Even the voices were exhausted. Dawn was minutes away. Going after Chrysabelle and the escaped Nothos was not an option unless he intended it to be his last option. There was no way he could find her and shelter before the sun came up.

Wounded, bleeding, and almost comatose with the need for sleep, he took off in the direction of Seven, the closest refuge he could think of, even though every fiber in his body and mind ached to go after Chrysabelle.

But that way lay death. And there was no way he was checking out and leaving Chrysabelle alone in the clutches of a man like Creek.

Chapter Sixteen

The scent of brimstone faded as Chrysabelle ran alongside Creek and away from Mal. She hated leaving him behind almost as much as she hated that he was right about what would happen to her if the Nothos captured her. The disappointment of not fighting side by side with Mal made her wish things were different, but it wasn’t safe for her to be near him when his beast took over. The voices hated her and the beast had already come close to killing her once before.

‘Explain.’

‘What?’ She looked over at Creek keeping pace beside her.

‘What the hell was happening to him?’

‘His beast was coming out. It’s part of his curse.’ She returned her gaze to the street ahead of them. Her sacre shifted slightly with the rhythm of her stride, tap-tap-tapping her back. ‘If you’re really KM, shouldn’t they have taught you about him in Kubai Mata school? I thought it was your job to kill vampires. I’d think he’d be pretty high on the list.’

‘You want me to kill him? ’Cause you’re making a pretty convincing case.’ Creek glanced back the way they’d come. ‘And, no, they didn’t teach me about every vampire. There’s only so much they could cram into my head in two weeks.’

‘He’s anathema. You know what that means?’

‘Yeah. Means dark is the only side he’s got.’

‘No, it isn’t.’ Mal was so much more than even she’d guessed. ‘He saved my life.’

‘Of course he did. He wants your blood.’

She slowed her run to a walk. Let the Nothos come. Killing one might improve her mood. ‘You don’t have a clue.’

A few paces away, he slowed as well and turned to face her. ‘You sweet on him or something?’

She stopped so suddenly she almost fell over. ‘You’re barking mad.’

Creek took a few steps back in her direction. ‘You at least care for him. And he certainly digs you.’

Her jaw went south. ‘You are insane.’

He held up his hands. ‘Fine. You tell me that’s not the case and I’ll believe you until proven otherwise.’

‘Good, because we don’t have that kind of relationship.’ Maybe that was a lie, but she wasn’t about to take some sort of personal inventory to sort out whatever it was she did feel for Mal. Not for Creek’s sake anyway. She stalked past him, then realized she didn’t know where they were headed. ‘Where’s this bike of yours?’

‘Around the block.’

‘Great. How about we make the rest of the trip in silence?’ She looked back at him and went deadly still. ‘Two Nothos, coming up the street behind you.’ Holy mother, what did that mean for Mal? Had they escaped him? Or …

Creek had his crossbow out a moment after she drew her sacres. The handle warmed in her grasp. Her personal sacre had been tuned to her during its crafting when the hilt had been filled with her blood, marrying the blade to her as though it were an extension of her arm. Now it vibrated in her hand, ready to taste Nothos flesh once again.

The wind shifted, bringing the sour stench of brimstone and the more subtle spice of blood. She refused to think about whom that blood might belong to.

Instead of waiting for the Nothos to come to her, she attacked first, blades blurring in a figure eight before her body. The Nothos retreated out of reach, leaping onto a nearby building while the second Nothos took three of Creek’s bolts to his torso in rapid succession. They barely slowed the creature down.

‘You need a blade!’ she yelled back to Creek. Those bolts might down a vampire, but they were on the slim side for the demon spawn.

Creek was beside her a few seconds later, a long titanium quarterstaff in his hands. Her hands were too full to tell him that wasn’t going to work either. Her Nothos snapped its jaw, spraying burning saliva across her cheek.

She swiped the spittle away with