Blue Blood (Series of Blood Book 3) by Emma Hamm (books to read this summer .txt) 📕

But the beast inside of them always lurked just below the surface.

She sighed and brushed her fingers through her hair. They snagged immediately in tangles, and a twig scraped her knuckle.

“I’m a mess,” she muttered, turning to find something she could run through her hair.

It was then that she saw them. The depth of the shadows in the back corner of her tent, pulsing with unnatural life. They had a heartbeat of their own that made her muscles tense.

Mercy wished she had Ignes. He would have burst their body into flames and protected her in an instant. Without him, she was just the shell.

“Who goes there?” Her deep voice rumbled through the shadows, intimidating and fierce.

The shadows moved. They had a life that darkness should not have. Sticky tendrils reached for her before they retreated back into the mass.

“A friend.” The voice echoed in her mind. “With a warning.”

“Rarely are warnings welcome,” she told the honey sweet voice. “I refuse to listen.”

“There is trouble coming.”

“Sent by you?” She peered deeper into the darkness, but couldn’t make out a figure.

“No, by Malachi.”

Mercy’s lip curled into a snarl. “He can try. He will not find us here.”

“He will find you. He is very interested in having you by his side.”

“I belong to no man.”

“Perhaps not Malachi.” The shadows thickened in one particular spot, not unlike the way Ignes appeared within flames. “But you will have to belong to someone. Otherwise, you are a ticking bomb waiting to go off.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I know of you. I know the future. I know the past. You will repeat the same mistakes you made long ago if you do not listen to me.”

“You don’t know that.” She didn’t recognize this voice, she didn’t recognize these shadows. But she was certain they did not speak the truth.

“If you had looked into the flames, you would know for yourself.”

She tugged hard at the tangles in her hair. “You speak in riddles, Shadow Man.”

“Perhaps you are the problem. You are limiting yourself by focusing upon me, when you should be focusing on yourself. Powers beyond your comprehension sit at your fingertips. You are simply not using them.”

Mercy’s mouth gaped open for a moment before she angrily shook herself. “How dare you!”

“I dare because I wish for you to succeed. You need a master. A teacher.”

“You?” She gestured towards the shadows. “An unseen face and a hardly impressive voice?”

That got the reaction she wanted. In one nearly inaudible snap, the shadows coalesced into a singular, tall form. Lean, dressed in black, with his clothes outlining hard muscles, the man was not what she expected.

This man was the epitome of sophistication and bad boy danger. He fairly oozed class, but he was casually leaning against a wall of shadow. One leg was lifted enough for the faint light underneath the tent to glint off of the leather covering his body. His ripped black shirt appeared more fashion than accidental. A lock of ink dark hair fell across his forehead as he peered at her through soulless, midnight eyes.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Someone who wishes to help.”

“You do not have the look of someone who helps others.”

The man crossed his arms over his chest. “Why does everyone always say that?”

“Perhaps it’s something in your eyes. They’re windows to the soul, you know?”

“All I see in your eyes is fire and brimstone.”

Mercy shrugged. “So you aren’t blind, then. Perhaps you should be frightened of me.”

When he smiled, she took a step back. That was no normal smile. The man was a predator, plain and simple. It was a small bit of magic to reach out and taste the air, scenting his power. Mercy knew immediately that he was considerably strong. His magic pricked across her skin like pins and needles. Shards of ice and black abyss, silent and cold.

His canines were delicately pointed, she realized, as they punctured his full bottom lip before he spoke again.

“I understand you wish for no master,” he said soothingly, “but you must take one or learn better control.”

“I control myself fine.”

“A quick temper and easily risen to battle is not control. That is the opposite, in fact. Not that I mind those qualities in a woman, just not in you.”

Mercy narrowed her eyes. “You speak as though you know me. I don’t think we’ve ever had the pleasure.”

“Pitch.” He did not hold out his hand for her to shake. “Let’s just say I have a bit of an Oracle on my side who says I need to be concerned about you.”

“Why?”

“I’m invested in your health. Stay alive because I want you to. Because the world needs you to.”

Now she really had to laugh. Mercy held onto her sides as the ugly sound burst forth from her body. This was not happy laughter but sarcastic and melancholy.

When she was finally able to speak again, she spat out the words like poison. “The world has no care for me.”

“The world has no care for anyone. We are all fending for ourselves, but I have a stake in you. In the prophecy.”

“What prophecy?”

He froze. Pitch stared at her, the unnatural darkness bleeding away from his wide eyes. His natural irises were black beneath the magic.

Mercy repeated herself. “What prophecy?”

“Damn it,” he muttered. Pitch reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigar. Fire flared, and bright puffs of yellow smoke swirled around him as he exhaled. “I’m here too early.”

“What?”

“Too early, as in not at the right time. Ask Jasper about the prophecy. And learn to control yourself, or take him as master. You only have two choices.”

Mercy wasn’t about to be ordered around by a shadow in the night. “Or neither,” she told him.

“No. One or the other.” The shadows curled around him.

“I do not listen to men who order me around.”

A long strand of shadow shot towards her. Mercy flinched away, but was surprised when it seemed to pass through her body, not harming her in the slightest.

“You will do what I