Silver Blood (Series of Blood Book 1) by Emma Hamm (bill gates book recommendations .TXT) 📕

second. Wren was stunned as silence inside of her mind seemed even louder than the cacophony of sound that had rendered her immobile.

Her hands slowly dropped away from her head. Her fingers had swollen even further. They were so drastically different that she wondered just how long she had been kneeling on the stones.

Once graceful fingers now looked like sausages attached to the blue tinged flesh of her hands. It was highly likely that her wrists had actually been broken or perhaps so bruised that she needed to see a healer.

More smoke was blown into her face, and the haze of pain and confusion cleared. Her hands remained in the same sorry state, but she could not feel the angry throbbing anymore.

Dread made her stomach churn. She hadn’t eaten much today, but what little that was in Wren’s stomach threatened to exit her body via mouth. A deep breath expanded her lungs, and she tilted her head to look out of the bars.

A woman crouched there. A familiar woman with dark hair that looked like ink spilling down the length of her back. Wren had seen this woman at the warehouse.

“You,” Wren whispered.

The woman did not respond but smiled instead.

“Why am I here?”

The woman stood then and walked towards one of the glowing orbs in the corner of the room. She lifted the glass and brought it close to her mouth.

“Deactivate the portals. Our guest has found her way here.”

“Hardly a guest,” Wren muttered.

The chains around her wrists shifted. They curled tighter as though they were snakes who had sensed her nerves. Wren watched with morbid fascination until she gasped as the pain came rushing back.

“Can’t have that.”

The dress around the woman’s ankles shuddered as she walked towards Wren. The black fabric elongated her form and made her appear to stretch before Wren’s very eyes. She was a shadow, a darkness that was threatening to swallow her whole.

Wren liked to think she was a brave woman. She liked to think that in a time like this she would stand up to whomever was holding her captive. Or that she would escape and find her freedom.

But that was not what she did. Instead, she squeezed her eyes shut as three bars melted into pools of iron at the woman’s feet.

She could hear the soft padding sound of movement and could feel the brush of air as darkness stooped down in front of her.

“Open your eyes.”

The words were whispered in front of her, but Wren felt as though they were sliding down the length of her spine. She gulped and opened her eyes.

Black fabric fluttered around a hand that was tipped in clawlike nails. Wren tried not to flinch when those fingernails trailed along the length of her jaw. They left indents in her skin, just barely holding back from puncturing her soft flesh.

The woman leaned closer and closer to her until Wren flinched backwards.

“What are you doing?” The words burst out of her chest.

The woman arched an eyebrow in response. “Doubtful anything you’ll like.”

Her claws dug deeper into Wren’s cheeks as she descended. Her jaw dropped farther than should be possible as her mouth covered Wren’s nose and lips.

In shock, she inhaled. But what she hadn’t expected was sickly sweet smoke to flood her nose and mouth. The more she breathed, the more she wanted to breathe. Her limbs began to feel heavy, and her eyes drooped even as her mind screamed for her to stay awake.

“That’s enough.” The voice was deep and commanding.

Wren lurched forward until her palms struck the stone floor. She desperately dragged clean air into her lungs, but the damage had been done. Whatever the woman had done to her had already worked it’s magic. Wren knew the taste of Juice better than most.

But she didn’t know what kind of Juice it was.

A man stepped forward, and the remainder of the bars melted onto the ground. He was a tall and imposing man, though thin in a deceiving way. Wren knew just how dangerous this person was.

“Malachi,” she whispered.

The full red lips curved into a smile as he bowed before her. “I’m afraid we did not make you very welcome. My full apologies for such mistreatment.”

“Mistreatment?” Wren looked around the stone cell. “This is fine. Leave me here alone, I’m sure you’re a busy man.”

The long tail of his braid swished as he walked towards her. In any other circumstance, she would have admitted that the man was attractive. He wasn’t overly shaped as many intimidating men could be. Malachi was more the man one would expect to be intelligent as well as deadly.

Dark straight hair was held back from his face in an intricate braid. His high cheekbones and full lips were almost feminine in their qualities. His skin was delicately pale and every feature perfectly in place. Long, dusky eyelashes swept down to kiss his cheeks every time he blinked.

She blew out a breath but refused to back away from him. She wasn’t certain if the chains around her wrists would even let her. They had enough movement that she had a feeling they could prevent her from creating any slack in their length.

“I do appreciate a witty woman,” Malachi murmured as he reached out to finger a length of her hair. “Black does not suit you.”

It took her a few moments to realize what he was talking about. “Are you commenting on the color of my hair?”

“I do believe that you would look fantastic with a lovely shade of green.”

She arched an eyebrow. “I would have assumed you were a natural color kind of man.”

“Odd choice.” He backed away from her to look towards the woman. “It is done?”

She nodded in response.

“Very good, Alda.”

“What did she do to me?” Wren asked. “What are you talking about?”

He crowded her backwards as the chains jangled against the floor. Her feet scraped as she tried to slow the inevitable. He was going to do whatever he wanted with her.

“I need to speak with the creature inside of