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

two, three strikes nearly broke his wrist. But the manacles were shattered under a strength that should not have been able to be exerted in Wren’s tiny body. But he was not Wren. Some of his strength was left over in his soul.

She would feel the pain when she woke up. But he did not feel pain the same way as others. He had been raised in fire and blood. He had been brought pain every day.

Standing, he walked towards the iron bars that stood in the way of their freedom. Cracking his neck, he grit his jaw.

“Any ideas?”

The smoke that made up E’s form roiled in his head. His eyes flipped backwards as another took his place controlling Wren’s battered body. Her hip cocked to the side, she clapped her hands in glee.

“Oh this will be fun! Iron.”

Wren leaned forward to breathe in deeply the smell of the metal that would hurt her body. But the soul wasn’t allergic to iron. It wasn’t allergic to much as it was a creature that had once spread disease like wildfire.

She squeezed through the bars and cracked a few ribs. When she was on the other side, the whimpering creature receded to allow the warlord to take control once more. He could handle the pain where the others could not.

He had always taken Wren’s pain.

He used her eyes to scan the room around him for a weapon. When there were none, he cracked his knuckles in preparation for a battle and left the room.

A person rounded the corner. The man had not been expecting to see anyone. It was easy to see the fear in his eyes when the Warlord grabbed his throat and tossed him aside. He didn’t stop to see if the man was incapacitated. He had heard the creature’s skull strike the stone.

Picking up speed, the Warlord ran. Wren’s body complained loudly as her ribs became dangerously close to shattering inside her body. But he could not stop now. He would not stop now. Her safety was imperative.

The next person did not have time to turn around to look at Wren’s body that was hurtling out of the tunnel. The Warlord launched himself at the woman and snapped her neck before she could scream. He did take the weapon off of this one. The gun felt weak in his hand. He had always thought that human weapons were petty.

Still, it might help. He tucked it between breasts he had never had in his real life. Looking down, he arched Wren’s brow and grabbed onto the flesh.

“Not bad.”

“You’d think you’d be used to it.” The female voice came from the shadows.

The Warlord spun Wren’s body around to stare at the woman who slowly moved forward. She was using a wicked green blade to clean the dirt from underneath her nails. He recognized that blade. Poison decorated its edges.

“Djinn.”

“Unless you aren’t sweet little bird-like Wren,” she crooned. “And you’re something else entirely.”

“You should tread lightly,” the Warlord growled. “I know your tricks.”

“Ah yes,” the woman nodded, and smoke curled out of her lips. “I sensed a bit of a kindred soul inside you.”

“Not kindred. Stronger and certainly more powerful.”

“I think I’m going to kill you,” the Djinn whispered. Her long dark hair flicked over her shoulder as she exhaled smoke from her pretty pink lips. “The master will win without you.”

The warlord said nothing. He knew that talk before a battle such as this had very little purpose. She was trying to anger him. To throw him off balance so that she might harm him.

He would not fall for this trickery.

“Stop talking, witch.” He licked his teeth and wished Wren’s body wasn’t quite so weak.

The Djinn’s feral grin flashed before she ran towards him. He thought he would be prepared, but he was not. Her legs wrapped around him and dropped him onto the floor. Her weight pinned him down.

He rolled, forcing her legs to unlock or he would dislocate them. Wren’s ribs contracted painfully as one of them cracked completely. The shard of bone would bother him during this fight. He needed to focus.

The Djinn was already on her feet. “Poor little Legion. Unable to really utilize those powers in such a weak little body.”

He snarled at her. Wren wasn’t able to stand. Her body was too weak and his vision was skewed.

“This is going to be too easy,” the Djinn said with a disappointed tone. She sighed and sprinted towards him again.

This time he was ready. He knew this trick already. Wren’s body might be weak, but he wasn’t tired at all. He dodged her at the last second and pushed hard against her right shoulder. She spun and slammed hard against the ground. The satisfying sound of bone cracking made him smile.

The Djinn spat blood onto the ground. Her pretty mouth was marred with a streak of red. Her elbows jutted towards the ceiling as she pushed herself up and glared at him through a curtain of dark hair.

“That wasn’t very nice.”

“And you’re kind of ugly.”

The words did exactly what the Warlord wanted. The Djinn snarled and made a mistake. He knew that his body was too weak to continue fighting like this. She launched herself at Wren, and he did the same.

That wicked green blade was buried in Wren’s gut. The Warlord snarled as he felt his flesh separate. But he wrapped Wren’s arms around her throat and watched as the Djinn’s eyes widened.

“Mistake,” he growled in a thousand voices as he cracked her neck to the side. Her soul screamed in his head, but he absorbed her. He absorbed the Djinn’s power as well and breathed in the smoke that would only strengthen him now. He knew how to use it.

Breathing hard, he let the body hit the stone floor. The blade was a white hot fire in his gut. But it was bearable. All of it was bearable just to get Wren out of this place.

Limping, he made his way to the mouth of the