It wasn’t me. It couldn’t be me. The sound was hideous. It was a high-pitched keening, over and over again. I came to in a rush, my eyes flicking open just in time to see several demons dart away from the altar. Away from me. That’s right, get the hell away from me! My body throbbed, the pain immeasurable. I couldn’t believe I wasn’t dead. My entire soul screamed in wretched, numbing agony. The demons had taken flesh from everywhere. The blood loss was too much, the damage too great. I wasn’t going to make it. As it was, I was barely cognizant. Why was I awake? I couldn’t bring myself to gaze down the length of my battered body to see the damage. I was too scared. But I wasn’t going to be conscious for very long, so it didn’t matter. Surtr stood over me with his sword raised. Just end it already.
What do You think about Struck: (Phoebe Meadows Book 1)?
