Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 127527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 638(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 638(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Something slammed into the side of Teague’s bike, knocking it down. Pain streaked up his leg, arm, and shoulder as the bike went skidding along the road, dragging him with it; making the air ring with the sound of metal scraping gravel.
Shock made him blink. The fuck?
He lifted his head, and his insides seized. An all-black humanoid figure stood a few feet away, a ball of hellfire in its hand. A ball that then came flying toward Teague.
He swore beneath his breath. He didn’t have enough time or space to duck. He could only brace himself for impact.
The orb hit his helmet hard, sharply jolting his head, sending hot pain lancing up the side of his neck. The helmet suffered no damage, protected as it was by magickal wards, but it heated up fast. And, as such, so did his goddamn scalp.
Even as he pitched two high-powered orbs of hellfire at his attacker one-handed, he unstrapped and yanked off the helmet with a pained hiss. One of his orbs hit their target. The other crashed into a tree far behind it, lighting it up and sending bits of bark scattering through the air.
Cursing under his breath again, Teague flicked his hand, easing the flames before they could consume the tree and spread. His beast reared within him, wanting to—
A beam of hellfire soared his way.
He slammed up his helmet to block it. The force of it hitting the helmet made his wrist wrench backwards, causing pain to streak through the joint, but it successfully knocked the beam off course.
Teague threw the helmet aside and quickly but awkwardly pulled his body out from under the bike. He’d no sooner stood than a black swirling orb clipped his head. Solid as a rock, it blazed along the side of his scalp, burning like nothing else. Hell-acid.
His furious beast reared up again, kicking its forelegs. Feeling his upper lip peel back, Teague lobbed a flaming ball at the humanoid’s own head, going for those pure-white eyes.
A tentacle shot out of the humanoid’s front and batted away the orb. Then that same tentacle surged toward Teague, aiming for his throat.
Fuck that.
Calling hellfire to his fist, he punched the tentacle hard. It reared back a few inches. He gripped it tight and sent a surge of hellfire racing up the tentacle too fast to be dodged. The humanoid jerked back in pain, and the tentacle withdrew from his hand in a flash of movement so forceful that it almost made him stagger.
Teague and the shadowkin then went on to exchange blow after blow. Despite his attempts to duck and weave, a few hellacid orbs landed—one on his jaw, one on his kneecap, another on his chest—and he felt the scalding scrape of a hellfire beam down his arm, burning cloth and skin.
His fast-bruising wounds prickled and sizzled and blistered. The scents of corroding skin, burned cloth, and fresh blood clogged his nostrils. The adrenaline dimmed the pain, but only slightly.
Teague ground his teeth. “Why are you doing this? Why have you come for me?”
A series of telepathic images flickered through Teague’s mind, answering his questions. His nostrils flaring, Teague snapped his teeth shut as pure rage clawed its way through him, thick and vicious. Son of a fucking bitch.
His demon again bucked within him, rumbling snarls. It wanted to rise, but they were on a public road. There was no way Teague could let his hellhorse free here, where it could be seen by humans.
His entity gave no fucks about that. Not a single one. It violently shoved its way to the surface.
The beast felt a brief whip of pain as it took its own form, appearing in a billow of ash and smoke. The air quickly lost its haze. Holding its head and tail high, the hellhorse pawed the ground as it stared down its opponent.
Anger coursed through the demon, tightening its muscles and making its legs quiver with the need to lunge. The steed would destroy the shadowkin. In doing so, it would also send a message to the humanoid’s dispatcher that could not be ignored.
Stamping the ground with one leg, the hellhorse flattened its ears and bared its venom-tipped teeth. Then it charged with a roar-scream.
The shadowkin spun and fled toward the forest. It headed right for a thick shadow that was the silhouette of a large tree. The humanoid was incredibly fast.
But not as fast as the hellhorse.
It slammed its hooves into the demon and knocked it down flat. Giving the shadowkin no chance to stand, the steed kicked and stamped on it again and again and again—going for its head, spine, and legs with scorching-hot hooves.
The shadowkin’s signature scent of brimstone and smoke quickly became tainted with notes of fear and pain. The hellhorse drank it in. Reveled in it. Was fueled by it.