Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
He’s not like his brothers.
He’s come to prefer his solitude. Or so he thinks.
Because when a fierce woman with covered in blood comes crashing through the forest into his many arms, he begins to wonder if he might just want a consort of his very own…
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter One
THING
I was created to destroy.
My Creator-Father’s heart was full of hatred. The only thing he loved was power. For so many stretches of years, centuries, millennia, my brothers and I fought to bring him the power he craved.
We competed with one another to see who was the best monster. Our Father was the judge.
I was always found lacking.
Though I am the face of Death—one who swept so many humans from this plane of existence to the next (I lost count of the millions long ago)—I was never enough.
So I tried harder.
War after war, century after century, I swept through the mad darkness of battle and snatched men’s souls away. I took them down by the fistful—I who have so many fists. Six, to be exact. It was a mistake in my Creator-Father’s calculation to create a six-armed creature, but it is how I came out all the same. Six-armed and so massive, it is often more comfortable for me to lope like an animal on my lower pair of fists and feet.
I always came home to my Creator-Father at the end of each day, drenched in men’s blood, only to find him never satisfied. Or worse, to meet the angry end of his whip as punishment for his disappointment in me.
This is a cruel world, and I sometimes think I preferred the centuries when my brother chained me to the wall after my Creator-Father’s death. There at least, I had some measure of peace, or as much as a miserable monster like me would ever know. At least I could no longer bring ruin and darkness.
But now I am free once more, with the light of the cold sun upon my face.
I stand on the hard-packed snow and turn my face away from that bright star to look back upon the castle in this frozen land where my brothers and I have found our dwelling, far from the places of men.
The crystalline lake lies in the distance, snowy and ice-encrusted.
I prefer it out here, alone, to the new bustle inside the castle now that Abaddon has found a mate. Especially since their young kit, who they have named Raven, was born three months ago. She is such a. . . happy little creature. She gurgles and smiles and constantly grabs things with her curious little hands. My conjoined twin brothers Remus and Romulus delight in playing with her—well, Romulus does anyway—but I. . .
I stay back because looking at her sweet, beautiful, perfect little face hurts.
Yes, solitude is preferable. And only what you deserve.
I stalk the snowy land and gather wood for the fires or new furniture. There are so many rooms in the castle, and it is quite empty since Abaddon burned most of what our Creator-Father owned after his death.
I like the quiet out here. If not peace in the stillness of the endless snow, I find at least a kind of numbness, like the blunting cold that begins to make the feeling in my fingertips go dull, welcome.
I am relaxing into this numbness when suddenly—
Suddenly, I feel something.
A strange tugging from underneath my ribcage. It takes me off guard, and I move several steps backward. Only then do I catch a human’s scent on the wind and hear frantic footsteps in the snow.
Immediately, I step into the shadow, becoming invisible to the eyes of men. I crouch forward slowly, on alert, as I watch the narrow spaces between the frozen stalks of trees in the distance. Red flashes among the pristine white. Blood.
Immediately I go on alert and drop down on all fours as I stalk in the shadows. Shadow-walking is the other of my skills, in addition to realm-jumping.
I’m careful to stay quiet as I shadow-walk, crouched and quietly loping closer on my knuckles and feet. Thousands of years of being comfortable amongst the shadows have made me bold. I creep until I am quite close.
To my shock, I see the human is a woman.
She is not dressed for the weather. She has no jacket, instead only wearing pants and a shirt that bares her arms, both of which are covered in the bright stain of blood. The blood has accumulated on the shock of white-blonde hair and her face and neck.
She continues to run, eyes as wide and shocked as prey we chase down for food. She looks over her shoulder every few steps and continues her heedless flight forward.
Straight toward our castle. I frown, wondering if I should withdraw and warn Abaddon. He’s been so concerned and protective lately.
In addition to coming out for wood, I’m meant to be on patrol for anything out of the ordinary. We are under threat. Someone—an angel, no less—has been watching the castle. Romulus saw it when he scried. We do not know its intentions, but we do not need to know. Any angel-kind who returns to this realm will not look upon us favorably. We are abominations to them because our Creator-Father stole forbidden angel-spark from their plane to create us.