I Am the Wild (The Night Firm #1)- Karpov Kinrade Page 0,81
breath is on my face, and I see his teeth are sharper than before. Mouth dripping with saliva.
“Say you were wrong,” he repeats, his voice low and guttural and beastly. “Or I will squeeze the life out of you.” His grip tightens. Nails that were once short and neat now dig deep into my flesh like claws.
“You’re a monster.” I spit in his face. And knee him between the legs.
He yelps, letting me go for an instant, and I rush away toward the stairs. A shadow flies across the floor, and Jerry lands in my way, clothing stretched tight over bulging muscles too large to be human, long claws sprouting from thin veiny hands. He must have dropped the torch and jumped over me, all before I could take three steps.
Words flow out of me, quicker than thought. “If you kill me, the Night brothers will make sure you suffer for all eternity. You will stain your family name. You will—”
“Where’s the crystal?” he roars.
“Not here. But I can get it.” I’d never give it to him, but I need to make him think I will as I work out a plan to escape.
“He has it,” says Jerry. “The one with red-hair. I saw the both of you leave together.”
“Yes, but—”
“Then it’s too late. He’s at the courthouse by now.” Jerry bows his head, defeated. He talks slowly. “Do you know, Eve, the greatest pleasure a werewolf can feel?”
I shake my head rapidly, my entire body vibrating with fear.
“It is the hunt,” he says. “The chase of prey. Digging your teeth into a ripe, plump, juicy neck. Feeling the blood spraying into your mouth. Feeling the pulse of your query slow. Feeling the life leave them.” He looks up, eyes mad and hungry. “If this is to be my last day of freedom, then I shall feel the hunt once again.”
He pulls his head back and roars, muscles ripping out of his clothing, skin turning dark and matted with fur. All the charm of his face is torn away, replaced by a wet snout and purple lips, long ragged ears and too many barred teeth. He turns into the monster I know him to be.
And then I run.
A howl on the wind.
A beast on my heels.
I take the stairs. Not down, as I would have liked, for Jerry blocked that path. But up.
The torch, left at the base of the room, is dimming now and provides me little light as I climb. The staircase, which has railings but isn’t surrounded by walls, zigzags toward the ceiling, and I realize I will soon reach the roof with nowhere else to run. That won’t do. So I look out to my side, to the beams and pulleys holding up the church bell. Below, a shadow moves to the base of the stairs. He is taking his time, creeping in the darkness.
I carefully climb onto the railing, reaching out for a rope. My arms aren’t long enough. I’ll need to jump. And quietly, because I need Jerry to still think I’m on the stairs.
Gritting my teeth, I take one slow breath, and leap forward, hands fumbling clumsily in front of me. They find purchase, but slip, the coarse rope burning my skin as I tighten my grip to stop from falling. My descent slows and I hang near the ceiling, biting my lips shut though my entire body needs to scream.
The rope steadies. I allow myself one more breath. Slow. Quiet.
Then I pull myself higher and clasp one of the wooden beams holding up the church bell. My muscles straining, cold and restless, I climb up onto the beam, and lie flat as I crawl forward toward a rope at the other end. Then I can slide down and take the stairs.
One breath. Two.
I’m almost there.
The stairs behind me creak.
And I know he’s standing where I stood a moment ago.
Keep moving, Jerry. Just keep going up.
He doesn’t.
A sniff.
Another.
Like a hungry dog locked onto a scent.
I climb forward.
The torch is below me.
The rope within my reach.
I climb forward.
And something digs into my arm. Hot and sharp. A piece of splintered wood I hadn’t seen. I suck in my breath, burying all the pain blooming under my skin, and reach forward, my hand slick with blood, and grab hold of the rope.
Silence.
The quiet before the storm.
The moment before the predator’s leap.
I let myself fall, sliding down the rope, skin tearing from my palms in my haste.