Filed To Story: Cursed Legacies Series Free PDF by Morgan B Lee
Keep in mind that we’re all on a thin ledge right now, sangfluir, he says through the bond. You want us to work as a team, but with only half of us bound to you and Bael quickly losing control…
He trails off, but I see his point.
“You four could stay in here while I deal with it,” I suggest. “There’s just a high chance I’ll lose control, which means you’d have to kill me to snap me out of it once I start?—“
The angry roar that breaks from Baelfire is entirely inhuman, and then he grips his head, grimacing in pain. “Nope. Hell no. That is not a fucking option.”
I study him, noticing the tightness around his eyes and how he grits his teeth. Typically, he fights with his inner dragon on and off, but right now, it’s like a continuous battle.
My cheerful, charming dragon shifter is struggling a lot more than he wants me to know.
If only I knew the reason Everett, Silas, and I were bound, I could try to break his curse, too.
Even if it’s only temporary.
“Fine. Let me handle Douglas,” I tell them, trying to push that aching thought away as I slip on gloves and grab anything we may need in the event of a quick getaway.
Not three minutes later, the howling outside becomes noticeably louder, and then the entire cabin is surrounded by the chilling chorus. Magic flashes outside. I sense their attack on the magic wards a fraction of a second before a hellhound crashes through the living room window.
Everett freezes it immediately, but then they’re coming through the front door and the other windows, howling outside as bounty hunters shout and shots fire. Since chaos has broken loose, I spare no time dashing outside and spotting the leader.
He’s a large, burly redhead who immediately takes aim with his metallic weapon and fires.
The bullet lodges high in my left shoulder. I jerk back, glancing at the stinging wound. Lillian told me about guns years ago, but this is my first time seeing and feeling them in action. I suppose it would hurt more if I weren’t a certifiable monster who trained to tolerate high levels of pain for over a decade.
First impression? Guns seem so inelegant. What’s the fun of a fight if you can’t watch your enemy’s flesh part and their blood ooze around a knife, up close and personal?
A hellhound launches at me from my left, and my instincts send me into action. I duck under the monstrous hound, dodge its slashing claws, and then turn and fling myself over it, straddling it to get my arms around its neck.
Snap.
It drops dead as a fresh buzz floods my veins. I roll to my feet, breaking into a dead run towards Douglas. I expect him to panic, shout for help, or try some other idiotic strategy, but he stands his ground, keeping his sights set on me.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Three shots, all to my stomach. They hurt, but with the familiar rush of adrenaline that comes with a fight, I tune it out to keep my pace. As soon as I get close enough, I launch forward, grabbing his weapon and sending it back into his face.
Crack.
MAVEN
Breaking Douglas’s nose is satisfying—but it’s far more satisfying when his new injury doesn’t throw him off.
Though he’s dropped his gun, he’s already withdrawing a dagger made of blessed bone, aiming for where my heart would be. I knock it from his hand, but in an impressive display of agility, his other hand catches the weapon before he tries again to drive it into my chest.
I dodge, but a grin splits my face. Douglas’s movements are concise, and his technique is solid. So far, he hasn’t started monologuing or screeching like many people do in a fight.
“Nice to meet you,” I tell him, genuinely meaning it because a decent combat partner is hard to come by.
“Fuck you,” he retorts, trying again.
He stabs, I dodge, and when I test a savage kick to his side, he tries to grab my leg. I let him and then jump, simultaneously wrapping my other leg around his arm to bring him to the snow. He breaks out of the hold quickly, trying to slam the butt of his gun into my head, but I roll aside.
“We found your little one-eyed, rotting distraction in Maine. You’re fucking demented,” he spits.
“Thanks.” I dodge another strike.
“Where’s that depraved little incubus shit?”
Screams echo behind us, so shrill that we both glance over in time to see one of the bounty hunters literally clawing a fellow hunter’s face off. Another bounty hunter is tearing his own hair out, laughing maniacally, and shooting in every direction as blood dribbles from his nose, ears, and eyes. One moment, he’s there, and then Crypt’s hand flashes out of nowhere before they both vanish.
How gruesome. I grin.
“Looks like he’s playing with your friends.”
Douglas is pissed, and his next blow is twice as brutal. For a moment, we’re trapped in my favorite dance—the deadly tango of a good old-fashioned knife fight. He slashes, I sidestep. I stab, he swerves. Our movements could be mistaken as coordinated if someone stumbled upon this scene without context.
Gods, I’ve missed a good fight.
Other bounty hunters and hellhounds cry out, no doubt falling to my formidable matches. I’m not trying my hardest, but Douglas is doing so well that I decide to test him. Slipping Pierce from my sleeve, I butt the end of it into his forehead and take advantage of his momentary surprise to make a move for his chest. I don’t actually intend to kill him yet—this fight is too refreshing.
He breaks away to regain his footing, but it’s too late. He missed it.
“Disappointing. You missed a golden opportunity,” I sigh.
He wipes blood off his face as we circle, and I notice that his green eyes light up momentarily when one of the caster bounty hunters casts a spell nearby.
“Bitch, what the fuck are you talking about?”
“When I went for your chest, mine was wide open. I assume you’re not holding that blessed bone dagger for shits and giggles. Try harder.”
This time, when I launch toward him, I feign right before crouching to sweep my leg, connecting with the backs of his knees so he falls back into the thick snow on the ground. He shouts, but the moment I’m on top of him, ready to strike, he finally finds a new opening and drives the dagger into the place where my heart would be.
Fuck, that hurts. I didn’t expect him to actually land the blow.
Still, the thrill of finally meeting someone worth fighting has me grinning as the agony spreads through my chest and my blood dribbles onto him.
“Much better.”
Douglas blinks down at the blessed bone in my chest, then squints at me.
“What the hell kind of freak of nature are you? They said you were a revenant. This should have killed you.”
It might, temporarily. I was having too much fun, and now I’m at risk of passing out from blood loss, which would be really fucking inconvenient.
Instead of addressing his confusion, I shrug. “I’d return the favor, but you’re surprisingly fun to fight. Between you and me, I miss daily combat. So I’ll let your little ambush slide—but the next time you find me, if you target any of my matches, I’ll rip your beating heart out and feed it to you. Got it?”
Before my words can fully sink into his ginger head, I slam Pierce’s butt into his temple hard enough that he’s knocked out cold. Blood steadily trickles from his nose as I stand to check my surroundings. Several bounty hunters lay frozen or dead in the snow alongside hellhounds, but I still hear fighting on the other side of the cabin.
I want to check on my matches, but first, I need to make sure they don’t have a synchronized aneurysm seeing me stabbed through the chest yet again.
Yanking the blessed bone blade from my chest, I watch it crumble to ash. That’s the kicker to blessed bone weapons—they’re only good for one use. Grimacing as my vision wobbles, I use the hellhound’s life force for a patchy healing spell to get rid of the worst of the damage inside my chest.
By the time a very blood-spattered Crypt appears and pulls me into his arms, I’m no longer on the verge of fainting from blood loss. Everett is at my side a moment later. I check them both for injuries, but aside from a hellhound bite that’s already nearly completely healed on one of Crypt’s arms, they’re okay.
Where are you and Baelfire?
I send to Silas.
Not far. He was shot with a shifter-specific tranquilizer that prevents him from healing, but I’m fixing it.
My teeth clench at the knowledge that Baelfire is hurt, but Everett gingerly lifts the edge of my sweatshirt and swears.
New Book: Returned To Make Them Pay
On her wedding anniversary, Alicia is drugged and stumbles into the wrong room—straight into the arms of the powerful Caden Ward, a man rumored never to touch women. Their night of passion shocks even him, especially when he discovers she’s still a virgin after two years of marriage to Joshua Yates.