❝NOW THE DARK BEGINS TO RISE❞

Grunts and growls and whimpers punctuated the air, and with these sounds Kershov picked up the unmistakable scent of sex. His already ravaged muzzle curled into a fierce grimace, disgusted, but then he heard a high scream for help—and without hesitation he plunged toward the commotion like an avenging angel of death. His pitiless black eyes—narrowed into blades of flint—speared into the shocked face of a male mid-thrust, holding down a delicate salt-and-pepper lass who immediately reached out to Ker for help. Her words registered milliseconds after the ugliness of her situation. The glacial gladiator attacked because rapists made him sick to his stomach regardless . . . and he went in for the kill when his brain finally processed the girl’s lyrics, and he jumped to the conclusion that this worthless male was the vampire who had taken his daughter, and with a savage roar the Beast destroyed its bonds and sawed into its prey with cannibalistic abandon.

It was not Kershov who slammed the russet male into the dirt with all his force, not Kershov who was already ripping through every square inch of flesh he could reach with starving teeth. The monster knew no self-preservation or moderation in its rage—it attacked with everything it was, everything it had, talons and daggers flashing in the shadow and pulling fur off of muscle with delicious wet tearing noises. The leech never even had a chance to defend himself. Or—if he DID attempt to buck Kershov off—it was to no avail, for the bleached-white devil managed to duck around every pathetically blocking limb to gauge new wounds into those tattered maroon robes. If the Pharaoh had been in his right mind, he might have been more cautious in his assault; after all, he knew of the venom vampires carried in their fangs, and had no intention of being Turned himself. Except the blood-sucking bastard never even got close to biting the alabaster gangster. At some point, Kershov had dug his jaws into the meat of the vampire’s neck, right near the apex of his throat, and was squeezing pressing throttling until his prey’s breath began to rattle with the effort of inhalation, and just when Ker was about to yank his head back and spill the parasite’s insides the younger varg somehow tore himself away, tail between his legs, making pathetic noises in his ruined vocal cords.

Panting. Shaking. Blood pooling from his parted lips like ropes of drool. Kershov stood there in the darkness, icy numb with adrenalin, tail thrashing violently and every last charcoal feather on his back spiked high. After a few smoky breaths, he turned to look over his shoulder at the sullied lass, blinking at her dispassionately and licking crimson stains from the corners of his maw. Mostly, he succeeded in smearing the lurid war-paint across his snout . . . bits of tissue and viscous red liquid tracing the puckered lines of scarred skin and clinging to his rows of exposed knives.

“You say you know where my daughter is?” The contrast of his level, chilled vocals with his hellish appearance was haunting. He might have been asking the fae if she casually knew anyone in his pack, or if she’d scented a rabbit nearby. Movements hunched, tense, Kershov turned so that he faced her fully, head tilted ever so slightly. “Tell me everything you know. Because though I sympathize with what you’ve just gone through, I will not hesitate to torture you further if you impede my mission.”

❝NOW THE DARK IS TAKING OVER❞

♛〖 King of Uyaraut ✦ bonded to Athene ✦ father of many ✦ xathira 〗♛