I watch the blood as it seeps from him, pooling like crimson flame around his neck, trickling in rivulets of liquid fire onto the dense body below.
The body I've touched. I've held. I've kissed. I've felt wrapped around me for so long, holding me possessively, protecting me from those who wanted me lost.
The nightmarish thud as he hits the ground rages through my cells as a scream is ripped from my throat.
The horror of raw bloodshed is new to me.
I try to free my hands from the coarse rope binding them so that I can get to him before the eyes locked onto mine lose the blaze of their light and close for good, turning to ash before my eyes.
I have to get there so that I can touch him. Hold him. So that he knows I'm there.
He has to know I'm there...
I tried to stop it.
I tried to do what they asked for.
I tried to heal the wounds enslaving so many, to vanquish the demons so cruelly infesting their host, unwilling to let go.
They were too strong, too corrupt, too ravenous for blood.
I couldn't quench their thirst for torment.
I wanted to save them all.
I should have known it could only end in death...
The Blood of Black Oak is book six in the award-winning Black Oak series.
For mature readers.
