18. Lina
Lina
T he battle ends with blood and silence.
One body drops to the ground with a thud that reverberates through the cavern. Fear rattles me. My sinking stomach somehow implies I lost something in this fight, but I surely had nothing to lose.
No result of that battle would have been good for me, but somehow, the visage of a man bloodied for me, carves into my soul.
The victor stands, chest heaving, staring down at the limp body at his feet. Blood drips from his face and arms.
“I never doubted you for a moment,” the red-haired priestess croons.
The monster of a man turns and meets my eye for one instant before turning toward the priestesses. In that instant, I can feel his simmering anger. I can feel the weight of his expectation.
You better be worth it.
I shiver at that thought. I cannot even fathom why two of these monsters would fight for the right to me . They are apparently both somewhat important in the cult. They’re captains’ sons? Or something. I hardly know what most of it means.
Why would either of them care for me?
Too skinny, too dirty. A woman of average appearance when they have god-like woman at their fingertips.
I don’t know if the victor was the first to call a claim or the stranger from the shadows.
All I know is that I am now at the mercy of the masked man who approaches. With black eyes. Inhuman fangs. And the blood of another still fresh on his skin.
He is now my own personal Dread.
When the blood-soaked Dread steps forward to claim me, I feel nothing. My body could not hold all of the rage and pain and fear. It was too much. I slip into the void I find in his eyes and know I may never return.