Claimed by the Bogeyman by Lisa Freed EPUB & PDF – eBook Details
- Author: Lisa Freed
- Language: English
- Formats: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Series: None
- Price: Free
- File Size: 1 MB
Fat raindrops strike the dark clothing concealing my earthbound form.
With a hiss, they sizzle off, sending billows of gray steam into the murky
darkness. Having arrived here with little warning, a single glance at my
surroundings is all I need. Plain and elaborately chiseled tombs gleam in the
piercing yellow moonbeams.
A deep chuckle wheezes out of my little used throat. I’m in one of the
cities of the dead, a cemetery. How quaint.
Sucking in a great mouthful of air, the material covering my wide chest
stretches and strains tight over thick slabs of muscle. The air brings with it
the taste of decay and sorrow. I roll the flavor around on my tongue, my
brows shooting up when a rare hint of sweetness stands out among the bitter.
Eagerly, my tongue roots for more. A feral growl vibrates through me
when I fail to find more of the intoxicating taste.
Hunger blooms, hot and unexpected.
My heavy brow slumps as another new emotion, puzzlement, fills me.
This is far different from what I’ve experienced before.
I have few needs in this form. Food and drink are only necessary when
the summoned tasks take additional energy that push beyond what simple
bones, muscles, and blood can endure. Whatever magic binds me here
usually suffices until I leave this body and return to the void where my
consciousness waits until the next time I am summoned.
This onslaught surging through my physical form brings with it an
aching throb that demands to be sated and has me swaying on my feet.
Like a hellhound, I lift my nose and breathe deeply, my claws piercing
the pockets of my tattered and frayed black coat when I catch a whiff of the
fragrance that calls to me.
Dashing through the well-laid out walkways between the towering
vaults housing the dead, the endless monuments are a white blur on either
side of me. My feet trip over themselves and I stumble to a halt, my ragged
breathing loud in the utter quiet surrounding this place.
The scent is strongest here.
Several hours old.
My quarry is just beyond my greedy grasp.
With a whispered click of my blackened claws, and a flash of my fangs,
I blend back into nothingness.
The hunt has begun.
I fall back against the seat, shivering within my overlarge pea soup
green wool coat. It’s damp, having absorbed the light rain like a sponge, and
leaves me chilled and miserable in its soggy and heavy embrace.
Each breath strains through my damaged lungs, and it seems no matter
how much air I vainly try to suck in, my body screams out for more oxygen.
Black spots dance in front of my eyes, obscuring the scenery that flies by as
Jacob drives me home.
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