the damage, but couldn’t avoid it any longer.
He looked down at his wounds and his vision wavered. Even with the harness wound tightly around his torso, the impact had driven half of the steering stick into his gut. His knee, torn open to the bone, throbbed. Kneeling wasn’t helping but what else could he do? If he lay on his back, he probably wouldn’t get up again. And he didn’t have enough strength to get to his feet.
“Fuckin’ hell.” He spat blood on the white snow and it looked obscene. His head spun, so he waited for the nausea to pass.
Knox ignored the wreckage strewn around him—the shattered pieces still burning, random sparks, and even the falling snow.
He sucked in quick, shallow gasps. With the end of the lever jammed in so tight he thought of pulling it out, but that would probably make the injury worse. He stopped his barrage of thoughts long enough to grip the stick and yank it free.
A scream tore out from his mouth, echoing into the quiet night. Dark blood gushed from the gaping round hole, exposing his innards. The broken stick slid from his shaky, bloody fingers as he pulled the sleeveless shirt over his head to press it hard against the open wound.
His gut twisted, causing his whole body to spasm.
Hunger pains tore through his stomach as he smelled the people approaching before hearing their snowmobiles. His nostrils flared and he raised his face into the night as the familiar metallic scent filled him with a craving that almost drowned his brain. He could sniff the blood gushing through their bodies, pumping hard and fast into three beating hearts.
Fuck. That’s exactly what Amon had done to him in the middle of the arena, sniffed him like some sort of beast. He was already turning into the same monster.
Knox closed his eyes, hoping the sweet tang of blood, coupled with the captivating sound of the approaching hearts would fade. The words the old woman at the market had spoken filled his mind.
“The parasitic nature will soon overcome you. When the first drop of fresh blood hits your stomach and spreads throughout your body, the change will begin.”
“Hey, there’s a guy over here!” someone yelled.
“Is he alive?”
The vibrations of vehicles were replaced by thumping footsteps and a cacophony of drumbeats.
“I’m not sure. Let me take a closer look—”
Knox’s eyes snapped open as he reached out to grab the person closest to him. The man wore a thick coat but had pushed down the hood, exposing his throat. Knox capitalized on the man’s error and held him tight. His new fangs, already extended, instantly punctured the man’s skin just above a metal collar that circled his neck.
“What the hell’s he doing?” one of the other men called.
“I don’t know, stop him!”
“Are you kidding me? I ain’t touching him!”
Knox ignored them. It would be their turn soon enough. With the way hunger churned his stomach, he wasn’t done yet.
The man screamed, thrashing against him, but Knox wouldn’t let go. He gulped the blood pouring into his mouth as though it was gushing directly from a tap, and he relished every drop. The more blood he swallowed, the better he felt. His body warmed from the inside out, calming him in the same way the bartender had done with his eyes.
You’re a bloodthirsty monster now, Knox.
The thought didn’t stop him. Nothing would, because with every swallow his injuries were mending. He continued to suck down the delicious liquid until the man in his arms was ripped away from his grasp, forcing him to tear a chunk of flesh between his teeth.
He spat the flesh out. “No!” he growled, sounding more monster than man.
“You fuckin’ freak!” said a voice behind him.
Knox observed his other targets. He’d almost forgotten about them, but was now poised to pounce.
“The asshole tried to eat Moe.” A different hooded man dragged the motionless, bleeding one out of reach.
“Get him!”
A primal scream tore from his
He looked down at his wounds and his vision wavered. Even with the harness wound tightly around his torso, the impact had driven half of the steering stick into his gut. His knee, torn open to the bone, throbbed. Kneeling wasn’t helping but what else could he do? If he lay on his back, he probably wouldn’t get up again. And he didn’t have enough strength to get to his feet.
“Fuckin’ hell.” He spat blood on the white snow and it looked obscene. His head spun, so he waited for the nausea to pass.
Knox ignored the wreckage strewn around him—the shattered pieces still burning, random sparks, and even the falling snow.
He sucked in quick, shallow gasps. With the end of the lever jammed in so tight he thought of pulling it out, but that would probably make the injury worse. He stopped his barrage of thoughts long enough to grip the stick and yank it free.
A scream tore out from his mouth, echoing into the quiet night. Dark blood gushed from the gaping round hole, exposing his innards. The broken stick slid from his shaky, bloody fingers as he pulled the sleeveless shirt over his head to press it hard against the open wound.
His gut twisted, causing his whole body to spasm.
Hunger pains tore through his stomach as he smelled the people approaching before hearing their snowmobiles. His nostrils flared and he raised his face into the night as the familiar metallic scent filled him with a craving that almost drowned his brain. He could sniff the blood gushing through their bodies, pumping hard and fast into three beating hearts.
Fuck. That’s exactly what Amon had done to him in the middle of the arena, sniffed him like some sort of beast. He was already turning into the same monster.
Knox closed his eyes, hoping the sweet tang of blood, coupled with the captivating sound of the approaching hearts would fade. The words the old woman at the market had spoken filled his mind.
“The parasitic nature will soon overcome you. When the first drop of fresh blood hits your stomach and spreads throughout your body, the change will begin.”
“Hey, there’s a guy over here!” someone yelled.
“Is he alive?”
The vibrations of vehicles were replaced by thumping footsteps and a cacophony of drumbeats.
“I’m not sure. Let me take a closer look—”
Knox’s eyes snapped open as he reached out to grab the person closest to him. The man wore a thick coat but had pushed down the hood, exposing his throat. Knox capitalized on the man’s error and held him tight. His new fangs, already extended, instantly punctured the man’s skin just above a metal collar that circled his neck.
“What the hell’s he doing?” one of the other men called.
“I don’t know, stop him!”
“Are you kidding me? I ain’t touching him!”
Knox ignored them. It would be their turn soon enough. With the way hunger churned his stomach, he wasn’t done yet.
The man screamed, thrashing against him, but Knox wouldn’t let go. He gulped the blood pouring into his mouth as though it was gushing directly from a tap, and he relished every drop. The more blood he swallowed, the better he felt. His body warmed from the inside out, calming him in the same way the bartender had done with his eyes.
You’re a bloodthirsty monster now, Knox.
The thought didn’t stop him. Nothing would, because with every swallow his injuries were mending. He continued to suck down the delicious liquid until the man in his arms was ripped away from his grasp, forcing him to tear a chunk of flesh between his teeth.
He spat the flesh out. “No!” he growled, sounding more monster than man.
“You fuckin’ freak!” said a voice behind him.
Knox observed his other targets. He’d almost forgotten about them, but was now poised to pounce.
“The asshole tried to eat Moe.” A different hooded man dragged the motionless, bleeding one out of reach.
“Get him!”
A primal scream tore from his
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