Shades of Death by J.M. Muller EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Author: J.M. Muller
- Language: English
- Genre: Holiday Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
DEAD DREAMS
I plucked a hatchet from the pegboard, enjoying the feel, how the
handle’s curvature fit perfectly in my hand. I rocked it in my grasp,
letting the heavy head propel it forward. Someone had recently
sharpened the blade. It looked primed for killing.
If I could have removed my gloves to run my finger along the edge, I
would have, just to feel my skin breaking, to know part of me still lived
despite Narivous’ attempt to break me.
But by orders of the elite, i.e., Thorn, my gloves were ordained to stay
and—so I wouldn’t get any wild ideas—adhered to my skin. Literally.
Overkill, like everything else in this appalling city, but the toxin touch
had an ugly bite, and no one wanted to take any chances with me.
I twisted the handle, the thin mesh shrouding my fingers allowing for a
deeper grip, and took a step forward. With a small smile, I cocked the
hatchet behind my head and thrashed my arm forward, flinging it at a strawstuffed target.
It hit right above the bullseye. My aim was improving.
Immortality sure as shit wasn’t kind. It’d been five weeks since my
transformation. Five damned, soul-sucking weeks. Thirty-seven days if I
wanted to get specific—and each day was worse than the one before it. My
own personal hell, on its own personal cycle, and in that mess of time, a
birthday slipped in—although I wasn’t entirely sure it counted since I was
undead. Forced into isolation, the only reprieve I’d received was access to
this medieval gym, evenings only, when no one else wanted to use it. And if
someone did, I was automatically required to leave.
My illusory noose only tightened.
Unlike every other gym I’d been in, Narivous’ version of a fitness
center included deadly weapons and obstacle courses. The room was
imposing, large, and somehow, despite its expansive space, suffocating. The
gymnasium was on the Animal side of the castle, tucked toward the back,
blooming far and high to accommodate all their special training tools.
Aka torture devices.
I wasn’t going to dress up the truth with bullshit labels. You can call a
knife a letter opener and it doesn’t make it true.
Screw that.
Velores, of all shapes and sizes, came with special gifts. The Animals
reigned in martial arts and physical superiority, and the gym was catered to
their skill sets. Designed to hone their abilities and make them more
dangerous than they already were.
Unnecessary, since they had claws and superlative senses to begin with.
The walls were made of gray slate, leaving everything cold and somber
—with only climbing ivy to break up the muted tones. Above me, twentyfive feet in the air, rested long balance poles, with bars for acrobatics and
upper body strengthening.
To be part of the cool club, one had to make friends with heights.
There were sparring stations, and rock walls with hand and foot holds
set impossibly apart—unless you were a giant, which the male Animals
most certainly were.
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