Aphotic Born by Elizabeth Myrva EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Elizabeth Myrva
- Language: English
- Genre: Paranormal Vampire Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Logan
Goddess above. Is this what death feels like?
Maybe I’m being dramatic, but Heaven help me, this is the worst.
When was the last time I was sick? Have I ever been? For once, the
hateful wolf usually clawing within me to escape slumbers contently in the
back of my mind, working as a constant reminder that my immune system
runs too hot for illness of any kind to fester.
Was I drugged?
Nah.
The thought’s dismissed almost as quickly as it skitters across my aching
mind. Manistique is close enough to our territory that infiltration is unlikely,
and I would have scented something in one of the many drinks my so-called
friends had demanded I consume the night before. The alcohol wouldn’t
have caused it, no matter how much I’d thrown back. Not when our only
option in blowing off steam had been the incredibly human bar on the other
side of the border. The piss poor excuse for liquor barely gives me a buzz at
the best of times.
An unsettled groan rattles my aching frame. Something important swims
in the back of my mangled mind — something waiting for me just beyond
the fog putting my wolf to sleep. Clearing a kernel of clarity through the
haze is a monumentally impossible task. Still, I try. Even as exhaustion
sweeps my body into a cloud of numb disinterest, that kernel works its way
through all the fragmented memories from the night before.
Where the fuck am I?
Breathing in, I fill my lungs with the faint sting of disinfectant lingering
in the stale air. Outside the too-thin door, humans meander about, preparing
for the start of their day. It’s early. The blinding gleam of sunlight stabbing
my groggy vision through the age-worn curtains barely covering the single
small window gives that away.
Moving hurts and I find it obnoxiously hard to extricate myself from the
extreme divot I’ve made on the unforgiving mattress. My bones are jelly —
uncooperative and warm jelly that’s slowly convincing me back to sleep.
It’s nothing less than sheer force of will that keeps me awake.
I glare at the rustic wooden sign hanging over the ancient box television
in the borrowed hotel room I can’t remember lumbering into the night
before. Live, Laugh, Love, it reads in fancy painted lettering. Which are
three things I don’t feel entirely confident I can do right now.
Another breath brings a much sweeter, fainter scent of honeysuckle to my
sensitive nose. Except… it’s more than that. The soft scent wakes the sleepy
giant inside me and brings me to attention in such a great, swift movement
that my stomach rolls.
Puke. The putrid taste clings to my sandpaper tongue as it darts over filmy
teeth, trying to find any semblance of saliva that may still exist there.
There’s a battle in my stomach that I’m steadily losing as my muscles
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