Series: The Un Series by Izzy Sweet
Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 109192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Yet knowing that doesn’t help me one bit. As far as my mind is concerned, everything here is real.
The Prophet’s nose begins to drag down to my throat, and I hear him take in a deep breath.
Oh god, why does he keep smelling me?
“I want to taste you,” he rasps as his teeth scrape against my skin. “But I know it won’t be as good as when we’re finally together.”
I can’t stop the shudder that runs through my entire body.
Everything about the Prophet, from his hollow, unnatural voice to the way he looks, is repulsive. It’s as if my very aura wants to shove his presence away.
He’s not the right one, my body seems to be telling me.
He’s not Raphael.
The place between my breasts, the spot I found so annoying earlier, throbs hard. As if simply thinking Raphael’s name caused it.
Raphael, I think again, testing the theory, and feel the throbbing between my breasts growing stronger.
Cold fingers suddenly dig into my chin and the Prophet nearly rips my head off my neck as he forces me to look at him.
“You will not think of that pretender while you are in my presence!” he commands. His words rubbing against my nerves like sandpaper. “You will not think of him at all! He doesn’t exist!”
All the candles in the room flare, as if they’re in tune with the Prophet’s anger. Glowing so bright their light stings my eyes.
I squint against the bright light and resist the urge to cower in fear.
Instead, I let the pain the Prophet is causing to fuel the anger that’s awakening inside me.
An anger that wants to break through all the chains shackling it.
And start chanting Raphael’s name over and over inside my head.
I’m so tired. So damn tired of being hurt. Of being brutalized by this… whatever he is.
He may call himself the Prophet, but he’s a false prophet. He’s a sick fuck that gets off on controlling others and hurting those that are weaker than him.
“Stop it!” the Prophet demands, and the candles glow so bright I can’t see anything at all.
I know I should be afraid. He can snap my neck at any second. And I don’t know if dying here means I die in reality.
But the anger raging furiously against its chains won’t let me stop chanting Raphael’s name.
Won’t let me stop from reaching out to him.
With each try, the throbbing behind my ribs becomes stronger. And maybe I’ve completely snapped and lost the last of my sanity, but I swear I can sense him.
Sense Raphael pouring inside me and filling in all my dark, empty places.
The dark places where I’ve let the Prophet exist.
“You are mine!” the Prophet roars. “You have always been mine and mine alone!”
And that’s the last straw.
The words that send me completely over the edge of the abyss.
Without a care for my own self-preservation, I scream back. “No! Fuck you! I will never be yours!”
I don’t know where the rage comes from or the words.
But I embrace them.
I let them wrap around me like the black tendrils that melted off Raphael’s body. I let them embrace me in their protection.
“What?!” the Prophet hisses a moment before he’s blasted backwards, much like he did to Raphael.
With the blackness surrounding me, I can finally see again.
See the Prophet’s throne topple over and crack in half.
His body spills onto the floor, the bulkiness of his robe covering him.
Then I hear a low, vicious growl.
But the growl isn’t coming from the Prophet.
It’s right beside my ear.
A black mass lunges forward and a gigantic mouth full of fangs snaps at the Prophet’s body while something tightens around my middle.
I glance down and see what appears to be a thick tail as dark as a starless night wrapping around me.
“Begone, foul beast!” the Prophet shouts before he adds something in Latin.
The world in front of me smears and blurs, causing my head to spin.
I sway on my feet, but the tail wrapped around me holds me tight.
Experiencing a moment of nauseating déjà vu, I squeeze my eyes shut then open them again.
Now there’s only darkness, and no matter how hard I try I can’t see through it.
It’s so impenetrable, my heart begins to race with fear.
I don’t know if all the candles were snuffed out and the Prophet is lurking somewhere I can’t see him.
Just as panic grips me in its tight fist, I hear a purr and something wet bumps against my cheek.
I try to jump back, but whatever is wrapped around my middle won’t let me move.
My thoughts a mess, my brain melting from all this weirdness, I don’t know if I should be afraid of the thing wrapped around me or not.
I mean… it did attack the Prophet.
What if it decides to attack me next?
The wet thing bumps against my cheek again and the tail begins to tug on me, forcing me down until I’m on my knees.