Season of Sacrifice (Blood of Azure Book 1) Jonathan Michael (red novels .txt) 📖

were here for me. Having second thoughts? No worries, young lass, I have gentle hands.”

“Ellia! Ellia, let me out. Please!” I bang on the door a few more times.

The man approaches me. I backpedal again. This time careful of my foot placement. There’s a window near the bed. I run to it. It’s fixed. It doesn’t open. I look for something to throw at it. I see a boot lying on the floor under the bed. I rush to grab it and toss it at the window. Glass shards fly, mostly outward, but some ricochet back and fall to the floor inside the cabin.

“Whoa, young lady! You’re going to have to reimburse me for that.” He approaches more hesitantly as though I were a feral cat. “How about you just drop that sword and we have ourselves a good time. That’s enough payment for my liking.”

I’m armed! I was too caught up in the fact that I’m naked in a room with a naked man. I wanted nothing but to escape the situation. I have the leather pommel gripped so tightly my knuckles are turning white. I stare upon them, wondering if the weakest blood cells escape my knuckles first. I awake with realization. I didn’t come here to prove how weak I am. I came here to prove how strong I am. And he won’t come near me with a sword in hand.

I squeeze the pommel with both hands. I take a deep breath. My chest throbs up and down, and I see the man’s gaze admiring what he sees. “I came here with a purpose,” I say barely above a whisper. I lower the sword, placing the tip on the ground, one hand on the pommel, and I gently place the other overtop it and taunt him with a flirtatious rear.

“So, you’ve remembered why you’re here, have you?” He moves closer with a lustful smile.

“I don’t want my first to be pathetic,” I mutter to myself.

“First?” His lustful grin grows. “It won’t be pathetic. I can guarantee that.”

The man closes in and puts a hand on my shoulder. A fleeting shudder disables me before raw emotion takes over. I swipe the blade upward across his chest.

A large laceration splits open along his abdomen, but not so deep that it’s fatal. The man’s eyes, a rusty color, open wide with rage. He firmly grips my throat and squeezes tightly while shoving me back against the wall. Inadvertently, I let the sword escape my grip.

As he pins me against the wall, I recognize the pain pulsing through my neck. This man is familiar with his talents. The pain is excruciating. I grab both of his wrists and return it. At the same time, I lift my legs and slam them against his bloody chest. The air escapes his lungs, and a vast amount of blood sprays from his wound like a fountain of redberry wine. A taste graces my tongue. It’s much more pungent and metallic than wine, which forces reality upon me. Suddenly, I want to run. I want to flee this lust-stenched bedroom that is turning into a murder scene.

The man releases me and falters back. I hesitate. I can climb through the window and get out of this mess right now. I would endure several lacerations from the glass, but more so, I would have to endure the consequence of the Shadow. I’ve never received any discipline from her that was too harsh, but I believe her capable of far worse than what this man can do to me. There is an unsettling dark side to her.

I gather my courage and rush him with my sword outward as if I were engaged in a jousting match. The blade pierces his abdomen and drops him to his knees.

“I’m only fifteen, you pervert!” I pull the sword from his gut and swiftly motion to decapitate him. But I halt with the blade at his throat. “No…” I pause. “You don’t deserve such an easy death.”

I drop the blade and grab his neck firmly with both hands right under his jawbone. Flesh against flesh. “This is what it means to have talent.” I spit in his face then jerk upward with full strength. His head tears from his shoulders. All the flesh and sinew connecting his neck separates and liquifies into a black sludge beneath my palms. The skull is still attached by the spine, but not for long. The cancer spreads rapidly, and I give one more solid tug to completely remove his head. The body falls to the floor.

The lifeless man lies on the ground, headless, with blackened flesh enveloping it. The cancer spreads from the neck to the upper back, down his arms to his wrists, down his back to his rear and upper thighs. The cancer comes to a halt, leaving only two legs, a few digits, and one member remaining.

As I stare down at the decomposed remains, I realize I’m still holding the man’s head. His eyes are dark and empty and ripping apart my soul. I mentally grasp what I have just done. The disgust overwhelms me. Though, I know I must tuck those feelings away and never let them show or there will be consequences. I must be strong. Like Ellia. I chuck the head through the broken window for both spectacle and to relieve my frustration with the situation. It doesn’t relieve me at all. I reach for the discolored penis lying on the floor and throw it out just the same. It felt like the right thing to do. Either that or shove it down Ellia’s throat, but that wouldn’t get me very far. I drop to my hands and knees, splashing the cancerous blood-soup medley that saturates the floor. And I start dry heaving.

The door to the cabin creaks open on its rusty hinges. Ellia steps in with a stern look on