Blood Rain. Amy Blankenship
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her from searching her thoughts. He had seen the color of her irises change before but only when she used her powers. That seemed to be the only time she allowed herself to feel the powerful soul she had imprisoned deep within her.
He understood why she unconsciously protected her soul from a world where mortal life and death happened in the blink of an eye. It was pure instinct but that fear was no longer valid. The second sheâd called to him from that dark cave⦠heâd sent her his power in the form of the mark on her palm. Heâd later reinforced that power by breathing his life-force into her⦠though she was not aware of the significance of such an exchange.
She now had abilities that she was not even aware of and he hadnât helped her figure it out for purely selfish reasons. She was already too independent for his liking. Although time was no longer her enemy and most injuries would instantly heal⦠she was still in danger from the powerful immortals, who had declared war on this city.
There was one more thing he could do for her that would help even out the odds, but he was trying to be patient, knowing she was not yet ready for the side effects of mixing their blood. He had made that mistake before. It was not the same as when their children shared their blood with their soul mates.
He lowered his gaze to the roof hearing the silence coming from the room below him. Besides, if he bit her now, she would see it as proof that he was exactly what sheâd convinced herself he was⦠a monster.
Being gentle with her was putting her at risk and it wouldnât take much more to tempt him into becoming the monster she needed. After all⦠he had played that role before.
Chapter 5
Kriss stood in front of the huge picture window of their penthouse with a bottle of Katâs famous Heat in one hand and an oversized wineglass in the other. He wanted to get drunk but his annoyingly swift metabolism wouldnât allow him to gain the release he craved for more than a few moments at a time.
Becoming frustrated, his hand tightened around the glass, accidently shattering it in his palm as he remembered seeing Vincentâs face for the first time in countless years. Granted, Vincent wouldnât remember the encounter since Storm had turned time around⦠but Kriss would never forget that expression of hatred Vincent had directed at him.
In rejection of that hatred, he rebelliously looked back on memories of his childhood, to the time when Vincent had felt the exact opposite for him.
He hadnât been in this world long when Dean had taken off to stop a horde of demons that were headed right in their direction. Heâd waited, alone, hiding among the huge rocks at the base of a cliff, following Deanâs strict orders to stay hidden and quiet⦠that this place was safe.
Dean had been right for the most part though. For days, Kriss hadnât seen any animals⦠much less humans or demons. It was the first time in his life that he had ever been left alone. The surrounding silence was only feeding the feeling of abandonment and fear as he waited⦠missing the love heâd received in his home world⦠missing the warmth and security that Dean had given him in this one.
It had been in the middle of the night when Kriss heard the sound of falling pebbles coming from somewhere above him. Heâd leaned back against one of the rocks and looked up at the face of the cliff where the light of the crescent moon barely touched it⦠only to see shadowy figures of several demons crawling down the face of it towards him.
His attention was riveted on the way their blood red eyes glowed as they watched him watching them, and the way their almost human like bodies contorted in the creepiest of ways as they descended. His eyesight sharpened, allowing him to see that their unclothed flesh appeared to be burnt and deeply scarred, as if they had just emerged from some unseen fire. Kriss could even smell the rotting of roasted meat as they grew closer.
He had been so frightened that heâd crawled backwards over the high bolder and fell off the other side, landing hard on a cluster of small sharp rocks that jutted up from the ground much like spikes. Finding that heâd been stabbed in several places, he struggled to rise from the rocks without doing more damage to his already wounded body.
The moment the scent of his untainted Fallen blood caught the breeze, he could hear their sharp claws scraping the rocks quicker as their descent became frantic, and several hard thuds, indicating some of the demons had simply jumped from their height in order to reach him first.
The silence was gone now⦠their disturbing screams echoing off the rocks, making it sound like there was so many more than there really were.
Scrambling across the rocks to get away, he only succeeded in ripping his clothes and tearing his flesh in several more places before he could get to solid footing and finally stand up.
Turning full circle, Kriss realized it was too late to run or hide⦠he was surrounded by demons and they were so much bigger than his small childâs size. He stood, frozen to the spot, as long clawed fingers came from behind him to wrap around his face. The sharp claws sliced into the bridge of his nose and soft cheeks as the demon drug him backwards, then abruptly jerked him up into the air as if showing him off to the other demons.
Heâd never had to fight in his world and Dean had never allowed him to fight in this one. There was a fleeting moment where he wondered if letting them gobble him up wouldnât be better than being left alone in this scary place. That thought quickly vanished when pain suddenly penetrated his shock, causing his instinct for survival to kick in with a vengeance.
With tears blurring his vision, Kriss had barely won his first fight to the death. Silence once again reigned across the area and he glanced down at what was in his hand just in time to see the illuminated Fallen Blade vanish from his bloody grip.
Feeling something weighing down his other hand, he slowly turned his head to look and saw the demonic eyes staring blankly up at him. His hand was in the thingâs mouth⦠gripping its jaw... he didnât know where the rest of its body had gone. He accidently scraped his knuckles on its pointed teeth when he quickly yanked his hand out of the demonâs mouth and dropped the head to the ground.
Kriss felt nothing as it rolled away from him then got hung up on a rock that had poked it right in its ugly eye. He thought he heard someone laughing but decided it must have come from inside him somewhere because everything else was dead.
Unable to handle the rancid smell or the sight of their mutilated bodies, heâd turned away and started numbly walking toward the streaks of light that were just appearing over the hills in the distance.
Kriss didnât know how long he had walked⦠or even how many days it had been before he heard the strange sound of rhythmic stomping somewhere ahead of him. Heâd stood there swaying, trying not to cry, and waiting to see if he would have to fight yet again. Demon blood⦠he could smell it.
It wasnât long before he saw a human man riding an animal towards him. Parts of the manâs body was covered in some kind of woven metal and Kriss could see the long sword strapped to his back⦠the hilt of it sticking out within easy reach. Not seeing any blood on the man, he realized that he was the one covered in demon blood⦠had been wearing it this whole time.
That had been his first encounter with Vincent. They had stared at each other as the man approached and Kriss took several steps back when he quickly slid from the big animal. His frightened gaze went back to the dangerous looking sword.
âDonât trust anyone except me.â The memory of Deanâs voice echoed inside his head in warning and Kriss turned around to flee.
âWait⦠donât run,â Vincent had called out.
The tone of his voice reminded Kriss of Dean, making him become confused in what he should do. He was so tired of trying to figure it all out. He glanced back to make sure that the man hadnât drawn his sword while he wasnât looking.
Vincent breathed a sigh of relief