Stricken (The War Scrolls Book 1) by A.K. Morgen

frowned slightly and shook her head. “Regardless, you should go home. I’m sure your brothers need you more than I do.”
    Killian opened his mouth to answer and then stopped short. The hair at the back of his neck began to rise. A rank odor burned at his nose—a combination of rotting flesh, diseased blood, and layers of filth. He heard the familiar, empty echo an instant before the kitten began yowling in Aubrey’s arms, scrambling for freedom.
    “What i—?”
    “Move,” Killian shouted as the front door burst open.
    A vampire barreled into the apartment, aiming straight for Aubrey. Pus and blood oozed from open wounds as he stumbled forward, snarling wordlessly. Saliva dripped from his fangs, mixing with blood from his dry, cracked lips.
    Killian dove in front of Aubrey, positioning himself to take the impact of the vampire’s lurching dash toward them. The demon hit him hard, slamming him into the wall. It splintered, shards of plaster and wood gouging at his skin before the pieces snapped in half.
    He leapt to his feet as soon as the vampire’s momentum stopped dragging him backward, his knee connecting with the vampire’s stomach as the demon opened his mouth to speak.
    Reaching into his sleeves to grab his blades, Killian spun. He plunged one knife into the demon’s neck, turning twisted speech into a bloody gurgle. He knew what the vamp was trying to say, though. Aubrey’s name still echoed in his broken mind.
    The vampire jerked sideways, causing Killian to slip. The blade in his other hand stabbed deeply into his palm. The silver burned as it sliced through his flesh, but the wound was the least of Killian’s concerns.
    The vampire reached out toward Aubrey. His lips formed her name again.
    She yelped as Killian grabbed the hilt of the knife and tore it from his palm before stabbing it into the vamp’s throat alongside his other knife, nearly decapitating the creature. Diseased blood splattered as Killian leaped as far backward as possible, curling his sliced hand into a fist to keep any of the infected blood from entering the gash on his palm.
    The vampire twitched once and slid down the wall.
    Aubrey’s kitten continued to yowl in terror as blood splashed across Killian’s shirt.
    He jerked it off quickly, shredding the fabric in his haste to get it away from his skin.
    “Son of a bitch,” he muttered when the shirt tangled.
    “Killian!” Aubrey cried out and then jerked him backward.
    His already precarious footing gave.
    He toppled over as the vamp’s fangs clamped together where his leg had been.
    Aubrey grabbed one of the knives still in the demon’s throat and plunged it into the thing’s chest.
    The vampire gurgled, blood spurting from the gaping hole in his neck, and then lay still.
    Shocked silence followed for a heartbeat before the kitten began yowling again.
    Terror stole the color from Aubrey’s cheeks as she stared down at the demon, horror flashing in her green eyes. Killian flipped to his feet and dragged her into his arms. Her entire body shook, trembling so hard she looked like a little tree buffeted by strong winds. But she didn’t cling to him or cry. She burrowed willingly into his embrace and looped her arms around his waist, offering comfort as much as she took it.
    The desire to kiss her rose swiftly.
    He pushed it savagely aside. “Do you recognize him, Aubrey?” he asked, gritting his teeth at the way her heart beat like a hummingbird’s wings against his chest.
    She shook her head.
    “You’re sure?”
    “I’m…yes, I’m sure.”
    “You’re not staying here any longer. You have sixty seconds to grab what you need,” he told her, pushing her gently toward her bedroom.
    She spun on her heel and ran into the room without argument.
    Killian watched only long enough to ensure she moved quickly—and she did, tearing things out of the closet and grabbing for a bag all at the same time—before pulling the dagger from its sheath at his ankle and decapitating