The All Encompassing: Shifter MC Novel (Pureblood Predator MC Book 1) by May Ellis Daniels
Authors: May Ellis Daniels
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not.”
My eyes and the yellow and black bands I paint across my face every morning.
Yes.
The offering’s afraid now. He stinks of it.
My prey has taken his first leap into the forest, on the run.
He’ll tire quickly.
Maul looms over me, reaches down with his left hand, grips me by the hair, lifts me to my feet. He’s shorter than me but built much heavier. He has a ragged scar running from his left eyebrow back behind his ear.
He notices me inspecting the scar and smiles. “You ready to die?” he whispers.
His breath smells like a sewer.
I don’t answer. My heart beats slow and regular. My breath steadies.
“You’re not afraid? That’s all right. I’ve killed men like you. Men who’re ready. You do yourself a favor and keep being a little spic bitch. Don’t fight too much and I promise to make it quick.”
Maul ploughs his heavy fist into my belly.
The air bursts from my lungs. I crumple to the floor, spitting blood.
“You like that?” Maul says. “How ‘bout another?”
He lifts me from the floor. His second punch snaps several ribs.
The audience boos and screams. They paid for a fight. I am not giving them their money’s worth.
The desire to rip the cage open and behead every stinking person in the room strikes me. This desire. It’s been arriving more and more—
“Fucking fight me,” the Maul screams. “You chickenshit bitch. You have to fight .”
Something stabs me in the calf. A bolt of electric pain races through my bones. My teeth tingle and sting and my mouth tastes of ash and burned blood.
The Keeper. He’ll shock me out of my trance if I’m not careful.
He’ll ruin the sacred offering.
I smell my hair melting from electric heat.
“C’mon then!” Maul screams, pacing around the cage and flexing his broad shoulders. “The Blood Giver? The feared and hated Heart Eater? What a load of shit.”
Maul steps to me, wraps his meaty fingers around my neck. “I’m gunna tear your fucking throat out, you filthy spic freak,” he sneers. “Then I’m gunna fuck your dead body. Give these fine folks a real show. Easiest fifty grand ever.”
Maul’s fingernails pierce the skin under my jaw. He’s shaking. His pale blue eyes bulge madly.
He’s close.
I see it now: the certainty of victory in his eyes. The bloodlust.
It’s best to release an offering when they’re close to murder.
The death spell is at its purest and most powerful. The One I Am Slave To demands this.
My lungs burn as the Maul squeezes my throat.
A few seconds more.
Just a few seconds more.
Yes. Now.
Quickly, like I’m lifting a burning coal from a fire, I reach up and pluck out the Maul’s left eye.
Only his left.
I could have done both, but then he’d be blind, and much too easy to free to the Night Wind.
Maul shrieks, clamps both hands on my throat and squeezes harder.
This is good. He’s a fighter.
The weak ones usually drop me in pain and shock when they realize they’re half-blind.
The Maul’s eye dangles against his cheek. There’s something comical about how it hangs there, swinging around like a testicle.
My choked, sputtering laughter fills the penthouse Temple.
I wonder what the Maul sees with one eye torn out? The floor below him and the my face in front of him at the same time?
The thought makes me laugh some more, even though my lungs are about to burst.
Black spots gather in front of my eyes.
Blood and spittle fly from the Maul’s face.
He’s screaming something I can’t understand. Cursing me in his native language.
The audience falls silent. Death has a peculiar ability to silence the living, especially those who live in fear of it. Death is sacred. We all sense this. We’ve built temples and cathedrals since the beginning of time to honor this truth.
Death is sacred. He demands blood.
I am the Blood Giver.
It is my role.
The Maul’s biting his lower lip bloody in his
My eyes and the yellow and black bands I paint across my face every morning.
Yes.
The offering’s afraid now. He stinks of it.
My prey has taken his first leap into the forest, on the run.
He’ll tire quickly.
Maul looms over me, reaches down with his left hand, grips me by the hair, lifts me to my feet. He’s shorter than me but built much heavier. He has a ragged scar running from his left eyebrow back behind his ear.
He notices me inspecting the scar and smiles. “You ready to die?” he whispers.
His breath smells like a sewer.
I don’t answer. My heart beats slow and regular. My breath steadies.
“You’re not afraid? That’s all right. I’ve killed men like you. Men who’re ready. You do yourself a favor and keep being a little spic bitch. Don’t fight too much and I promise to make it quick.”
Maul ploughs his heavy fist into my belly.
The air bursts from my lungs. I crumple to the floor, spitting blood.
“You like that?” Maul says. “How ‘bout another?”
He lifts me from the floor. His second punch snaps several ribs.
The audience boos and screams. They paid for a fight. I am not giving them their money’s worth.
The desire to rip the cage open and behead every stinking person in the room strikes me. This desire. It’s been arriving more and more—
“Fucking fight me,” the Maul screams. “You chickenshit bitch. You have to fight .”
Something stabs me in the calf. A bolt of electric pain races through my bones. My teeth tingle and sting and my mouth tastes of ash and burned blood.
The Keeper. He’ll shock me out of my trance if I’m not careful.
He’ll ruin the sacred offering.
I smell my hair melting from electric heat.
“C’mon then!” Maul screams, pacing around the cage and flexing his broad shoulders. “The Blood Giver? The feared and hated Heart Eater? What a load of shit.”
Maul steps to me, wraps his meaty fingers around my neck. “I’m gunna tear your fucking throat out, you filthy spic freak,” he sneers. “Then I’m gunna fuck your dead body. Give these fine folks a real show. Easiest fifty grand ever.”
Maul’s fingernails pierce the skin under my jaw. He’s shaking. His pale blue eyes bulge madly.
He’s close.
I see it now: the certainty of victory in his eyes. The bloodlust.
It’s best to release an offering when they’re close to murder.
The death spell is at its purest and most powerful. The One I Am Slave To demands this.
My lungs burn as the Maul squeezes my throat.
A few seconds more.
Just a few seconds more.
Yes. Now.
Quickly, like I’m lifting a burning coal from a fire, I reach up and pluck out the Maul’s left eye.
Only his left.
I could have done both, but then he’d be blind, and much too easy to free to the Night Wind.
Maul shrieks, clamps both hands on my throat and squeezes harder.
This is good. He’s a fighter.
The weak ones usually drop me in pain and shock when they realize they’re half-blind.
The Maul’s eye dangles against his cheek. There’s something comical about how it hangs there, swinging around like a testicle.
My choked, sputtering laughter fills the penthouse Temple.
I wonder what the Maul sees with one eye torn out? The floor below him and the my face in front of him at the same time?
The thought makes me laugh some more, even though my lungs are about to burst.
Black spots gather in front of my eyes.
Blood and spittle fly from the Maul’s face.
He’s screaming something I can’t understand. Cursing me in his native language.
The audience falls silent. Death has a peculiar ability to silence the living, especially those who live in fear of it. Death is sacred. We all sense this. We’ve built temples and cathedrals since the beginning of time to honor this truth.
Death is sacred. He demands blood.
I am the Blood Giver.
It is my role.
The Maul’s biting his lower lip bloody in his
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