The Soul's Mark: Broken (30 page)

www.ashleystoyanoff.com

www.facebook.com/AshleyStoyanoffTheSoulsMark

www.goodreads.com/ashley_stoyanoff

Read on for a preview of Waking Dreams, A
Soul’s Mark Novella.

Coming Spring/Summer 2013.

Sterling snorted, and her left ear twitched
to the side.  “What do you hear, girl?” Eric asked, stroking his mare’s thick
neck.  His teeth chattered, and his breath puffed out in a cloud of white fog. 
She jumped to the right, and pawed at the snowy ground, with jittery, nervous
strikes.  Her ears pinned flat against her neck, and she glared at the tree
line.

Eric searched the ice-encrusted trees for
what may have spooked his horse, but he saw nothing.  Creaks and cracks from
the trees drifted to his ears, as the branches sagged under the weight of the
ice, but aside from that, the forest was silent and still.  He stroked her mane
and cooed calming words to her, and after a moment, she began to settle.

Giving her a gentle nudge, he reined
Sterling back to the fence.  A gust of frosty wind blew through the field, and
a shiver prickled over his skin.  It had been a long day, rounding up the
cattle that had gotten loose during the ice storm last night.  Now, if he could
just find the broken place in the fence and mend it, he would finally be able to
get back into the warmth of his ranch house.

Sterling walked along the rails slowly,
picking her footing with care.  The sun shone brightly, winking upon the icy
ground and making the field look like a sea of glittering gems.  Breathtaking. 
It was sights like this that reminded Eric why he had chosen to live so far
from the village, on his own, surrounded by nature.  His mother had called him
a fool, not understanding why anyone would choose to farm and live an hour’s
ride from civilization if they did not have to.  But to Eric, the peace and
wilderness was like living a dream.

After a good twenty minutes, he finally
stumbled upon the broken rails which were buried beneath a crusty layer of snow
and ice.  Eric slid off of Sterling’s back, and gave her a pat as he unhitched
the fencing wire from the saddle, and then he got to work, breaking off the
crunchy layers of snow, and yanking out the snapped rails.

Once the three broken rails were down, Eric
dug through the snow for the spares, which he knew were resting just below,
against the fence.  He had just pulled the first rail free, when he heard
Sterling snort and squeal.

“Settle down, girl,” he said.  He dropped
the rail in place and turned, pacing towards her.  Her eyes were
wild—panicked—and her nostrils flared.  He put his hands up and he crouched,
slumping his shoulders, trying to make his bulky frame smaller and less
intimidating.  The last thing he needed was for her to bolt, and leave him to
walk back to the house in this frigid weather.  “Easy girl,” he murmured, as he
continued towards her.

Sterling pranced around nervously, watching
him with frightened eyes.  She snorted and began to back up with her ears lying
flat against her neck.  Eric reached out for a rein, slowly, carefully, and
just as his hand closed around it, she let out a piercing high-pitched roar,
and then she reared.

Too close,
a
voice in his head shouted, and he scrambled back.  His foot caught a patch of
ice and slid out from under him, and he landed on his back with a jarring thud,
sliding closer to her and cracking his head against frozen ground.  Her hooves
came down fast and hard, so close to him, that he was certain she would come
down right on him.  He tried to roll out of the way, but he couldn’t move
quickly enough.  And in a blink, she was on him, her hoof came down on his
stomach, and then it jumped across and skidded down his right side, ripping at
his skin and muscles.  She roared again, drowning out Eric’s wheezing cry.  For
a spilt-second, she looked down at him; her eyes were wide with fear, and then
she bolted, racing away through the field.

Eric couldn’t breathe.  He couldn’t move.  Black
spots danced through his vision, and a stabbing pain shot through his head all
the way down to his toes.  A warm wetness spread along the base of his skull,
and his stomach convulsed with pain.

Time stood still.  His ears rung, and he
couldn’t catch his breath.  He tried to sit up, but he couldn’t.  Even the
slightest movement sent hot waves of pain coursing through his body, paralyzing
him. 
Get up!
You need to get up!
he told himself over and over,
trying to coax his body to ignore the shooting pain and begging his mind to
fight for survival.  But no matter how much his brain wanted to survive, his
body was shutting down—giving up.

Eric didn’t know how long he had been lying
on the ground, fighting against his body.  It could have been seconds, or it
might have been hours when he heard the crunch of snow nearby.  It was
excruciatingly loud, and the sound sent shockwaves through his head.  A small
sense of hope gripped at his chest.  He forced in a burning breath, and opened
his mouth to yell for help just as a shadow fell over him.  He blinked and
shifted his gaze, looking for the source of the shadow, and he found it, but in
that moment, all he noticed was the pair of blazing red eyes staring down at
him.

“Demon,” Eric breathed and gasped, a wet
and painful sound, and he coughed, choking on his own saliva.  He tried to
scramble away, but the pain ceased him, rendering the effort useless. The demon
smiled, which might have been meant as a friendly gesture, but the dagger sharp
fangs that protruded from his mouth were anything but welcoming.

“What’s your name, son?” the demon asked,
folding his arms over his thick chest.  His voice was like velvet, alluring and
comforting.  Eric froze and looked back at him, mesmerized by the sound.  The
demon was tall, at least four inches taller than Eric’s own six feet, and he
had the same muscular frame.  He had no jacket or gloves, only wearing a thin
short sleeve shirt and woven cotton slacks.  His skin was flawless, the color
of ivory.

He chuckled, and his blazing eyes danced
with amusement.  “Your name?” he repeated, and his smile grew.

Eric opened his mouth to speak, but the
words were lodged in his throat.  He cleared it, and his voice shook as he
answered, “Eric Carter.”

The demon watched him with a thoughtful
expression for a moment, and his crimson eyes faded to sky-blue.  He bent down,
crouching beside Eric in the snow.  He reached out, ripped open Eric’s coat,
and lifted his shirt.  Blood pooled below his skin where Sterling had landed,
blackening his stomach.

“Well, Mr. Carter, it looks like you are
about to die,” he said with a matter-of-fact tone, as if it was common
knowledge, obvious even.

“Yes, sir,” Eric replied breathlessly,
wincing as the demon poked at his stomach.  For a moment, he wondered why he
was not trying to run, but then he looked back at the angelic face of the
demon, towering over him, and then down at his stomach, and he knew fear was
pointless and running, impossible.  Death was inevitable.  Even if he could
fight the pain and get to his feet, he would die from his injuries.

“Is that what you want?  To die?” he asked
curiously, cocking his head to the side almost like a bird.

Eric thought about the question, as if
there could be more than one possible answer to it, and then he shook his
throbbing head from side to side and said, “No, sir.”  His voice was a gravelly
whisper.   “Are you going to kill me?”

The demon cocked his head to the side
again, and looked at him with an intensity Eric had never seen before.  It was
a complicated look, filled with so many conflicting emotions that he couldn’t
pinpoint exactly what any of them meant.  The demon sighed, a long and gusty
sound.  His eyes grew wide and clouded, and the pleasant cerulean fogged as a
milky film swallowed them.  He lifted his wrist to his mouth, biting down, and
when he pulled it away, blood pooled on his skin.  He slid closer, cradling his
wrist as if he was trying not to let any of the blood to spill onto the snow,
and before Eric could comprehend what was happening, the demon pressed his
wound against Eric’s lips and said, “Drink.”

Eric squirmed and gasped.  The movement
sent shockwaves of pain coursing through his body.  The demon cupped the back
of his head, and held him firmly, with unyielding strength.  Eric could feel
the warm blood on his lips, seeping into his mouth, and his stomach rolled. 
But then he tasted it.  Tangy and sweet and spicy.  It was delicious and
disgusting all at once, and Eric couldn’t stop himself.  He opened his mouth,
latching onto the demon’s wrist and drank, swallowing mouthfuls as quickly as
he could.

The demon leaned in closer, but Eric didn’t
care.  All he could think about was the mouthwatering blood that filled his
mouth in a waterfall of goodness.  Skin tingling warmth spread through his
body.

The demon dropped his hand from the back of
Eric’s head, and then suddenly, his mouth was on Eric’s neck.  Eric felt the
demon’s teeth sink into his skin, but he didn’t care.  Nothing mattered except
tasting the nectar of his blood.

It was when he pulled his arm away from
Eric’s mouth, that Eric noticed the demon’s teeth were no longer in his neck. 
The disconnection felt cold, sending shivers along his skin.  His eyes became
heavy and drowsiness smothered him.  He wanted to ask for more—demand more,
anything to bring back the warmth and ease the pain of death, but his voice
eluded him.  He stared into the milky eyes, pleadingly, but the demon just
smiled a little.

The shivers came quicker, and Eric’s body
convulsed from the cold.  The pain in his stomach faded.  It felt as if his
mind couldn’t take it anymore and had given up—shut down.  Darkness grew around
him.  Then, despite all efforts, he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer, and
they drifted shut.