Nefeli. Strong, powerful, and feared by most. She makes sure order and peace exist between the races, but when mutilated women corpses turn up, she is on the hunt to find the culprit. Nothing can distract her, not even the painfully attractive daemon who is trying to kill her.
The tall trees and high rocks provide perfect cover for the night. Up in the trees I cannot
be sensed, and it gives me an advantage for the hunt. The soft sound of hooves and wheels
hitting the ground below alerted me of strangers passing. A wagon was being pulled by a horse,
about three humans are huddled inside bracing the cold. The current prey is not entertaining
enough, humans are weak, and do not offer any challenge.
The one I was looking for hid himself well. I could sense him nearby, but he did not make
a sound despite his large size. His footsteps were nimble. The wagon disappeared up ahead as the
darkness thickened. I turned around and looked in all directions, as I hunted him, he also hunted
me in this endless cycle of hunter and prey.
Sudden heat hit me from behind, I was just able to dodge the spell the daemon threw at
me. Damianos was a powerful daemon, killing him would send a warning to all the others, it
would tell them that even though I am smaller, I was not weaker. I had never lost a fight against
the other daemons. I had been hunted since I was little. I was seen as inferior because my shape
was similar to a human. I was not big like the other daemons, or as large, but my strength was
equal to theirs, and my speed went beyond.
My magic was powerful, I made sure to practice every day so that there would be no one
to match it. Being hunted, being the prey for so many years made me strong, it made me adapt to
my surroundings, it made me learn to survive, it made me unstoppable.
Thank you, Elisabeth Huerta and Love Books Group
About the author
Elisabeth Huerta lives in Long Beach, California with her husband, her dog, and two cats. Her love is for fantasy and romance. She loves to write about women who enjoy several dirty jokes. When not writing she is reading, preferably at ungodly hours when she should be sleeping.