Blood Infernal: The Order of the Sanguines Series by James Rollins, Rebecca Cantrell Read Free Book Online Page B

his left arm.
    He spun to face her again as his blood dripped onto the hot sand.
    She lowered into a wary crouch. The skin on her muzzle wrinkled back into a hiss. The sound chilled even his cold heart. She was a powerful foe, but she could not spend much time away from the tree’s shadow. She was still blasphemare , and she would weaken quickly in the direct sunlight.
    He moved to place himself between her and the safety of the tree.
    The threat agitated her, setting her tail to swishing in savage arcs. She bunched her hind legs and leaped. Yellow teeth aimed for his neck.
    Rhun met the challenge this time, jumping toward her in turn, a plan in mind. He spun to the side at the last second, dragging his silver knife across her burned shoulder. He landed in a roll, turning to keep her in sight.
    Blood flowed heavily out of the laceration, pouring forth like pitch, thick and black. It was a mortal wound. He backed away, giving her the leeway to retreat into the shadows and die in peace.
    Instead, an unearthly yowl burst from deep in her chest—and she was upon him again, ignoring the safety of the shadows to attack him in full sunlight.
    Caught off guard by this surprising assault, Rhun moved too slowly. Her teeth closed on his left wrist, grinding together, trying to crush his bones. His blade fell from his fingers.
    Twisting in her grip, he slashed down with his other hand—sinking that blade into her eye.
    She screamed in agony, loosening her jaws on his damaged wrist. He pulled his arm free, digging his heels into the sand and pushing away from her. He cradled his damaged wrist against his chest, girding for another charge.
    But his blade had struck true, and she collapsed on the sand. Her one good eye looked into his. The crimson glow faded to a deep golden brown before she closed her eye for the last time.
    The curse had left her in the end, as it always did.
    Rhun whispered, “ Dominus vobiscum .”
    With yet another trace of corruption removed from these sands, Rhun began to turn away—when once again a plaintive mewling reached his ears.
    He stopped and turned back, cocking his head. He heard the soft skitter of another heartbeat. A small shadow sidled out from the shadows, moving toward the dead lioness.
    A cub.
    Its fur was snowy and pure.
    Rhun stared in shock. The lioness must have been pregnant, giving the last of her life to give birth, a mother’s final sacrifice. He now understood why she hadn’t retreated to the shadows when given the opportunity. The lioness had been fighting him in her final moments to protect her offspring, to drive him away from her cub.
    The infant nosed the lifeless bulk of its mother. Dread filled Rhun. If the cub had been born of her tainted womb and had fed on her corrupted blood, then it was surely blasphemare as well.
    I will have to destroy it, too .
    He collected the blade that had dropped into the sand.
    The cub nudged its mother’s head, trying to get her to rise. It mewled as if it knew it was orphaned and abandoned.
    As he edged toward the creature, Rhun studied it cautiously. While it scarcely reached his knee, even such small blasphemare could be dangerous. Closer now, he noted its snowy coat bore grayish rosettes, mostly dotting its round forehead. The cub must have been born after the battle, making it no more than twelve weeks old.
    If Rhun had not stumbled upon the cub, it would have died an agonizing death under the sun or starved to death in the shadows.
    It would be a kindness to take its life.
    His grip tightened on his karambit .
    Sensing his approach for the first time, the young cub looked up at him, it eyes shining in the sunlight. It sank back on its haunches, revealing it was a male. The cub leaned his head back and meowed loudly, clearly demanding something from him.
    Those small eyes found his again.
    He knew what the cub wanted, what all young creatures craved: love and care.
    Sensing no threat, Rhun lowered his arm with a sigh. He slipped the knife