Page 74 of Blood Code

Sigh. So awful.

To taunt them, I solidified completely and blew them a kiss. Then I pulled a knife from one of my victims, blood splattering all across my face and dress.

Ah, my crimson painting.

I had promised that I would paint the room red, hadn’t I? Well, if I didn’t, I certainly was doing that now.

A wicked smile spread across my face as one of the guards finally grew some balls and tried to attack me.

I dodged him.

But I didn’t need to be in my ghost form to be deadly. My knife drove upward into his throat.

Oops. My bad.

The battle continued much like this, with me switching between forms as I slaughtered the men throughout the building. It was never a fair fight. One couldn’t fight the air, just as these men couldn’t fight me.

Twenty men lay bleeding at my feet, their life force slowly draining away. I sighed because their deaths weren’t slow enough for my liking, but they would have to do.

Especially since my body had begun flickering in and out of existence on its own, and a boulder of exhaustion came crashing down on me.

Well, fuck.

I’d switched forms too many times, even when solidifying only my hands.

Shit. I didn’t know what to do?

Was it better to stay in ghost form with my hands solid, or become fully human? I didn’t know.

I rubbed my eyebrows with my thumbs, thinking.

Being half-transformed probably wasn’t helping, so I decided to finish this in human form, which was dangerous.

But I was a trained assassin—even as a human.

Fifteen men remained, and now I’d have to rely on my actual combat skills to take them out.

But I still had the element of surprise on my side.

So before I solidified fully into a human again, I managed to fatally wound three more, my body flickering between invisible and ghost forms.

Twelve men left. Most were cowering, but some grew braver when I finally solidified into the form of a fragile woman. One who many of them had dominated over and over again.

In their arrogance, they thought they could kill me now.

I scratched my head with the handle of my knife and stared at them. How many of these men had raped me?

I’d lost count of how many Lethe had rented me because the days and their faces blurred together.

Could’ve been fifty. Could’ve been hundreds.

It didn’t fucking matter.

I shrugged.

There was no real way of knowing. Many had rented me multiple times, over and over and over again—like Aleksandr, Severin’s father, who loved raping me. Others had only rented me once.

An unhinged laugh spilled from my lips as I held out my hand, curling my fingers seductively for the remaining men to come get me.