Book One in the Lycan Chronicles
Evander Rue had his entire life planned out even before he was born. He grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth and parents who never had time for him. A family who barely called or cared for him left him to be rais...
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Evan had broken his bones before; he'd fallen and cut himself. He knew what physical pain was, and he was no stranger to it. Even tried to cook his own food once, which resulted in him burning himself. So he knew what the taste of flames was. He'd gotten into fights over all kinds of things; he'd gotten several black eyes, bruised ribs, and busted lips, especially in middle school for running his mouth. He was no stranger to pain; it was safe to say. Or at least that's what he told himself all those years.
However, none of it compared to the burning sensation on his arm. He could feel the beast's teeth graze his bone, making him scream in unbearable agony. At first, it was the consciousness of having his skin ripped through, but once the teeth made their way through the layers of his flesh, he began to full the diminutive discernment of being set aflame. It was liquid fire traveling through every vein and nerve in his body. The sensation of being incinerating through just the inside made him temporarily blind as black spots danced around his vision. His bones dissolved into liquid, and he felt blood pour from his mouth. He thought it was impossible for this hellish feeling of torment to somehow impossibly enhance into a fate graver than hell.
The beast unhinged its powerful jaws from his arms, causing Evan to fall back into the snow, but he couldn't feel it. He couldn't feel anything anymore besides the pain. Tears fell from his eyes freely, but he couldn't scream. Not anymore.
Evan was completely paralyzed. All he could do was breathe in cold air into his lungs and wish for a swift death to end this infernal torture. The worst part was his arm, where he was bitten. He could feel his own blood drip down his arm, but it was as if he were wearing gloves that went up to his elbow.
He laid there in the snow for God knows how long, but he did notice that the pain was slowly dulling, and he could now properly hear again over the deafening sound of his heartbeat beating right in his eardrums. When regaining his ability to listen, he listened to the sound of a fight—gunfire and underworldly vicious snarls that he recognized as his attacker's. Like waking up from a dream, color and shapes returned to him, enough for him to see yellow eyes trained on a figure standing between him and the monster.
His vision was still foggy, so he couldn't make out who it was, but whoever they were, they were skilled. They dodged attacks and waited for an opening for them to counter-attack. Evan still couldn't move, but he could feel the tips of his fingertips and bones, at least now. The pain was there, but now it was manageable. Before, it felt like every atom in his being was tossed into a fire. Even the little hairs in his ears caused him pain.
