A Soul So Wicked (Moon Chasers) Read Online Free PDF

expecting someone to be standing there—or some thing . She released her breath in a shudder. No one. Nothing.
    She moved cautiously from her bedroom and stepped inside the living room. The front door stood open, explaining the cold draft. Her gaze flicked around the room.
    Seeing nothing, she approached the door with hesitant steps, certain she had locked it. Ignoring the cold bite of wind, she grasped the edge of the door, peering behind it and then stepping out onto the porch, her body tense and alert as she scanned the snow-draped landscape. Nothing. Calling herself all kinds of crazy, she stepped back inside.
    That’s when the dark shape materialized, moving so quickly she couldn’t even make out a face. Just a blur.
    The large shape filled her world, came at her in a growling rush. Hard hands closed over her arms, lifting her off her feet.
    She struggled, resisting, fighting, punching. Her efforts made no impact. Her fists bouncedoff hard muscle. Instinct took over. Desperate, she reached deep inside herself and seized hold of the powers she’d long avoided.
    Her gaze flicked around the room, propelling objects with the merest glance. Books and vases flew off shelves, striking him. It took only a look, the slightest whisper through her mind, and it was done. Unlike two thousand years ago, she knew how to summon her powers. Under Balthazar’s possession, she’d honed her gift.
    She aimed a clock at his head. He ducked it.
    When he straightened, she paused, assessing him.
    He looked her up and down with a face carved from stone. His lip curled in a sneer. “Is that all you’ve got, witch?”
    So he knew what she was.
    She let a vase fly, crashing it into his head and shattering the glass into a thousand pieces. He didn’t so much as flinch. And then she knew. Her stomach clenched. She was dealing with someone otherworldly.
    He moved faster than she could process and seized both her wrists in a single hand. She hid her wince. Just the slightest bit tighter and he could snap her bones.
    The list of otherworldly creatures was relatively short. This wasn’t a movie with sexyvampires bent on seduction. He could be a slayer, protecting white witches and hunting the demons that hunted them. But that didn’t explain what he was doing here. She was a demon witch—a lost cause as far as any slayer was concerned.
    So that left two things. He was either a lycan or a dovenatu, a hybrid lycan.
    Lifting her chin, she endured his hold. No sense in fighting until she knew for sure what he was.
    “What do you want?” she asked with a calm she didn’t feel.
    His eyes seared her. Her breath caught, froze inside her lungs. His pewter gaze was as cold as the world outside. Just the sight of him, the evidence of his existence, made her stomach churn.
    After a long moment, he slid his hands from where they clutched her wrists like iron manacles. She fluttered her fingers, letting the blood rush back. Rubbing out the imprints of his fingers on her flesh, she took a careful step back.
    Everything inside her sank and withered. He was a lycan. The first lycan had bred and infected thousands of people. Had killed and destroyed countless more. The creature before her was the legacy of that first lycan.
    Her legacy . A result of her careless actions.
    She’d successfully cursed Etienne Marshan into this . A beast. Balthazar had tricked her. He had failed to explain how he intended to curse the man who’d murdered her family.
    She scanned the six-foot-plus creature in front of her. His existence, the existence of every lycan, was her fault. There was no penance for that, no way to run from the guilt. To undo all the death, all the misery.
    She couldn’t even kill herself. Decapitation was the only way to kill a demon witch, and that would free the demon. Her death would grant Balthazar the power to manifest on earth, to walk among man. Then he could wreak even more havoc.
    She was the one responsible for creating the monster she now