Bloodrush Read Online Free PDF

physical reaction. Instead, the disgust he felt was psychological. He felt contempt for the producers of the vile excretions.
    For the fucking humans .
    She ran a slender hand up and down the length of one of her porcelain-white thighs, licking her lips as she watched him. David felt his cock grow as he watched her caress herself. Her voice was huskier when she spoke: “You feel it now, don’t you? The difference.”
    David couldn’t help it. He smiled. “Yes.”
    He sprang to his feet and exploded toward her. Exploded, that was the only way to describe the physical sensation. He was upright and mobile in the blink of an eye, all before he was even remotely cognizant of what was happening. The newfound power buzzing through every tendon and nerve-ending in his body propelled him through the air like a rocket. Despite the speed of it, he was conscious of the movements of his body. The pumping of his arms. The pistoning of his legs and the flexing of his powerful thighs. He was running, a simple physical act in essence, but to the human eye he would be just a high-speed blur slashing across space.
    Then he was on her.
    His astoundingly strong hands wrapped tightly around her neck and began to squeeze. He snarled, eager to feel the surrender of her tender flesh to the crushing force of his hands. He stopped squeezing when he felt something strange inside his head. It was a crawling, insidious sense of something alien, some ethereal tendril, wending its way through the nooks and crannies of his brain.
    He let go of her throat and staggered backward a few steps.
    Maddeningly, she’d never stopped smiling. “You have a lot to learn about the new you, David. Many lessons. Here’s the first.”
    He felt something flex inside his head.
    Then he was on his back and convulsing violently. He remained conscious and perfectly aware as the tremors continued for an interminable time, his limbs twisting themselves into awkward and frightening configurations as he strove in vain to regain even the slightest measure of physical control. It was useless. She had him firmly in her grip. He was her slave. Her plaything. She could lock his body in a spastic state until he died, if she so desired. He feared his unthinking attack had pissed her off enough to make her do just that. Tears were leaking from his eyes by the time the convulsions abruptly ceased. The instant the shaking stopped he sucked in a massive breath and exhaled a cry of the deepest anguish. Then his body was shaking again, but this time it was from the force of his sobs. He turned onto his side and curled into a fetal ball, squeezing his eyes shut as tears dripped from his face to the damp earth beneath him, ground already stained with the blood of this creature’s countless other victims.
    His cries mingled with the sobs and moans of the chained men and women hanging from the walls and the cavern’s ceiling. For a time he gave himself over to this expression of misery and grief, lost himself in it, and for a fleeting handful of moments it provided a kind of comfort. He wasn’t David Rucker, newly minted dead man. He wasn’t a man at all. There was no sense of self. He was just a part of a larger organism. A new thing forged from the flesh of all imprisoned in this awful place. It was good not to be David Rucker. Good to be just an unthinking, unfeeling thing .
    Until the spell was abruptly broken.
    “Enough of this pitiful mewling.”
    David drew in another big breath and forced his eyes open.
    She was standing over him now, her hands on her hips, her magnificent breasts jutting outward, primitively regal and majestic, a pose that again reminded him of old pulp novel covers. Something by Boris Vallejo or Frank Franzetta, maybe, from some long ago sword and sorcery epic. Her body entranced him all over again from this perspective and for a long moment he forgot all about his terror of her. Her legs were perfect. Long and shapely. The sweet swell of her hips and the flat