Dark Destiny (Principatus) Read Online Free PDF Page B

that—and the fact Patrick’s skin was tanned by the sun and Ven’s tan had faded somewhat—they looked very alike. Both tall and lean, both broad shouldered from years of swimming and surfing, both square jawed with a nose slightly too large for their face. Obviously, two brothers. One a lifeguard, one a vampire. One alive, one undead. Just your typical Aussie family unit.
    Patrick shook his head again. “I’m going to bed. Unlike you, I have no sex life to speak of and, as I said before, I’ve had a shit day and I need some serious shut-eye.” He put his empty beer bottle in the sink and crossed the kitchen floor, pausing for a moment in the entryway to give Ven a serious look. “If you’re going to hang around for a bit, can you do me a favor?”
    “I’m not doing your bloody ironing!”
    Patrick grinned. “But you do it so well.”
    He turned and walked from the room, snatching the empty beer bottle Ven threw at his head without slowing his stride.
    “Freak,” Ven chuckled behind him.
    “Good night, brother,” he replied over his shoulder with a grin, heading for his bedroom. “Have fun.”
     
     
    He runs. Along the deserted beach, the wet, compacted sand crunching beneath the soles of his jogging shoes with every pounding footfall.
    His heart thumps in his chest, his neck and ears. A steady beat surging blood through his veins. Each breath he pulls floods his being with renewed life, filling his lungs through his nose, the fresh tang of the ocean biting into his sinuses.
    The high sun shines down on him, bleaching the empty stretch of beach of all color, a glaring ball of cold energy.
    He runs, heart thumping, sweat trickling down his temples, into his eyes. He feels alive. He feels totally at peace. The beach stretches before him, a never-ending strip of isolated beach.
    “Patrick.”
    The soft voice whispers behind him. He spins about, frowning at the empty beach.
    Jogging backwards, his frown deepens. There is no one there.
    “Patrick.”
    The wind calls his name. He turns back to his original direction, blood, no sweat streaming down his face.
    She stands before him. A woman in a…hooded cloak…and baseball cap, face shrouded by shadows.
    The wind lashes his face and he raises his hand, protecting his eyes from the wild, swirling sand. He blinks and continues along the deserted beach, feeling fine.
    “Patrick.”
    A woman stands on the beach. The woman with the baseball cap. She looks at him and smiles. He trips over a…body… No, a piece of driftwood. The sand bites into his face, tiny grains of raw glass embedding in his sweaty flesh. Staggering to his feet, he looks for the woman on the beach and sees only sand.
    No water. No land. Only sand.
    And bodies?
    Dead, blotted bodies. Oozing pus and bile and ichor. Flesh decaying, blistering in the merciless, icy sun. Dead, bloated bodies piled atop each other, blank eyes staring at him.
    Run.
    The word slithers into his ear, a serpent of sound and texture. He spins, looking for the speaker. And sees the bodies. Stirring.
    Run.
    The snake writhes in his head. His gut clenches, his skin prickles. He stares, frozen, as the rotting, putrefying bodies move as one, a rising, rolling wave of decay. Growing higher. Higher. Blocking out the sun. Curling over him. Dead, decaying corpses all staring at him as they come crashing down, drowning him in—
    “RUN, PATRICK.”
    A scream shatters the silent, still air and Patrick stumbles, frowning as he looks around the empty, deserted beach. Sweat trickles into his eye and he swipes at it with the back of his hand. Nothing. Just the beach and the rolling waves and the quiet. He begins to jog again, chuckling at his own foolishness. He must be hearing things.
    The sand crunches under his feet, a relaxing sound that echoes his heartbeat. He smiles, enjoying the day. The sun warms his flesh, turns the sweat beading on its surface to hot bubbles of salty water. He runs, feeling fine.
    He runs. Faster.