Free Defying Instinct (Demon Instinct Series) by Jaye A. Jones

the hardwood beneath my body making
me scream, I knew there was no more resisting.  The fight was over.
    Evil
awakened, and seethed.
    The smoke-and-fire
had me now.

CHAPTER 8
     
    Wrath
crackled under my not-my skin.
    My
heart pounded in my not-my chest, threatening to rip me in half with each beat.
    Images
cascaded over my mind.  I’d had these thoughts before, these homicidal,
vicious, chaotic desires of destruction before, but never like this.  Where
before the bloodlust was a trickle, now it was a waterfall.  Where before the
need to tear something or someone apart with my bare hands was the size of a
pebble, now it was a boulder pushing against my conscience, trying to break it.
    Fire. 
Blood.  The ultimate, devastating power of snuffing out life. 
    Anger
bubbled.  Molten fury flowed. 
    Darkness. 
Ash. 
    I
was empty, made up of ice and soot.  Fire and steam.  Teeth and nails
thrashed.  My instinct roared, devoured, consumed in its path without
discrimination. 
    I
lashed out without seeing what my fists struck.  Every movement, every blow was
amazing, and agonizing.  But I couldn’t stop. 
    A
vaguely sane part inside me registered that Hadrian had gone, along with his
impenetrable energy field he’d created.  Someone was talking to me, yelling at
me, begging me, but that was as far as the sane part inside could grasp.
    The
insane part was so much stronger.
    Arms
with strength I’d never had before struck wood, metal, and flesh.  Ecstasy
flirted with torment.  Pleasure snuck through the din of pain.
    Big,
searing bands wrapped around me, but I didn’t stop.  Nothing could contain me. 
I was a Razer demon.  A Destroyer.  It was my nature to take things apart piece
by piece, limb from limb, seize control of foreign land and rule like a
leveling storm. 
    Friends? 
I had no friend but the strength of the tempest within me. 
    Family? 
I had no family but blood and rubble, fire and smoke, bones and chaos.
    The
big, searing bands around me began to blaze, the sensation too much to
process.  Something else was taking up the lure of destruction’s place in my
dark heart.  The awareness of contact, of touch, of feeling more intensely,
more perfectly than I’d ever felt slammed into me.
    The
sensation smoldered, ached, charmed, and shattered me.  I’d never felt so much
of anything before.  My body exploded wherever something was touching my skin
with both anguish and rapture.
    I
wanted to kill because of it. 
    And
because of it, I wanted to die.
    The
world moved around me without my consent.  I couldn’t see why, how the
destruction I’d caused became too far away for my eyes filled with fire to
see.  Each movement of the searing bands around me may as well have snapped me
in two.  Every impact of whatever was moving me away from my destruction felt
like an earthquake, threatening to open the earth at my feet and swallow me
whole.  But my feet weren’t on the floor.
    Clarity
hinted around the edge of the inferno.  Someone carried me.  The searing bands
were arms.  The earthquakes were footsteps up a flight of stairs.
    The
hot arms around my waist finally let go, and the floor hit so hard I was sure
every bone had broken on impact.
    The
stuff covering my flesh tormented, so I ripped at it until my skin was free of
the terrible sensation it caused. 
    Noises
that came from my throat hurt, the vibrations misery.
    Breath
that involuntarily entered and exited my lungs burned like wildfire. 
    That
edge of clarity appeared again.  I struggled to hold onto who I was, what I was
called.  My name was Savannah Cole.  Victor’s daughter.  Benn’s friend.  They
called me Savvy.
    I’d
never been savvy.  It was my name, not a description. 
    Savvy. 
But not. 
    A
voice screamed that name, my name, begged and pleaded, then screamed my name
some more.
    Clarity. 
Cyrus held Benn at the door. 
    It
was a relief to recognize faces. 
    I
could feel their struggle as if my body were