Free Beginnings (Nightwalkers) by H.N. Sieverding Page B

heavy and dragging them even a few inches was difficult. Closing her eyes, she held tightly to his wrists and started pulling him away from the pile. But after barely moving the body a foot forward, she stopped. She was still very weak, and became winded easily.
    This seemed like an impossible task for a woman of her strength. And though one would think this disgusting chore would make her vomit, surprisingly, it didn’t. Fear masked the reaction. Her only thought was of survival. Of doing as her captors said so she could live. She didn’t want to end up like those in this pile.
    After taking a breather, she looked down at the dead man. He was covered in blood, the flesh of his neck torn away. His skin was pale, his eyes open and glassed over. Closing her eyes, she pushed her lips together and tried to gather herself. When she had done so, she once again resumed her task.
    Swallowing hard, she grabbed him by the wrists, the wet fabric of his coat chilling to the touch. She groaned as she tugged with all her might. She drug him forward three more feet, then took another breather. She repeated the process until she finally reached the fire. A slave boy posted there took over her work silently. As if on auto mode, he took the body and cast it into the fire.
    Ashleigh’s eyes widened as she watched the flesh of the corpse melt. Glued on his eyes, the distant stare of the dead chilled her more than this cruel fall air. She couldn’t turn her eyes as she watched him burn, the horrid smell of burnt flesh making her cough.
    Ashleigh rubbed her arms, hoping to muster up some warmth. Her bare skin was red and clammy, her whole body feeling like it was being slowly incased in ice. She felt the prick of each inch as she lost feeling of it. Of herself. Of anything. Her mind seemed to be numbing as well.
    “Do not stand so idle,” the slave boy whispered to her. “If you are not useful, you will be killed.”
    She nodded, then returned to her task. Gazing at the pile of bodies, they became nothing more than objects. She couldn’t think of them as people. As someone’s parents. Siblings. If she grew emotional, she too might be killed.
    She had to be useful. She’d do anything to survive now. Anything.
    She reached for another body, but halted when a man approached her. The man spoke in a soft tone, but his face was blurred, “Ashleigh. What are you doing here?”
    He was dressed better than the others, and she felt a strong connection to him like she knew him, but couldn’t place from where. He had dark hair, the only thing she could make out except for his body shape.
    She went to hug him, but he pushed her back.
    “No, you mustn’t.” He swallowed hard then looked around sharply.
    “Why not?”
    “I’m not like you anymore. We cannot interact like that here. It could get both of us in trouble. Only the alphas are allowed to have their choice of the women.”
    “All right.” She sent him a fragile smile. “But I knew you would be alive. I knew it.”
    “Alive?” He bared his teeth, small fangs protruding from his lips. She jumped back, a great fear burning her chest. “I’m not alive . They’ve made me one of them.”
    “What should I do?” She looked around cautiously then turned back to him.
    “I’ll find a way to get you out of here, I promise.” He glanced at a few men that passed them, a great caution in his gaze. “And by siding with them, they’ve given me inhuman powers. Powers that can help me save you. Come with me. I have a plan.”
    He motioned for her to follow. He took her to the manor. It was warmer in here, but to her skin, the sudden change in temperature made it burn as if she had walked into the furnace. A fitting way to enter hell.
    Her eyes snapped to a man talking to a few other men. He was dressed in fine suiting, his hair the color of the sun—soft, almost white and combed perfectly into a ponytail that fell down his back. He was handsome, this devil.
    His alluring green eyes met