Novel & Cerita The Dead #2 Cover

His look is completed by black hair and an upside-down cross hung in his left ear. He guffawed as he swung his bat and walked on the shards of glass. He opens the zipper of his leather jacket, ignoring the yelps of the staff of the hotel. He pulls out a thick black book, with skull carvings on its cover. This is the Death Book, the list of humans who are destined to die. But he is not here to act as a grim reaper; he is here to act like a murderer. He flips the pages and hides them back in his jacket. A purple orb flew above him, leaving a trail of purple glitters. The orb sliced itself into two, making a Pacman with a purple color.

Death was a tall 6'5", slim man with mostly pale skin. His arms, like his legs, were pitch black. His hair was long, about shoulder length, and almost as dark as his limbs. Death was wearing a dark purple robe that went down to the top of his shins with a hood on the back. The sleeves were long enough to cover his lanky arms. His office was a simple room, about eight-hundred square feet, with grey walls. There was a desk and a plaque behind the desk that reads "Memento Mori" Death didn't care for the plaque and often saw it as kind of a joke. He was given it as a gift though, so he kept it hung up at all times, hoping his new recruits wouldn't notice.

He was a living dead, waiting for the universe to grant him his longed-for death and reunite him with Collette. He heard footsteps nearby and was thankful he was wearing a cap that covered half of his face. He slowly picked up his gun that rested in his pants while he continued to admire the photograph of the happiest days of his life in front of the tombstone of the beautiful young woman who took with him all the love and joy he didn't know he had.

Maybe even…dead. ***

It tries to send the memory through her knees, her hands, her throat. Maya lets it arrive. Then she steps left. The dead follow sound and motion. They do not think. They do not plan. They do not fake low and attack high. They are patient appetite in a ruined suit. “Behind?” she whispers. Clear within twenty feet, LUS says. “Lovely.” The dead man reaches. Maya lets him commit, shifts inside the arc, hooks her foot behind his ankle, and drives the crowbar hard into the side of his knee.

They stepped inside. Raven’s sharp blue eyes scanned the spines—titles in languages older than Arcadia Prime, bindings of shadow-leather and bone. Victoria moved with purpose, fingers trailing over volumes until she stopped before a thick tome bound in matte black hide that drank the light rather than reflected it. Silver script crawled across the cover like living veins: *Intricate Military Command of the Dead* *Advanced Studies in the Art of Necromantic Warfare* Raven reached up—standing on tiptoe—and pulled it free. The weight surprised her; this was no slim intermediate text. This was dense, heavy with diagrams of battlefield sigils, troop formations of the risen, rites for coordinating

“This way.” She doesn’t hold my face for long. I follow her deeper inside, past occupied beds, past low murmurs and controlled urgency. There’s an effort here—to keep everything contained. It is working to some extent. She stops and gives way for me to see the bodies. Two bodies just lay there lifeless. Covered. Too still. I don’t move immediately. She reaches forward and pulls the cloth back. The first one— The skin is pale. Too pale. Not the kind of pale that coke with death, it’s something else.

Ethan frowned heavily at the sight, but he still performed a routine examination of me and my pup's vitals out of occupational habit. The cloying stench of blood hit Toby with such force that he instinctively recoiled, his hand flying to his nose. The oppressive heat had already begun its grim work, accelerating the decay of our corpses. He stood outside the basement, refusing to take another step inside. "What the heck is Joyce doing? She's stunk up the whole basement!" he complained. Barney lowered his head, not daring to make a sound, and simply glanced at Ethan from time to time. Ethan took off his gloves with a solemn expression on his face. "It's confirmed that Luna Joyce and her pup a

He simply nodded, and that was enough. “Dr. Vance,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “It’s good to meet you in person.” I nodded in return. “Likewise, General Cole.” There was no need for pleasantries. I knew why I was here, and so did he. Without another word, he gestured for me to sit. “I’m sure you’ve seen the reports. You’ve read about the fever. The people who’ve died. The ones who’ve turned. It’s a nightmare. And we’re losing. Every day, we lose more ground to the infected.”

There will be scenes of BDSM dynamic between our Male Lead and Female Lead, so if you aren't into kink or it makes you uncomfortable, please do not read any further. I hope that you enjoy Alpha of the Dead. --Sydney