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He didn’t answer. She had silenced his voice.
“Pain is all you understand. You make me do terrible things to teach you what’s right.” His mother flicked her wrist while she mumbled an incantation.
His crotch burned as if a million bees stung him. He opened his mouth to scream. No sound. But tears rolled down his cheeks.
His father looked on from the doorway, his shoulders slumped while he turned away.
Echidna screamed, her rage shattering the air. “A female drains power from a male. She’ll suck the energy out through your dick. Learn to handle your own needs. You cannot deny your destiny for a slut.”
The stinging bees morphed to crabs with pincers. Still his cries went unheard. Nobody came to his rescue. His father had probably shut himself in his study. His neighbors turned a blind eye on the mage family. Teachers never questioned his bruises. He was alone.
Dolph passed out from the pain. When he awoke, his mother cradled his head, stroking his hair, sobbing. She was so gentle after an episode.
“I am the only being who loves you, Dolph, the only one who cares about your future.”
The young warlock never walked home with the budding witch again. He never held her hand. He had been stupid, but his mother saved him.
She always did.
Over the years, he took the infrequent female. Whenever the pressure grew unbearable. He chose to fornicate with those who lacked spark, who had no appeal. They were mere vessels to receive his urges, to sate his appetite.
Lort waited for an answer from his lord, who finally shook off his memories. “Perhaps I shall help these descendants come into their powers. Fetch some of the prettier, younger ones to this garrison. Blondes are my preference.”
“I shall personally choose them.”
“And hurry. I have a sudden craving for witch pussy. Bring the first captive to my chamber tonight.”
Echidna ranted in his head. “No. We are so close. How can you give in to your unclean nature? You will be weakened.”
But Dolph was grown and powerful. He no longer listened to his mother’s voice when he didn’t want to. Today was such a day.
“Yes, sir.” Lort tapped his earbud, listening. “The two trackers you requested are waiting. Can you see them now?”
“Certainly.”
The general stepped out for a moment.
Cerberus returned to the chair behind his desk, readjusting his pants while he looked forward to an entertainment he had not enjoyed for some time.
Lort guided a berserker and a demon into the office, again assuming his patient military stance with spine rigid and arms behind his back.
The warlock leader pointed toward chairs. “I have a task. You have been recommended as the best in the business.”
The visitors glanced at each other, their chests puffed with pride at the compliment.
“How may I serve you?” The tall, thick berserker, an intimidating mass of muscle, smoothed a hand over his war braids while he adjusted the coyote shifter’s pelt draped across his shoulders, a fallen enemy he had no doubt skinned. The sclera of his eyes showed signs of amanita muscaria, a drug his breed drank combined with blood. It whipped them into a battle frenzy, making them frightening to behold.
“Ralmon, is it?”
“Yes, lord.”
He held the berserker’s gaze. The male tried to assess Cerberus’s strength. How weary these Aeternal dick-measuring contests were. The warlock sent out a small ripple of power, avoiding the male’s shield but rattling the walls. Ralmon quivered.
Point proved.
“And you are Egral?” He focused his attention on the other visitor.
The carnal demon was well known among Arisen Dawn soldiers. His taste for raping his defeated adversaries after battle was legendary, cruel but effective at instilling fear. Males and females fell prey to his pheromones, begging for his penis, their humiliation followed by his blade drawn across their necks.
