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“Come here, pup.” My fangs drop, and I pin him with a cold glare. The guard, while in his twenties, is still a kid compared to my ninety. A werewolf's life expectancy is long; most die of old age or from not surpassing the death of a mate.
Those bonds are our biggest weakness. That, and silver.
Slowly, he stands on shaky legs and walks over. His posture is one of defeat while the heady scent of panic becomes prominent.
He stops a few feet from me. “Yes, Alpha?”
“Is he lying, Luke?”
“No.” It leaves him on a whimper, and those gathered snarl. His body shakes at that while the wolf within submits.
Taking in a deep breath, I let it out slowly, hands clenching and unclenching. “Did you help them kill your queen? My uncle?”
“Yes.” A nervous twitch. There’s also the heavy cloak of shame.
“Why?”
“I had no choice, Alpha. He threatened to kill my—” Blood gurgles out of the wound on his neck, the single strike of my hand breaking his neck while my talons sliced him open from one side to the other. He never had the chance to see the move, much less anticipate how quick I truly am.
“There is always a choice, and it’s to never betray your pack.” A thud greets my ears a second later as Luke’s body meets the ground, and I turn my attention to Timoth. My closed fist bangs on my chest, my appreciation clear. “Thank you, Beta.” Take my aunt inside and request the healer come at once. She’ll need something to help her rest.
“Always, King Xadiel.” Anything you need, I’m here for your family. The beta quickly lifts my catatonic aunt into his arms and carries her toward the main house. All that’s left of her are the silent tears of heartbreak.
Once they’re out of sight, I turn to the warlock, who’s been watching me. Tracking my every move. He’s been smart enough to try and conjure anything again, and my smile is in condescending appreciation. I also toss at his face a piece of Luke’s throat caught on a nail.
“Let’s try that again, shall we? Name?”
“Let me go. You’ll never see me again.” Now he’s meek. No more backbone.
“No.” This time, I circle him while the frail man trembles. His robe is long, yet it doesn’t hide the puddle of piss currently growing beneath him. Then, there’s the acrid stench of his magic mixed with distress which grows, and I inhale deeply, taking it deep into my lungs.
My wolf likes it. Relishes in his panic.
This man has no idea what real pain looks like, but he will.
I’m going to drain him slowly. A cut at a time. A chunk of flesh with each strike.
“Please, Alpha. I’ve been forced to—fuck!” he yells out, using his still useful hand to cover the hole left behind by my nails on his chest. Blood seeps from between his fingers at a rapid pace. “I-It’s Tonio Salicio.”
“And who sent you here, Tonio Salicio?”
“I’ll never betray my true mistress. She saved me once.”
“Suit yourself.” In the blink of an eye, I have his throat in my hold—fingers wrapped tightly—and begin to apply pressure. His feet are off the ground, the fingers of his good hand trying to pry mine off, but that stops the second I punch through his ribs.
A scream rips through the air while his skin and bones give way, tearing under the strength of my fist. I come out through the back, stretching my digits out before exiting with a chunk of flesh in my palm.
“Stop!”
“Who is your mistress?”
“I can’t...figlio di puttana!” So he’s Italian, but from which coven? The Wiccan royals are allies, their queen a friend of my mum, and she’ll be furious. They will understand why I’ve killed him.
“Interesting choice of words.” The next strike is to his shoulder and then collarbone, ripping a chunk out each time and then tossing them onto Luke’s dead body. Another on his right thigh, and then left. “Ready to talk?”
The man is a mess, his tears mixing with snot and the sanguine rush of his wounds. From head to toe, I mutilate him a piece at a time while pulling a louder cry from his chapped lips. I want everyone to hear his pain. Relish in it the way my animal and I have.
“No more.”
