Curtis restricted and reformed the outburst of his emotions to that which would look like he wasn’t working with the Blue Moon’s pack. He allowed his face to contort in slight fury and then curiosity, in just the right amounts that would propel his father to explain himself, and not doubt that he was still on the latter side. “I know. I know that you are angry. But I had my reasons. The alliance is just for the good of the pack.” Just like you had when you had caused our separation from Uncle Peter? Then, Curtis had been actually happy for the separation, happy to be away from his perfect cousin. Although he had wished for less bloodshed, he had aligned with his father’s statement then; that peace usually came after a war. And for some years he had been living with that delusion until now. Until he discovered that his father was just a power hungry ruler. Yet he piqued his right eyebrow, in a way that suggested that he was ready to listen. He was actually curious to see what his
“Noah, did father tell you that I will be joining you to go to college next week?” Diana queried her brother, taking one of the stools in the one room cabin that served as his studio. He was currently painting. Diana didn’t understand what the painting was all about-it was yet to take shape-but it had a lot of red on it, just like all the recent artworks he has been working on. Diana wondered if it was his new favorite color. “Why? What changed your mind? I thought you mentioned that school was for lesser mortals. Why are you descending to our level, oh our royal majesty?” Diana chuckled. Noah was the only in the family that she resonated with, probably because he was her twin. “Well, because my mate attends there…and there's no way to meet him unless I attend college.” Diana loved the expression on Noah’s face when the painting brush sweeping across the canvas fell from his hand to the ground, and he turned aside, giving her the full attention she had wanted since she had boun
Emma was dreaming. There was blood, a river of it running. There was pain, a sea she was floating in. Would it never end? A thousand cuts, burns, the taunting laughter telling him it would go on for all eternity. She could not believe she was so helpless, could not believe her incredible power and strength had been drained from her, leaving her reduced to such a pitiful state. She sent mental call after call out into the night; none of her kind came to help her. The agony continued, and went on relentlessly. Where were they? Her kin? Her friends? Why wouldn't they come to her and end this? Had it been a conspiracy? Had they deliberately left her to these butchers who wielded their knives and torches with such delight? It had been someone she knew who had betrayed her, but the memory was curiously fading, obscured by endless pain.Her tormentors had somehow managed to capture her, paralyze her so that she could feel yet not move, not even her vocal cords. She was totally helpless,
The women. Emma recognized them, knew they were out there, alive, no manacles, not buried beneath the earth but able to move freely around. Especially the one that resembled her. She was just out of her mind's reach, yet she could almost touch her. Why didn't the woman come to her? Emma could summon up no face, no past, only the knowledge that she was out there somewhere. She called to her. Begged. Pleaded. Raged. She had a feeling the latter was related to her. But where was she? Why wouldn't she come to her? Why did she allow her agony to continue when even her presence in her mind would ease the terrible sense of isolation? What had she done that was so terrible that she deserved this?Anger found its way into her world. Hatred, even. In the place of a girl, a monster grew, deadly, dangerous, grew and thrived on the pain, became a will impossible to crush. Fifty years, a hundred - what did it matter if she traveled to the very gates of hell for revenge? She already resided there,
Emma found herself admiring the stranger’s brain, her thinking patterns, the way she focused wholly on her work.The latter was researching a disease, seemed obsessed with finding a cure. Perhaps that was why she often found her in the dimly lit room, covered in blood, her hands buried deep within a body. She was conducting experiments. It didn't excuse the abomination of what she was, but Emma could admire her single-minded purpose. She was able to put aside her need for sleep, for sustenance, for long periods. She felt her need, but she concentrated so wholly on what she was doing, she didn't seem to recognize her body's cries for normal care.And she was everything to her. Her Savior. Her tormentor. Without her presence, without touching her mind, Emma would have been completely insane, and she knew it. The lady unwittingly shared her strange life with her, gave her something to concentrate on, a companionship of sorts. In a way it was ironic. She thought her locked underground.
“So, Fayot…Is there anything else you can tell us about Legardo which you think will be useful in trapping him or defeating him?” Sheila questioned.They had all returned from the search some minutes ago, and after exchanging information, had convened at the sitting room of the Alpha’s residence. With them were Yodah, Ava and Eva. Eva, who was still scratching her hands, though subtly, even after taking her bath three times, and applying the lavender oil her mother had mentioned had soothing and healing properties. “Well, I am not sure.”Fayot started, a furrow to his eyebrows. Fayot had always seen Legardo as a wild cunning cat, someone that you could never predict. He had tried, and he had failed for every goddamn time. “He is quite cunning, and with his two very special children under his beck and call, I would say it would be tricky to trap him.” “Do the children know of his double identity?” Melvina questioned, her hands remaining clasped with Peter’s. At their return, he
Yodah wondered how he could zoom out of the room without being conspicuous when he saw Eva slither out of Maya’s hold and walked out of the sitting room. Fayot had been released to an anxious Lent, and Peter had announced to the pack that the former wasn’t a traitor, just a misguided fellow that had been under the control of the evil Legardo. This was to prevent a jungle justice on the young man who had been implanted in the bad graces of the pack members. Anthony had left too to work on the alliances with the neighboring packs. Melvina and Sheila were in the kitchen, probably reuniting and burying the hatchet. Agrip had left to his books, and Ava had followed him to help with the research. Yet no one took cognizance of Eva who had left still scratching his hands.Yodah turned sharply to Freya when he perceived the claw of an intruder in his head. Get out of my mind, Freya. I don’t want Aiden coming for my head. He watched as Freya held back a snort. He knew by the tug at the
The sky darkened so fast. Curtis thought, as he stared out from the window in his room to the world around his pack. It had been more than three hours after the conversation with his father, and two after being with his mother. He had never seen his mother so shattered emotionally, so wrecked. It had taken him all the control, all the tightening of the restraints to remember not to kill his father before the allotted time. He sighed a minute later, noting his folded fists. His body was still thrumming with the feeling, the feeling of punching his father at least one time. Yet, he couldn't do that, not until everything had been sorted out. His mother hadn't told him much, hadn't told him something new other than what he had found out whilst being at his cousin's pack. Except for the fact that she thought her mate was misguided, and needed some direction. He had bit his tongue from asking her why her presence or words hadn't been enough to keep his father in a firm line. He had bit