10

CHAPTER 10: Paint Me In Red

I understood death. I didn’t mean to, I didn’t want to, but I did.

The capturing of souls, whether tortured or not, death collected and gobbled up souls like a child does candy. I watched Martin walk up to a large black mat, it’s equipped with the materials needed, “After the tournament, of course, I would not want my mate with child during such dangerous events.” Martin adds, grabbing a pair of twin daggers.

I stare at him, he looked serious, stern. Like he had the power to control when my body should be changed. Right now, I was staring at a vile stance, a man who deserved a woman’s wrath. He truly believed he had all the right in the world to physically hurt me, when all I did was refuse a bond in which I knew wasn’t real. One I knew had to be a mistake made by the gods, otherwise I would have loved him and dealt with whatever horror thrown at me, deluding myself into believing it was love, like all the other Lunas who feel their alpha mates had a right to hurt them.

He twists his daggers, I choose the same weapon, sliding them from the sides of the map and becoming accustomed to their nature, their rhythm, “The first one to draw blood, or concede is the winner.” Robert announces, his role in this clan seemed more open in some way, Martin was allowing it, watching me while his enforcers, his people find entertainment, like this is some lover’s quarrel.

Martin had years on me, he may have had the strength and those supporting him, surrounding him like a hive of bees following a Queen. I was on enemy territory, or in the very least, foreign territory, “No wolf can intervene, neither can any of you shift.” Robert adds, pointing to us.

The sound of a bell chimes and I teleport behind him without a thought, knocking him off his feet and slamming the sharp end of my dagger down, he blocks me. I grit my teeth as I stare down into his silver eyes, the room gasps because they had never seen me teleport, now that I could use the ability more frequently, I revelled in using it. The council found it odd, almost unheard of that I could do what I did once as a child. Teleporting in random places, uncontrolled. But if Martin could use other people’s abilities, if that was something he had hidden himself as an alpha, then I knew I would struggle.

He sends a punch straight for my gut throwing me over him and ripping my daggers away. I roll forward, on my feet I whip my eyes around and duck immediately when he goes for a lethal headshot, the slicing of his dagger a sound of immense speed. I slam my fist into his thigh, relishing in his grunt, before I’m spun around with his chest flush against my back. He sinks his canines into my neck.

I writhe against him, roaring, trying hard to stop it. As quickly as it started, it ends. The pain. Everything. The bite had felt different, like I was fading in and out of darkness and...ecstasy. It was a strange, palpable twist in my veins. Involuntary.

That and blood.

I lost.

The first to bleed, and he did it by siblings canines into my flesh.

It happened so quickly.

He stands there, not like a warrior, but in defeat. I didn’t know when he left my side, his lips caked in red blood, mine.

It’s deadly silent in the room. The mated females hitch their breaths, most of them seeing it as an intimate gesture. Because it was a lethal one, the way he did it, I wondered if that finally showed.

“Alpha Martin is the winner.” Reina announces softly.

My scalp is sore yet again. But my neck felt ripped apart.

“All regulations of the fight are dismissed.” Martin’s smooth voice echoes.

Robert looks to him, others are confused for a moment, “Then there is no winner.” Robert adds, not looking surprised, but he stills as Martin’s eyes on me, the way he stares at me. It wasn’t that he couldn’t believe what he’d just done, just that his eyes opened wider, even for just a moment. Like it was instinctual, he moved closer, squatting next to my seated form, I grab a heated wet towel, holding it against my neck. I wanted him to feel the pain, but what made no sense is why his nose didn’t break with mine, why did he not feel pain.

I turn to him slowly, his neck. He contains no injury to the neck, as if a bite is considered loving, not harming.

He studies me, “All magic has loopholes, if you harm me, you will feel it more intensely than I do. But that was not to harm you. Until you fully accept the bond, this will always be how it is. One-sided.” He explains in a murmur, so stoic, like he believes this is fair. His people believe this is fair.

I needed to find a way to remove this bond. And soon.

He stares at me, “There is no way to remove it. When you and your wolf come to terms with the fact that you are mine, you will understand what the meaning of happiness consists of. If you embrace us and accept me, we will be happier, you just have to stop fighting, love.” He whispers, reaching for my cheek. I inwardly flinch, his thumb grazes my nose, it is fully healed, but his skin against mine leaves me cold. His natural body temperature was warm, yet I fucking felt nothing. I needed to know how he was powerful.

I step away from him, his fingers tremble, he reaches for me again and sighs in content, “Why can’t you feel what you do to me?” He whispers, I pull away from him, hand still holding the towel, I needed to heal. I lost, I couldn’t say that it didn’t sting. They parted for me, but not because of any alpha title, I was a tiny dog in a pack of wolves to them. So to speak.

Let’s show them that even a dog can run a wolfs pack.

I didn’t come down for dinner, finding the room I was allocated to, I strut in, slam the door closed behind me and pace dents into the floorboards. They creaked with my hush, unorganised movements. I didn’t hear the door open until I saw him sitting, or rather lying down in the middle of the bed. Wearing only trousers, grey ones that looked soft to the touch, his abs out in display like a chocolate chip cookie. I wasn’t so hungry, I fold my arms.

“You didn’t even notice when I came in.” He murmurs, his eyes mirthful, as opposed to being intimidating. The skin of my neck aches, while the wound healed, it was still there under my skin. I inwardly glared thunderstorms at him, but instead just stares for a longer moment, how would he like it if I ripped his jugular out with my teeth, huh? Don’t think he’d be so fucking amused while gurgling on his own blood. I felt the bite on my arm contain a sting, like applying sanitiser on a small cut against a hand, it stings.

Only in this case, that sting doesn’t go away in a few mere counted seconds. It remains. Until I step closer, it gets lighter, more bearable than before. I growl, holding my arm, “What is this?” I spit.

He stares at me, “I honestly have no true idea what you’re going on about. Shall I have dinner brought up? Candlelight’s a start, right?” His pearly white teeth come out, not nothing to hide the lengthened canines as he silently dares me to argue his proposal.

“Why don’t you shove those candles up your arse?” I dare him.

He stares at me with a sigh, “Surely this fighting must be mentally, emotionally and physically exhausting for you? The bond I inserted into us both last evening should have strengthened a very necessary connection that applies a chemical reaction between two parties. Mixing of blood and blood oaths are both serious matters, combined with magic...I do not understand why you are still able to fight something in which should be natural, should be exciting. You’re transforming this bond into your own prison, I don’t understand why, Celestine?” I stare at him incredulously.

“What did this bond do? I can barely remember how it happened? Did you do something to me, did you compel me to do something somehow?” I needed answers about the oath he’d sewn between us.

He flicks his eyes to the bed, “Maybe we should try hugging? Embracing each other on a metaphysical level, as well as emotional?” Is he a walking fucking dictionary? No, I don’t want to try hugging, I want answers.

“How is this possible? The council should have defended me—”

Those eyes that were directed to the bed, in want and longing, become razor sharp and coaxed in a black darkness that targets me, it’s a face of a killer, “Because they are always so reliable and loyal? You are expendable, why do you think I was able to take my mate? Even after your pathetic rejection? You could be given duties here. You could be allowed outside, you would be allowed to see the village, to do some shopping, to smile. For duck sake, I have not once seen a real smile on your face, mate and I am sick of withholding what I want. I want a fucking mate who will love me, why is that so hard for you to comprehend?!”

I blink at him, “Probably because you’ve been nothing but abusive toward me.”

He folds his arms, “Are you saying you have not been the same?” He questions, giving me a thorough look.

I stare at him, “Verbally, yes. You were the first offender to be physical.”

“Semantics, you fought me physically too.” He points at me in a stern manner now.

I flail my hands, “Why won’t you take ‘no’ for an answer?”

“Because you don’t give up on those you love!”

His nostrils flare, breathing rapidly, like a panting dog in a corner, shivering in the darkness, just waiting to be loved. At least that was the look he was presenting now. I’ll give him a minute to bring back the murderous expression and show me who he really is.

I stare at him, “Hit me.” I dare him.

He struggles, lips trembling as he stares at all of me, “I think I’m more in the mood to bend you over my knee.” He says to me, like that is something to be incentivised. I give him a dirty look, about to turn away when he grabs me by the hips and rips me flush against what I never wanted to know.

He leans down so his face is just a bare breath from mine, “Would I want this, would I feel like this, if I didn’t think you and I were directed by the moon and stars to be together? Stop turning your head. Stop looking away, it will only encourage me more to bend you to my will until you look at me like every female fucking Alpha should look at her other half!”

I get close, his growing erection just has me feeling the raw hot anger I didn’t want there. Being angry meant I felt something, it meant that canvas I wanted left blank was painted in red hot anger right now and that was defeating the entire purpose of this hellhole. I’m meant to hate him, but I challenge him. For some fucked up reason, it entices him, it encourages him and it makes him malicious, but it makes him hot.

It’s all well and said, but there isn’t a sweet bone in his miserable body to make me ride him like rabbits remaking a species.

I stare him down, feel my own blood boil, “How many goddamn times must I make it clear that your dick makes me drier than sand and your face even fucking more so?” I ask him.

He blinks.

I blink.

“You won’t be saying that when I’m between your thighs.” His nostrils flare like a roaring engine, a bull heating up like a fucking inferno.

He moves in closer.

I shove him off and look down, my eyes widen, “Ew, just what the fuck, Martin?” Did he seriously just—

He blinks, “That’s not urine.” He says quickly, blushing.

He’s fucking blushing.

I rip my pants off, who knows whether his sperm could be strong enough to go through my bloody pants, I gag, “Oh god, I think I’m going to puke.”

“It’s a fucking compliment.”

I scoff incredulously, “Guys can finish within seconds. I cannot fucking believe you did that while we’re arguing, I mean, no control in there.” I point at him, wondering when I could cut his ding-a-ling off so it doesn’t ring-a-ding like that. Or at all. I would be doing the entire world a favour if he couldn’t reproduce. Holy lord, think of the danger I’d be removing from this realm and all others.

He blushes, “What the fucking hell are you thinking all that for?”

I blink, “Stay out of my head, arsehole.”

He flails his hands, strutting for the bathroom, “Fucking hard to when you practically shout it all down at me as if you were holding a damn microphone. Ugh!” He growls, ripping the door closed. I hold in a gag, this is not how this argument should have gone, “Stop it! Just fucking stop it!” He yells out, sounding pained.

I still.

He’s embarrassed.

I stare at the door, he’s breathing heavy while the shower goes.

He’s swift and quick, stepping out after ten minutes with only a towel on. He grips his arm awkwardly, “Can you move, I need to get some clothes?” He asks of me, gesturing with his eyes for me to move. His blush is still prominently creeping up his neck.

I stare at him, he stares at me, “Do I really disgust you that much?” He asks me, wanting a truthful answer, “I can’t control my emotions, or even sometimes my...my...fuck it, my hormones around you. This happens, alright. I don’t understand why you’re so fucking disgusted by me. Do you know what it’s like to look in the mirror and fucking ask yourself why your mate can’t look at you—why she hates the sight of you—why she doesn’t even want to fucking touch you and would rather fight than be with you?! I mean, fuck, look at me, Celestine. I know I’m not perfect, I know I have a fuck load to learn, but your disgusted by me. You’redisgusted.” He’s hurt.

I stare at him, he points at me, “Why? Huh? Is my scars ugly? Am I too small? Too big? Is my skin tone all wrong? Is every part of me revolting to you that when I lose control, you do that? You almost throw up because I’m chemically attracted to you and when I lose it and it just happens—” in his pants, “—you’re revolted? What made you hate me the instant you saw me?”

I can only stare.

He looks...he looks like a boy who’s afraid. Who’s scared.

Son of a bitch is making me still.

It’s not about his fucking appearance, it’s about the fact he forced a bond, he threw me to the polar bears, he caged me, he hit me...he physically and mentally abuses me and now I’m only pausing to ask, “Who hurt you?”

He’s caught off guard by the question.

“Who hurt you?” I ask again, slowly.

He stares, lips pursed, before he struts past me, “I’m fucking looking at her.”