Deimos plucks the fang from the warrior’s mouth with ease the veins that protruded with the pressure he instilled on his arm now easing falling back into place.
“Bare your fangs at me again, I will extract the other one left.” Deimos warns the warrior who chokes on his blood pooling into his mouth from the torn upper gum.
“I hope he does not kill him. He is one of my best warriors.” Cronus whispers from my side hands folded across his chest whilst he watches the scene unfolding in front of him. He knew. Cronus knew the warrior’s gaze upon me but he didn’t act for it wasn’t his place to do so.
“How did I not see this male when I stayed in your pack?” I question.
“He is not from my pack. He is from another. I required a new warrior so that pack gave him to me to be trained. He is firm and solid but not strong enough I guess.” Cronus shakes his head in disapproval of the warrior who is lying in a pool of his blood gushing from his neck and mouth.
“I see.” I reply.
“If he is left to bleed like that my warrior will die. Well, I cannot fight with Deimos over this for his punishment is justified. This is why he is merciful for if I were in Deimos’s place I would have killed him in one stroke. No warnings would have been given.” Cronus says.
“He is not merciful.” I scoff looking back to the bleeding warrior. They seem to be having a conversation, Deimos and him. Deimos slaps the warrior’s cheek over and over trying to wake him up for his eyes are rolling back into his head and is slowly passing out.
“He is. Compared to how his father was and how he trained him, Deimos is very merciful.” Cronus mutters bitterly swallowing harshly as if reminiscing on memories he isn’t quite fond of.
Deimos raises from the bleeding warrior and makes a wolf call for the healer. The warrior has lost his senses and lies as if he were truly dead. The fire in Deimos hasn’t calmed as he makes a straight unwavering path of heat towards me.
He tells me with his eyes. What’s coming I won’t be able to stop it. What’s coming I won’t be able to escape. I am bound under the spell he has cast with his blazing emeralds.
Shivers run down my spine as the ground beneath trembles and shakes under his wrath. Wolves make way for him as he walks with a purpose. A purpose I will soon be aware of.
Cronus straightens next to me his head held high whilst he welcomes Deimos’s presence.
“I hope my punishment to your warrior does not cost us any misunderstandings, brother.” Deimos utters, to Cronus but his eyes. His eyes meet only mine not taking it away. I have his entire attention.
“No, brother. I understand. You might want to speak with your female. I shall tend to my warrior, I will make sure to punish him from my side.” Cronus utters jogging to where the healer checks up on the limp male giving us space which I do not need.
Before I could make a move, his hand flies to grasp my hip bringing him to his chest in one quick pull. I stand still surprised by the sparks that evoke from being touched after a short but feels like… a long time. Once I regain my senses the blurry haze dying my claws extract swiftly puncturing his chest trying to create distance.
“Get your hands off me, Deimos.” I snarl. Taking deep breaths to control the fury that wishes to surge. Yet he stands still unlike before unmoving. He was quick to listen to my angered words but not today. Not today.
His fangs elongate it pokes into his mark on the side of my neck. He has lost all reason and merely wishes to sink his fangs into me to claim me as his for all to see once again.
“Don’t you dare.” I spit grinding my teeth together. “I will make you bleed.” A warning.
“You already do so, my female. Every single day. From when I open my eyes in early mornings when we speak during middays to my dreams you haunt in the cold nights.”
His hands around me tighten for he is savouring the feeling of me in his arms. Of the unique warmth, I provide him with. Something he has desperately missed. Something he has yearned. He paints me in the blood of the warrior he punished. I sigh in disbelief looking at my newly washed white shirt coated with blood. It will be hard to rinse it out.
“I am stronger.” He mutters beneath his breath bringing my attention back to him.
“What?” I question frowning as to where this is coming from for I do not understand.
“I will be stronger than any male who dares to look at you and imagine disgusting things. Despite your hate towards me for my sins, you are my moon blessed and I am yours. I will kill any and every male that feasts on your flesh.” He answers the question I had asked myself when I met the warrior’s gaze.
“You have no right. No right to be jealous or come at me this way.” I grit out.
“You may hate me, Lumina. I shall accept it for the burden I carry is mine alone. But when you question and lose your faith in my like that I’d rather die.” He whispers.
He shifts closer snuggling his face into my neck. I struggle to tear through his iron grip on me but the more I move the more he tightens his hold leaving me no way to escape.
“Just for a moment. Just for a moment let me be at home. Let me calm myself and my wolf for I do not wish to do something I might regret. Jealousy burns and I need to kill it. I implore you to allow me this. Let me have this second of peace.” He begs his words dying within the nape of my neck. His words meant only for me to hear.
So I stand still awkwardly my hands at my sides, spine leaning backwards as he presses himself to me like a pup who wants nothing but love and attention.
Pressing his nose deeper into my neck he inhales deeply. “You smell like him. Our male. You carry his scent.” He smiles a painful smile fighting his wolf for control. It has been long since Deimos set his wolf free always keeping him caged so that he wouldn’t get to me. So that he wouldn’t bombard my space and leave me uncomfortable.
With a slow deep breath, eyes closed he quickly strips himself away from my flesh. Looking away from me he says, “Forgive me, my female. For holding you when my touch disgusts you.” He says barely a whisper as if it pains him even to utter these words.
With a curt nod towards me of respect, he walks ahead without giving the warrior in need of healing another glance disappearing into the trees. My eyes linger on the path he took and into the darkness he surrendered to. My soul mourns him but my mind claps its hands. A war I fight every day within myself. A war he fights on his own as well. We are both fighting.