seen my anger before, the tales and stories told even today. So many names and so many works of fiction are based on me...and these men think starving me will make me break? How wrong they are. I will prove that to them before I rip their bodies apart and spike their heads to decorate my house.
I hear the door open once again, just as it does every day like clockwork. I no longer visibly react, not even to lift my weary head. Something is tossed inside, a someone, I should say. And then the door slams shut once again, trapping them in here with me.
I can’t help it, I sniff, inhaling the aromatic fragrance of their essence. The very thing I need. Next, I hear their heart slamming so hard in their chest from fear I’m surprised they haven’t died from it.
Human bodies are so frail, after all.
They breathe slowly to remain quiet and they don’t move, thinking it will save them. But I can hear every tiny inhale, each exhale, and every slight movement of their body. The blood thundering through their veins, calling to me.
Madness encroaches the recesses of my mind, a darkness I have given into more than once twisting around me until I finally lift my head and spot the tiny human. The living blood bag is kneeling against the door with her legs pulled to her fluttering chest. Her lips quiver and her eyes overflow as she stares at me.
My nose twitches and my mouth parts to reveal my huge fangs, which is what finally breaks her.
She screams, howls, and cries, battering her fists against the metal door to escape me and I laugh, throwing my head back and letting it flow from me.
They won’t break me today, or even tomorrow.
It was a good try though.
I let them hear my mocking guffaw, even as my arms are pulled up and chained, my legs spread and shackled to the walls.
Blood.
It coats the air, calling to me, telling me its story. How it could make me feel better, make my strength return, quench this never-ending thirst which was imposed on me many millenniums ago.
No one can.
“How long have you been here?” I ask, changing the subject when Dume just stares at me. If a minotaur could look shocked, I think that would be his expression right now.
With nothing else to do but sit and wait for that fucking Veyo to come back so I can kill them and escape, I make myself comfortable on the floor, sitting cross-legged and watching as the bull man walks around me, almost pacing.
“A few days. Witches trapped me while I was travelling,” he almost roars, the floor actually shaking with the force and his hooves making a clanking noise as he moves.
“Travelling to where?” I question pleasantly. Again, I should probably be more afraid trapped in here with a clearly angry minotaur, but instead I’m fighting off my attraction, the lust that’s drawing me to him. I’ve only felt like this with my mates, so why now? Is it magic like he said? It’s not like I know much about it, so it could be, or is it something else?
He turns to face me and copies my position, sitting down surprisingly gracefully for such a big man. “To find someone,” is all he says. “Why are you here?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” I muse. “I was hunting someone. I guess they didn’t like us prying, it led me to these people and what they’re doing here.”
“Which is?” he presses.
The door opens and we both shoot to our feet. The three guards wearing solid black stream inside, so I part my legs and brace myself. Their faces and the crackle of electricity from their weapons unleashes something in me.
Something more than rage...hate.
When the door shuts behind them and they grin at us, I turn my head slowly to look at Dume, flashing him an evil grin. “They are mine.”
Even my voice doesn’t sound like me—it’s darker, filled with anger and need. Need for their blood and pain. I let it take hold and when one of them steps towards me, his baton aimed in my direction, I move with a scream that would rival the minotaur himself. I’m almost a blur, moving so fast that one second I’m in front of him and the next I’m behind him. I hear their panicked yells, but it all fades away until nothing but darkness surrounds me.
Leaping onto his back, I yank his head