nothing he could do to me that hasn’t been done before. I’m not weak. I’m a fucking survivor, a goddamn animal and hunter. He will never hurt me because I won’t let him. “Do not push me, amore. I’m warning you to drop it. Now get your weapons and let’s go.” With that, he turns away and grabs some blades without even looking at me, leaving me staring at him with a feeling of rejection flowing through me.
Why do I care?
He’s nothing to me, just a quick fuck and hunting partner until we go our separate ways. I drew that line, I pushed him away, didn’t want him… So why does him doing the same make me want to stab him?
Because somehow, I have a weird claim over this face god, and even my animals are in agreement. They see him as ours, and we don’t like the fact that he just may not be. That he may be using me as much as I used him.
Did the player get played?
Did the predator become the prey and didn’t even know?
Turning away, I swallow and go through the motions of checking the weapons and sheathing them as my mind stumbles through my turbulent, confusing thoughts. My heart hammers with an emotion I can’t describe. He was my target, then my duty…then my fuck buddy, so why do I even care?
Why does him turning away from me make my stomach roll?
One thing is for sure—when this is over, I need to get as far away from this god as I can because he has some strange control over me, and when he realises that…
He will have the power to destroy me.
We decide to start at the source—the graveyard.
After grabbing all the weapons we can, we get in the car, and without a word, I drive us to the closest one. There is tension between us, but we are both intent on stopping what’s happening no matter how pissed we are at each other. The dirt is upturned, the coffins are broken open, and the headstones are smashed and covered in fresh blood. Human and witch, if I’m not mistaken. There are also pentagrams drawn across the ground with skulls and hearts surrounding them. Whoever this necromancer is, they are strong and smart.
The graveyard is clear though. We check two more, and they are all the same. It seems they have emptied all the graves and turned the dead from the city. But why? What will the chaos achieve for them, apart from being noticed? Unless it’s a distraction? But from what? The thoughts run through my head as we make our way through the city, stopping as many as we can, but we are both aware we need to find the cause of this and stop them. Otherwise, for each undead we kill, two will take their place. And if this city is overwhelmed…what’s next?
The whole world?
My creature is starting to escape also. All the death, bloodshed, and screams are calling to it. Not to mention the man at my side is covered in blood, and watching him effortlessly kill these creatures is also enticing it. I’m riding a thin line of it breaking free and causing more mayhem than even the zombies. It makes me angrier, needier, until I’m purposely going out of my way to rip the zombies apart. To feel the blood spraying across me and the rush of death. It could be it was called by my confusion and hurt…but the pain isn’t as bad as that night it came before. I’m not hurting physically, yet here it is.
But I can’t afford to be weak, not when a powerful magic user is running rampant through the city. I need all the strength I’ve developed over the years, all of the skills I’ve finely honed to stop this person. Hell, maybe even the council will forgive me if I stop them and give me another chance… Do I really want one though? Ever since that strike through my name when I became their enemy, I’ve felt free.
Unowned.
I thought that when I accepted the job with them to escape the pack that I was finally free. I had my own place, yet it was just a different type of control. Carefully being the good little hunter, playing the role just as I played the role of omega for my pack. All my life, I have been tied down and in cages constructed by others, and now I feel…whole. Like I’m