Moon Bound

13

Back to him
~
Lycus
~

Lycus was draped in crimson liquid, blood attached to him as though it's a second skin but to him, it is.

Slumped against a tree trunk, his body drained of strength as he monitored the dead bodies laid out before him. Seven. Seven wolves were killed by his hand and he didn't think twice about it.

He didn't think at all. His head wasn't in the clouds but completely submerged in darkness.

No thoughts flashed through his head, no emotion to drown him in guilt and regret, just a blank sight of white-hot nothingness when he was in lycan form.

Lycus said he'd protect her and in the rings of his soul, vowed it to himself. Until his brother went against him and took him out without consideration of what would occur because of it.

When Lycus came to, an unsettling wrings of dread shot through him causing his bones to begin breaking and reconstructing.

Accalia was at the front line of his unravelling mind before he completely turned and all he could manage to spell out was the painful death his mate would meet.

She's dead by now, she has to be dead. She's probably dead, no bite mark to bring her back, no Alpha blood to resurrect her, just a painful and human death. Played out as a hunter should die, by the claw of a lycan. My mate is dead.

Those raging thoughts irked Lycus to the brim and he fled from his house, tearing at his clothing to rid himself of the smothering sensation cocooning him.

He tried to drown out every essence of noise to hear her. Hear if she's still alive, listen in to her voice or heartbeat, whenever she's around him her pulse escalates, but her face always remains the same. Blank and detached.

Lycus's breathing became ragged and helpless. Helpless. That's not a weakness Lycus is akin to, he never feels helpless or hopeless. None of this would happen if it was done his way.

A shadowy figure loomed over Lycus and he peered up at the refine and poised women standing before him. She hadn't opened her mouth yet, but her beauty would bring anyone to silence. Black skin, not a mark in sight, long jet black hair and eyes that brimmed with dark brown.

"Calla," Lycus rasped out and crossed his ankle of the other, "I thought you would've gone to your pack by now. Bloodshed isn't your thing."

Calla glanced around the grotesque sight and her nostrils flared, lips thinning. She wasn't impressed by any of this. "Everyone else has left. Melina was saved by her brother ... I don't think they'll be that peaceful now, Lycus."

Lycus chuckled, leaning his head against the bark and said, "Zenith and Melina are lucky little fuckers for even slipping away. Zenith has always disliked me, even more now that his pack member, Tate, didn't quite make it."

His eyes slipped to the distance where Tate's body rotted, his arm ripped away from his body as well as his heart.

Lycus saw him first and thought him the best one to take his anger out on.

"I see," Calla swallowed and laced her hands together, appearing wistful with those austere eyes. "Lycus, as an Alpha myself, I no longer want bloodshed, I've washed my hands of it. I wasn't here when this ... matter went down, but I hear you found a mate. A hunter."