The Mate Inside Me

Prologue

“Argh…”

A low groan escaped through his cyanosed lips, soon followed by a bloody coughing fit that soaked the ground beneath his knees, already painted with the dry stains of blood, in a mess of fresh crimson droplets.

He had no idea how long he stayed in the same position, trying hard to hear something, anything but he couldn’t. His forlorn figure was unable to hear any heartbeat in that deserted place except for his own, which too was slowing down with every passing moment. He was kneeling on an earth marred with the lifeless bodies of multiple innocent and corrupted souls.

As far as his sight could see, no sign of life was left on that battlefield. He couldn’t even see a bird chirping in that ominous place. The smell of death lingering in the atmosphere was slowly suffocating his airways rendering him unable to breathe. He felt frozen in his place as if a serpentine was ever so slightly tightening its clutches on him, watching, waiting, to sink its sharp teeth deep inside his flesh the moment he decided to make a move.

‘Is this how it ends?’

Lifting his golden eyes to the skies, the brutally wounded man let out a loud howl which was answered back by nothing but mere swooshing of air.

‘Dead. They’re all dead.’

He had lost all his comrades in that battle. No one from the his army had managed to survive. He was the lone survivor of this hell, doomed to spend an eternity with the flashbacks of the horrors he had witnessed on this ground. He was the cursed King of those dead Werewolves.

He was away, assessing the area, distracted by a smaller portion of the Rogues when their leader attacked the werewolf army at night. They Rogues had discovered his secret lair due to a mole and used this to their advantage, managing to overpower them in their slumber. Traces of sleep hadn’t even left his men when their eyes were forced to shut down permanently.

Half of them were dead by the time he managed to reach the middle of the battlefield. They were killed in their sleep.

As he halted to take a look at the decapitated bodies of his men, their intestines hanging low from their torn abdomens, his head went blank. They weren’t just murdered, their bodies were mutilated to the point that he couldn’t tell them apart.

He was known to be the most cool-headed person in the room but that sight had done something to him. A deep rage that he had never experienced before had suddenly erupted inside of him. That was the first time he had unleashed all his powers, facing a swarming army of rogues all on his own.

He had let his wolf run berserk with no intervention from his human side. He sliced every throat that came in his path. No wound on his body hurt. He could see nothing but red. Nothing was able to stop him. He was out to get blood.

After a while as his beast calmed down, he realized that he had successfully managed to annihilate the army of the rogues.

They were all dead but their leader was nowhere to be seen.

‘Should’ve killed that bastard too.’

The adrenaline was slowly leaving his system, his senses had started clearing. He could feel pain now, a lot of pain.

“It’s time.”

He could feel a pricking sensation crawling all over his body.

A moment later, his legs buckled beneath him, displacing several mots of dust as his huge frame fell like a log to the ground. He felt paralyzed, unable to move himself. His mind seemed to have lost all contact with the rest of his body.

He thought his life would flash before his eyes, one last time, before he’d have to close them for a long time but it never happened. His empty golden eyes could picture nothing instead of the gray skies hanging above his head. His mind was blank, almost as if it didn’t have a memory worth playing in his last moments.