The Touch of Demise │18+

28: Down Her Throat

GRACE

She sat in between two royal guards on the hard cellar floor. One of them had put down his cloak for her to sit on. Others from Pack Xerxes offered their seats, but she insisted they kept them. In front of her were two other guards and other laymen from the pack. 

"Are you the mate of Demise?"

Grace's eyes landed on the woman who hesitantly spoke to her. It was clear the royal guards made her nervous to speak. Grace nodded. "Yes."

"Will he kill our Primus?"

She cocked her head to the side. "Why would he?"

"Pardon my intrusion, but most of us know that your blood is the only thing he can subsist on. And with Demise being as dominant as he is..."

"No," she answered. "Honestly, I think Demise likes Xerxes as a friend."

"I hope so. They used to be very close." 

"They were?" Grace knew that all the Primuses used to be friends with one another, but that changed for one reason or another. But Demise has said they used to be close, and Grace was beginning to think that Demise could use some more friends. In her head, he pushed everyone away to protect them. He thought his presence was death. 

Maybe it was. 

"Yes, my queen." 

Grace bristled. She wasn't sure how she felt about the term. 

The girl continued: "but Xerxes, we like him. He's a good Primus."

"I remember he was very just when I lived here."

"He cares for each and every one of us like family. When we cannot afford our taxes, he allows us to pay what we can. He provides subsidies for those whose crops fail for the season. He visited my son on his birthday... he cares."

"Do all of you share this sentiment," Grace asked the room. The room quieted. Others came and sat in front of her. They nodded and told her other stories about Xerxes. 

One time Xerxes stayed up all night to watch over a house with a new mother who was struggling with her pup. They loved him. They cherished him. 

DEMISE 

"What is going on?"

"Primus Xerxes is on the front lines. There are about one hundred wolves. He's getting through them easily, but he's working with about fifteen other enforcers. He won't diverge any resources from protecting the border or the town."

"Smart. Xerxes is powerful enough to sustain the fight." Demise turned to the man. "Go to the cellar. Protect the prima."

"Yes, primus."

Demise made his way to the front lines. He didn't transition. He didn't need to. In a moment of calm before the next wave of assailants, he stood next to Xerxes who looked at him like he wanted to kill anything and everything around. 

"They killed her, Demise."

He nodded, his face falling into understanding. "I know."

"I should have checked the border myself."

"It's not your fault. You can't change what happened."

"Then what can I do?"

A beat. Demise watched as wolves surged forward yards away. "Make sure it doesn't happen again." And then they were on him. Canines were barred, blood coated him, and growls coveted his ears like a prayer of war. A promise of death.