Greykin Valley

| 23 | Asmodi

⥐ ⋞ ☽ ⋟ ⥐

| Jackson |

It was so much different than before. All Jackson felt when the amulet locked around his neck was rage and bloodlust so strong that it was like he'd been starved for months. He could feel his fangs yearning to sink into the throat of whoever was closest, and he was so angry. He'd been shot, locked away, and used as bait; he was tired of being so weak and useless. The inimă urged him to show everyone who and what he really was, and he didn't feel any hesitation.

Jackson felt the creature inside him wake from an eighteen-year-long sleep. It hurt, but he didn't care. The flesh on his back tore, his shoulder blades cracked, and as Jackson grimaced and gripped the material covering the cage floor, something burst from his back, sending a rain of blood splattering onto the inside of the cage and the snow surrounding it.

But it wasn't over yet. Jackson grunted as he looked over his shoulder, and when he saw a pair of wing-like bones attached to his back, he frowned in confusion. The inimă glowed brightly, and while Jackson's bloodlust and desire to kill increased, he watched the bones adorn black scaley skin and crimson membranes. The wings protruding from his back looked almost like those of a dragon, and they were so large that their carpal claws almost reached the cage roof.

His head started aching. The pain got worse with every second, and his bloodlust did nothing to help. He gritted his teeth and gripped the sides of his head with his hands as he yelled in agony; he heard his skull cracking, and he felt something sharp cut through his skin above both his ears. Blood trickled down his face and onto the floor, and when Jackson pulled his bloody hands from his head and leaned onto them, he watched his nails morph and sharpen to look just like the black claws he saw at the tips of Lord Caedis' fingers, but Jackson's didn't change colour.

Jackson's ears were ringing, his aching body trembled, and his heart was racing. The inimă kept pulsing, and the feeling of its warm, enticing ethos quickly relieved the pain. The power gushed through his body like fire, and as Jackson's bloodlust returned, he lifted his head and set his eyes on the closest living thing.

"Jack?" Wilson asked. There was a desperate look on his face like he'd been trying to get Jackson's attention without success.

Although Jackson knew the huge tiger was his friend, it didn't make him feel any less eager to break free, get over to him, and drain every ounce of blood from his body.

But then he shifted his sights to the tent. He could hear Lewis grumbling to himself as he got up, and when he came out of his tent and saw Jackson, the man frowned in confusion.

"What the fuck is this?!" he yelled, cocking his shotgun.

Jackson wasn't going to let Lewis or Riker's hunters hurt Damon's pack anymore. He focused on his desire to kill them, and as the inimă used his anger to increase his power, Jackson used his new wings to propel himself forward. The silver bars shattered like ice, and Jackson reached Lewis before he could even think to pull the trigger.

He didn't hesitate. Jackson savagely sunk his fangs into Lewis' neck, and the moment the man's blood touched his tongue, a feeling of utter delight surged through Jackson's body. He bit harder, forcing the grunting, gurgling man down onto his back. Jackson nailed the man's hands to the ground with his wing's carpal spikes, keeping him from attempting to fight him off, and then Jackson drank...and drank...and drank. He gulped Lewis' intoxicatingly sweet blood down as fast as he could, each mouthful pulling him deeper into the overwhelming power the inimă gave him.

But once the man's body was drained, Jackson didn't feel satisfied. The monster inside him wasn't satisfied. He needed more. It needed more. He could feel it clawing under his skin—it wanted out, and Jackson wanted to give in.