His mate

Chapter 8

The weapons on the wall seemed to call for me. A range of different sized knives were set up all around. Shit! There's even a sword along with a few axes and other unnamed weapons. Stalking up to the nearest set of knives', I grab a few tucking some safely away in my bra.

Huffing out a breath, I once again turn towards the steel door. Knives in hand. What the actual hell is taking them so long? Hearing their heavy footsteps stomping down the hall, I let out a relieved sigh.

Finally.

It wasn't as if I was expecting much when they had finally got here. But, I had hoped they could of at least put up a fight.

As soon as they had made it into my line of sight, I let the knives go. Not a sound was heard as they swiftly travelled through the air, imbedding themselves into the throat's of the two steroid pumped men, if you could even call them that. They were pathetic filth.

Not a second later they dropped to the ground like flies. The first one was dead. The blade had penetrated through his thick neck muscles and had triumphantly come out the other end. It delighted me.

The second guy didn't appear to be as lucky, as when the blades were released he hadn't even been half-way through the door. Although still alive and breathing, he was undoubtedly in much pain. The knife had taken refuge in his throat as well, although not as deep as his comrades. I could hear his skin sizzling from the silver that was imbedded into the blade of the knife.

It was fascinating.

My body no longer outwardly responded to the touch of silver. It hadn't for a while now. Although seeing a similar sight only moments ago, it still succeeded in causing me to stop and stare. I couldn't help the wave of jealousy and hate that invaded my body as I watched him struggle.

He couldn't apprehend the beauty and pleasure that one would get from pain.

No one did.

Each breath he took sound like an old man's cough. His limbs trembled with each movement he took to try and escape. Tears dripped down his face like no tomorrow. He knew he wasn't going to make it out. He knew he was going to die.

With each step I took towards him, the more his body shook and released excessive amount of fear.

Only moments ago this being of filth hadn't had a care in the world. He would of undoubtedly sat by and let his Beta violate my body without doing a dam thing. How revolting he was.

Crouching down beside him, I smile as I take in his pitiful form. The action completely freezing up his body, eye's expanding wide as he looked upon me with complete and absolute terror.

"Don't worry. I'll be merciful." I always am.

Grabbing a hold of the handle, I force it deeper into his throat. The tip of the blade sinking further into the skin and coming out the other side. Ripping it out side ways. I examine the blade, bringing it up to eye level, I marvel at the beautiful red substance that coated it making its way down my arm and tainting the already dirtied floor.

Humoring myself, I carve a capital 'A' on the dead filth's cheek. Small giggles past my lips as I admire my handiwork. I'm such a idiot . Shaking my head, I rise from my position doing a few stretches while listening out for the sounding sounds.

Growling could be heard down the hall. The guards surrounding the exit of the dungeon, waiting for my arrival in their wolf forms. They had probably thought they had an advantage over me, given their excessive numbers and the more space they had to more around in. But it didn't matter. They would die. No matter the circumstances. Because filth is filth and needs to be disposed of.