Mated With My Father

Mated With My Father: 2

The walls around me are cold and empty. Even after eighteen years, I can't bring myself to become used to this cage. I was forcefully put here on the day I was born. It seems my crime was my sole existence itself.

I could hear the footsteps of one of the guards. They belong to the one named- number 27. He is the one that brings me food every day. After being locked for eighteen years, I could distinguish every footstep from each guard individually. I can hear him closing the distance to my cell. He placed the tray on the ground and kicked it in my direction. While doing so, some of the food fell from the plate on the cold stinky ground. He laughed.

"What are you laughing at, slave?" I pierced him with my cold stern.

Even though he was one of the larics himself, to me he was merely a slave. I don't know my exact origins and who exactly my parents are, but each wolf is gifted with a natural instinct of knowing their own rank and the rank of the other wolves. This laric is unmistakably from a lower rank than myself. He knew it as well.

He stopped laughing and looked in my direction as if he knew exactly where I was standing. Which was creepy since he was blind. All of the larics that were assigned to come down here and tend to my needs were blind. Precisely there are five of them who are chosen to keep me alive and all five of them have had their eyes ripped out of them.

The Original Werewolf didn't want any male to have a look at me. Weirdly, it made sense. With their scarily good smell and hearing, they didn't need to look at me. They always knew where I was and what I was doing. However, I knew they didn't blame their master for being ripped out of their sight. They blamed me.

"I am not the one who is being held prisoner." He actually thought that saying something I was painfully aware of, for the last eighteen years, could actually hurt me. I ignored him.

"Kneel and eat the food you spilled. The one on the ground." I ordered with a natural arrogance I possessed.

I knew I couldn't force him to obey me, but I wanted to show him the audacity I had. Even after all those years, they didn't break me. He was suprised by the disrespect I showed but kept his face straight.

"The greater insult than being locked in here is being forced to communicate with someone who's only purpose of being born- is to serve me."

I sighed and waved my hand in a dismissing way. Even without a sight, I knew that the message had come across. Larics were sensitive even to the smallest vibrations and waving with my hand must have felt like a hurricane to him.

I could feel his presence for a few more moments. He was probably debating with himself whether he should say something or ignore me. Eventually, he walked away. He must have felt great discomfort being treated this way. Larics had higher testosterone levels than all alphas combined, but still the amount of restraint they showed was on another level. One could say it was almost human-like. But one can also never forget that, after the Original Werewolf, larics held the greatest power.

This made me wonder- who the heck I was? How did I grant myself permission to speak to them in this disrespectful manner? I was not physically as strong, but that didn't matter to me. Maybe years of being locked in here did its job. I just didn't care anymore. Hatred is all I could feel.

And the Original Werewolf. I hated him the most. He was the reason for my suffering and I have never even seen him. If I was ever to meet him, I would rip his throat out. A smile formed on my lips. Probably I wouldn't even manage to approach him, but the idea itself made my heart race with joy.

I could hear other footsteps approaching the cell. This one belonged to number 30. He was yet another blind Laric whose company was at least bearable.