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Story: May the Wolf Die

76

EZRA

The stench of battle thickened the air, constricting my lungs as I took my first swing towards the fae king, cursing the moment I’d ever met the bastard.

I had stood at his side for years, had killed for him, had bled for him, had offered up my sister to him, thinking I was acting of my own will.

Now, I knew better, and I would spend the rest of my life making up for the horrific acts I’d committed under his influence.

Or I’d die, because I refused to ever be under his thumb again. To ever let him control me again.

“You’ve aligned yourself with a vampyr? Allowed him to sully your mind? You imbecile!”

I didn’t bother answering, and I took another swing, aiming for his jaw. He moved at the last second, the barest shift of his head, and my fist flew past him. Before I could adjust, his knee slammed into my ribs, fast and brutal.

Fuck!

Pain erupted through my stomach, but I’d had worse. At least this was physical. Tangible.

I grabbed his arm before he could slip away and twisted, dragging him down into my next strike. My elbow smashed into his face, landing perfectly.

Alaroth staggered back with a wheeze, and I went for his throat. But he was ready for that one.

A hand snapped up, catching my wrist, and his fist rammedinto my gut, driving the air from my lungs. Before I could recover, his other hand gripped my temple—and the world shattered.

A guttural scream ripped from my throat as my body exploded with agony. I knew it wasn’t real, but that didn’t stop it fromfeelingreal.

His magic sunk its claws into my skull, conjuring a pain so complete it felt like my bones were splintering, like my skin was peeling from my flesh, like my organs were melting inside me..

I hit the ground hard, my body convulsing. My vision blurred and darkened as I gasped for breath, but even that didn’t bring me any relief, because my lungs were on fire.

“You fucking idiot.” His voice dripped with disdain. I could barely make out his form as he crouched beside me, tilting his head and sneering. “You think avampyrcan shield you? Your mind is mine, Ezra. It always has been.”

I grit my teeth, gathering what little strength I could.

“No,” I snarled. Flames burst from my palms, searing into his chest.

Alaroth hissed as the fire engulfed him, magic wrapping around him like a cloak. I pushed myself up onto four shaky limbs, and tried to force my body into a shift.

Before I could make the transformation, he gripped my head again, sending another onslaught of magical agony, crashing into me tenfold. My form flickering, I bellowed and my fire died. My mind began to bend under his will, twisting, darkening—

Kneel.

The command slithered through my thoughts like a chain reforging. A vice of pain tightened around me, driving me to my knees, and my vision blurred.

I knew this feeling. I knew this collar.

I choked on my own breath. No—no, I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t allow him to control me again. Canna and Marlowe were on the line. Two worlds were on the line.

But his magic was stronger than my will.

My body betrayed me, and my head bowed before the king once more.

He gripped me by my hair, tilting my head back. “You smelly mutt. You really thought you could fight against me? You and your sister are mine. You will take this world and the next, and whatever other realms we come across, because I have claimed you both. You will kill Marlowe’s pack, and…”

Another voice spoke in my mind. A slow, deep growl.

You’re not his bitch anymore, Ezra. Now get the fuck up and fight.

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