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Thor

R age.

Pain .

Rage.

Her blood. Thick in the air. Potent. Powerful. Mine .

“Catch her scent, you stupid mutt,” a familiar voice said. “Hunt her power.”

There was something clutched in his hand. Something white.

He held it to my nose, forcing it between the bars of the cage.

I could have torn him apart if I wanted to. Torn his arm off, feasted on his flesh like he wanted me to do to her .

“You hunt it, and I’ll let you shift. If you even remember how.” He laughed, and it triggered the rage.

But then there was pain.

Blood.

Her scent.

Sweet. Terrible.

Pain .

A growl tore through my throat, my beast battled with his basic instincts. Tear her apart, save her. Protect what my beast wanted, but do as he commanded.

That familiar tingle in the back of my head reminded me of the agony.

Reminded me of what I really wanted.

“That’s it,” another voice cooed. “You want to serve me. You want her dead. And you want that power of hers. You want to bleed it dry. Don’t you, beast? You want to find it for me. ”

Yes, I thought. I wanted her dead.

I wanted her blood on my paws.

No.

More agony.

He grunted. “Open the cage.”

The wards around me shuddered, their buzzing energy shutting off. And then, for the first time since I entered, the door to my prison clicked open.

“You sure he’ll do it?” the familiar one asked.

“He will.” That one laughed. “And he’ll tear her mates apart while he’s at it.”

Her sweet scent was stamped in my mind. As I lifted my nose to the air, I searched for it on the wind.

“And if he doesn’t succeed in killing them, then he’ll lead us right to her. Dead or alive.”

When I found her scent, agony tore through me.

And then rage.

And then nothing but the need for her blood soaking my fur as I tore her apart.