Page 35 of They Call Me Blue

“Male elgrew are solely responsible for child rearing. Females have neither the temperament nor disposition for such a task; their talents lie elsewhere. Allowing an elgrew child to interact with their elvish incubator is strictly prohibited. If the myrie remains a household pet, they must be separated and supervised at all times. Failure to do so will result in the seizure of the child and the pet.”

—City of Kariss, The Great Charter

“ W hat the fuck did you do to him?” Azerin’s voice flits across my consciousness, though my eyes are too heavy to open them. Groggy and disoriented, I try to sit up, but my muscles scream in protest.

“What you asked,” Colette spits. “He had enough rukin in him to sedate a verncat. I thought you said he was eating.”

“He is eating,” my father insists.

“Try telling that to the two pets he killed. I know what I saw, Azerin. He was feral. ”

“I’ll take care of it.”

Colette huffs and the door slams shut.

Rough hands peel back my eyelids. Tears blur my vision, the brightness blinding. When I blink, a pair of silver-violet eyes come into focus, but it isn’t anger I see reflected there. It’s . . . relief. Azerin sucks in a breath, his arms wrapping around my shoulders as he crushes me to his chest.

Is my father . . . hugging me?

“I thought I lost you,” Azerin says, smoothing back my hair. He cups my cheeks in his palms, his gaze more intense than I've ever seen it. “I did lose you. But the spirits gave you back.”

He hugs me again, and I swallow, my throat burning and voice scratchy. “Dad, I didn't mean to kill those girls . . .”

I barely remember doing it. The memories are there but scrambled, like I was possessed. Feral.

“I know.” He lets go of me, and I fall back onto the bed, too sore to hold myself upright—from malnutrition or Colette's potion, I don’t know.

My vision blackens at the edges. My stomach rumbles so loudly there's no doubt he heard it. Azerin pivots toward a golden door to my right, and I reach for him, my heavy arm falling limply on the mattress.

“Where are you going?” I rasp.

He doesn't answer, but he gives me this resigned, exasperated look.

“I’ll take care of it.”

The door clicks shut, and unconsciousness pulls me back under.

I wake to muffled sobs.

Head throbbing, I peel my eyes open and come face-to-face with a female elf lying in bed beside me.

Cold-iron chains wrap around her ankles and wrists, pinning her arms behind her back.

A thick ball gag made of glass pries her painted, violet lips apart.

Hair in her face, tears in her eyes, she squirms against the bindings and, ultimately, gets nowhere.

The pit in my stomach begs for relief. The stench of her fear is a symphony on my tongue.

It takes a moment to remember where I am. And then the revulsion kicks in.

Bolting upright, I yank the golden silk sheets from my body and climb out of bed, my pulse racing. Where are my clothes?

Scanning the floor turns up nothing. I’m naked and hard in Colette’s training house. My ridged purple cock is so fucking stiff, it could tear through glass. Damn potion. Fucking bitch. Cock bobbing, I race to the golden door on the other side of the bedroom and yank the handle.

Locked.

Golden sunlight streams through open shutters, bathing the room in warm light. The elf continues crying and my heart races, veins pumping with adrenaline, instincts kicking in despite my moral code. There are no clothes on her body. Nothing to get in the way of my teeth.

An arterial vein pulses at the surface of her throat, begging me to rip it out.

It would be so fucking easy—and that’s the Marr-damn problem.

She doesn’t deserve this; it isn’t a fair fight.

I stare at my trembling hands and will them to be still, begging the pain in my stomach to ebb long enough for me to think.

It doesn’t.

The scent of moss and dirt floods my nostrils, my sentience slipping. It’s only a matter of time before my instincts give in, even if I don’t. Swallowing back saliva, I pound on the gilded door confining me.

I have to escape. I can’t be in here with her.

My knuckles crack against the metal panels. Purple blood seeps between the stitchwork in my skin. “Let me out! You can’t keep me here.”

The door creaks open mid-pound, Azerin’s face behind it.

My fist falls. I dive toward the opening, but Azerin blocks my path with his arm to prevent an escape.

“Eat, Lyrick.”

Jaw clenching, I glare at him. “Let me leave the city and I will. I’ll join up with the other Hunters.”

“You’ll go feral long before you reach the forest.” He spins me around and forces me to stare at the creature.

Silver blood streams from her eardrums, down her neck.

Bile rises to my throat even as my stomach clenches.

“How many elves do you think you’ll kill once you can’t even remember your own name? ”

“Please.” My voice cracks. “Don’t make me do this.”

“You’re hungry, and she’s food,” Azerin says. “Hot. Fresh. You can even kill her yourself.”

My pit organs open on reflex, taking in her heat, homing in on how fucking warm that arterial vein is. Twisting, I try to shove Azerin away, but his grip tightens.

“I will not lose you again, nor will I have rumors circulating about you in the Politic. You are my son, and you will eat. Only one of you comes out of this room alive. Is that understood?”

I twist harder.

In a blur of motion, something sharp nicks my throat. My father’s blade gleams in the sunlight. “‘Yes, Father.’ Say it.”

I swallow—the sharpness digs in, slicing deeper. “Yes, Father.”

“Good. Now get on with it.” Withdrawing the knife, he pushes me toward the bed. The door closes, but when I peer behind me, he’s still there, leaning against the blue marble wall. Arms crossed, Azerin stares at me expectantly. Waiting.

There’s to be no privacy. No choice.

Fighting back against everything that I am, I approach the creature.

She squirms harder, the springs in the bed creaking, the chains on her wrists jingling hard enough to echo in the room.

Whimpering moans crawl past the ball gag as I climb onto the bed and lean over her body.

Tears prick my eyes, knowing just how fucked this is, but the gnawing hunger doesn’t care and neither does Azerin.

Glancing behind me, I see the steel in his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

My teeth drip venom onto the elf’s skin. I’m not strong enough to stop myself from lowering my head. Or strong enough to keep from sinking my teeth into her supple flesh. Unlike the elves in the forest, she doesn't scream or fight back; her tremors are strong enough to shake me.

Defenseless.

Caged.

I eat anyway.

Hot blood gushes from her neck in a steady stream, staining the sheets, my soul. Tendon and muscle glide over my tongue. I rip through it like it's made of paper, destroying years of self-restraint just as easily.

Then, the frenzy hits.

Ripping up fistfuls of flesh, I scarf her down—unable to stop, unable to slow. The hunger in my stomach ebbs, each bite bringing relief and a fresh pain all its own.

I am weak.

I'm no better than the rest of my species.

The metallic sweetness is bliss on my tongue. Euphoric agony. Only a pile of entrails and bones are left by the time I can pull myself away. My stomach convulses, the meat festering inside me as I look at what I've done. My eyes burn at the sight of her. Broken. Those chains still on her bones.

Chunks rise up my throat, my chest heaving over the carcass.

“Do not vomit,” Azerin says, “or I will make you eat that as well.”

I force myself to swallow, sobs racking my body.

I’m a fucking monster. Talin would be ashamed.

Azerin pulls me from the bed and holds my face to his chest, shushing me like I’m a godsdamned infant. And I let him. As the tears settle, he drags me through a blue door—not into a hallway, but into a bathroom.

Hot steam fills the chamber, and blood percolates from my body onto the gilded floor. I’m fucking covered in it. My hands shake as I grip onto the edges of a marble sink, staring at my silver-stained face in the mirror. Like something from a nightmare.

I’m faintly aware of levers and knobs being turned in a claw tub. Of Azerin dragging me away from the mirror and helping me into the water. The liquid shimmers silver as I step into it. There’s not enough water or soap in the world to wash away what I’ve done.

“Do you know why I chose you as Karesai?” he asks, retrieving a bar of soap from the cabinets.

“Nepotism,” I sniffle, wiping the snot from my nose.

Azerin shakes his head. His hand dips below the water, grabbing up my arm, washing me like he used to when I was a toddler.

“I chose you for the same reasons I chose Yaklan.” His words are surprisingly gentle.

“You both show restraint and empathy where others do not, and while I may not agree with your approach or your beliefs, it does good to have those voices of dissent on my council. You are the most skilled tracker in Kariss. Your people respect you. As their Karesai, you will be able to influence their opinions, as well as policy.”

He finishes washing me, dunking my head below the surface long enough to rinse the blood and tissue away.

Then he guides me out of the tub, gore still dripping off my body.

I stare at my reflection in the polished stone, wishing I could break it.

The Hunters wouldn’t respect me if they could see me now, being bathed by my father while crying over an elf. I’m a fucking disgrace to my species.

Bending, Azerin passes me a plush golden towel.

He maneuvers his head until I’m staring at his face instead of mine.

“This isn’t a punishment, Lyrick. But I see now you may not be up to the job.

If this is something you truly can’t handle, then I will let you leave, but I think you would make an excellent Karesai. ”

“There’s something wrong with me,” I croak.

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” Azerin tucks the towel around my body. “I want you to stay in the city and rule by my side. But to do that, you must put aside your fanaticism and adapt to our way of life. Can you do that, Lyrick?”

I don’t know.

I don’t want to know.

I want to return to the forest where everything was easy. Yet, I can’t bring myself to say that either. Part of me yearns to be the son Azerin wants me to be. The other part is fucking terrified at the prospect.

If I stay, what do I become?