For the Hate of God

Lycan’s whatnots

Marcellus POV

I have been watching her writhing and screaming in torment for days now. It doesn’t seem to please me as I thought it would. No, not at all. It actually has an adverse effect. The feelings invoked by her torture are similar, if not worse, than those linked to the darkest moments of my childhood, when my mother was tortured, raped and killed in front of my eyes. And I thought that no pain could compare to that moment. The more I see Aralyn wilting away from sanity, the more I feel that my sanity is slipping away, too. I can see all of her thoughts, emotions and memories. I am the ruler of her mind now. Given her blood lineage, I did not expect it would be so easy to get in her head. I thought there would be more resistance. But no. Could it be because I caught her off guard when she was overly concentrated on combat with me, and she hadn’t thought there were other ways I could attack her? Was she not aware that I have mind control abilities? Well, whatever the reason, I can see all of her memories, pick and choose the memories that hold the most value and feelings to her and use these against her. And I did just that for weeks now. She made perfect ground for my little torture trip. Well, one could argue that this is not precisely a little trip for her, but hey…

The setting is just perfect. No one would ever guess she is in Nerzelis, right before Malleteagan’s nose. It is a different subrealm from the underworld, so usual spies from Oribus and Wengarthria that I always need to be wary of are not the big threat. Apart from Conrad’s snoops, they are all over the place anyway. Malleteagan is away for weeks now, as my intel says. No one knows where he is, but he has some heavily guarded secrets under wraps wherever he is, as my guys inform me.

Even if someone could find Aralyn here by chance, no one, not even me, can break the cloaking spell but Aralyn. That is how powerful she became. Or was she from the very beginning? She is more powerful than Noosha because of Malleteagan's lineage and more powerful than Malleteagan because of Arcanus’ and Noosha’s lineage. And that’s why I am puzzled how come her mind had been so easy to control. Whatever the reason, she is not in the right state of mind to break the cloaking spell, and I am taking this as an opportunity. Because although I cannot break the cloaking spell, I can control her mind and teleport myself in and out of her armour thanks to my telekinetic abilities and her pendant still with me. And that one is unusual. It has an amethyst stone in the centre of such a gentle lavender-lilac tone that matches the colour of her eyes. The stone is styled in a moon shape, and when you look at it closely, you can see that it is actually a medallion. But I am not able to open it. And damn, I have tried, with brute force, with magic, but to no avail. There is an inscription on the back; it says: To the moon and back. Forever. S. L.

My thoughts went back to when we fought here at Nerzelis. If I had no telepathic and telekinetic abilities, she would beat the s**t out of me with her combat style and magic. She somehow became a lethal and ferocious warrior and a powerful mage. However, my ability to control my mind gave me a slight advantage. And I used it at the right moment when she put her guard down, as she was overly focused on fighting with Norgarth. That gave me an advantage to get into her head. My telepathic and telekinetic abilities are potent but also toxic, vicious and addictive.

My power gives a lot to the one who wields it. But it also takes a lot from the one. At first, it was a fun and almost transcendent feeling to be able to attack her with her own thoughts, fears, feelings, insecurities and regrets. However, with time, her pain and emotions merged with mine and became the burden that started to suffocate me. I am finding it excruciating and am becoming unable to handle it. For some inexplicable reason, whatever I do to her gets back to me tenfold. Initially, pain and anguish seemed an annoying nuisance and side-effect at first. With time, it became a severe challenge.

Now, in the moment you could call a moment of sheer weakness or stupidity, whatever you like, I have just stopped her torment. I saw that she was on the brink of insanity. The pang of pain somewhere deep within me was unbearable and asphyxiating. I stopped the telepathic projection and teleported myself into her enchanted cloak. She was sitting on the ground, swinging back and forth, crouched, both of her hands fiercely holding her ears as if she wanted to rip them from her head. She was screaming violently, although her voice seemed more hoarse than I remember. I crouched to her eye level to see her empty gaze that held agony and trepidation.

She looked at me with horror, and for some unknown reason, this pained me more than I was ready to admit to myself. She looked vulnerable, miserable and small, cocooned as a little girl. She looked at me as if I was part of another loop projection, and I understood that she was daunted by what will this hell-loop be about. She lost the sense of the difference between reality and the projections of her mind. Her scent, so alluring and divine, had overtaken my senses. She smelled like a spring meadow full of lilies of the valley, hyacinths and roses. The weirdest thing is that I should hate the spawn of my mother’s killer, and gosh, I tried. But the more I tried, the more I felt pain…and…pity.

Was it pity? Was it something else? Something more profound than that.

I gently moved her hands from her ears, and she started to shake uncontrollably, glancing at the unknown point with an empty gaze, eyes wide open and raw fear written all over her face while tears soaked it. She sniffled and sobbed. I touched her chin, lightly lifting her head to meet her gaze. Her lips quivered, and her body started to tremor uncontrollably as if she was in shock. I moved her amethyst locks away from her face and tucked her hair gently behind her ear. She didn’t utter a word but started to crawl backwards while all her body shook violently. I was so smitten with being close to her as if I was the one whose mind was controlled now. Was it? She crawled to the boundary of her cloaking spell enclosure. She was visibly daunted when she realised she had nowhere to escape. I walked to her and crouched down again, looking at her to gauge every emotion on her face. For a genuinely tall girl, she seemed so small, fragile and vulnerable. Her lavender eyes, wide and welled with tears, were watching me intently while holding terror.

Then…even to my own surprise…I got closer to her, touching her lips, salty and softened by her tears, and I pressed the most gentle, feather-like kiss on her warm lips. She tasted like the wild black cherries in early May. For some unfathomable reason, she awakened emotions other than hate, revenge and anger in me. No one has managed to do that since mother died. Is it because she looks so frail and broken? Is it because I was in her mind and could see that her feelings are not marred with malice despite her ancestry and despite the plight that men who surrounded her in her life caused, me included? Even her thoughts of Malletigan seem revengeful at first hand. However, beneath the surface of anger, she still longed for him to be a fatherly figure in her life as he should have been in the first place. The most disturbing thoughts she has are those of me. It looks like she is afraid of me but is also attracted to me simultaneously. Despite all the predicament I caused her, she still has no bad intentions towards me.

Ok, yes, I saw that she wanted to beat me up, but hey, I don't blame her, considering the s**t she went through because of me and by me.

If I were in her shoes, I would’ve wanted the same…and probably more. I mean, I put her through the torment, although she had nothing to do with the painful moments of my past. What would be my anger level towards her if she had put me through the torment I put her through? I don’t know. What a f**k is going on with me? What are these thoughts? I sound like a prissy auntie who is watching East Enders and sipping afternoon tea. She trembled and cried softly, trying to cower away whilst looking for a way out. Her pendant around my neck started to pulsate in neon lilac, and I kissed her soft, inviting and luscious lips again, but this time with fervour and passion which brewed within me. I was not able to deny that anymore. I suckled and teased her warm and wet lips, asking for access to deepen my kiss.

Fuck! I am losing control. And damn, I loved every f*****g second of it. Although aware that I shouldn’t lose it as she is likely not in the right set of mind now but, f**k, I can’t help it. She attracts me like a magnet. I felt her wolf taking over control and heard their banter. While Aralyn was protesting against it, her wolf, Meena, I think I gathered that was her name, was feisty, upfront and ready to give herself in.

To me. To be mine. I have even heard Meena acknowledge me as a mate, which annoyed Aralyn to an entirely new level. These Lycan whatnots might prove to be something interesting and novel to explore.

As Meena ignored her and kissed me with hunger, I just thought about how I wanted to ram my painfully hard c**k deep inside her and taste her. i***t, you have just tortured the girl for weeks and stopped seconds ago. You stopped because you finally got your head out of your ass, I thought to myself. Is kissing and making out the first and best thing I could come up with after being her judge, jury and executioner for weeks? Not to even mention what I did to her before in Avesta. She must be hating my guts, and rightfully so. Her Lycan is her animalistic side, which prioritises emotions over the ratio. That does not give me the right to misuse it.

Am I just tormenting her again by messing with her wolf while her human counterpart is obviously not consenting to this? You took her free will away again, prick, I thought. The same way as they did to my mother. That tiny voice of conscience squeaked in my head. f**k, I am the son of the devil. I have no conscience. Do I? f**k, this is so wrong and f****d up on so many levels. Why I can’t seem to shake away these thoughts and desires? I am usually all about self-control and restraint. My emotions have always been in check since I lost my mother. And now, my feelings were all over the place after the moment of weakness and sharing just one kiss. I mean, my emotions are always all around the place when she is around. Oh, f**k, this is complicated.

No woman had ever had such an effect on me. And many nameless women and demons went through my life and bed. Aralyn and Meena are the exact same persona, but they are so different, which is so strange and intriguing. Alluring, even maybe? Meena was her alter ego, the one who lived in a moment. And she is now in front of me, the epitome of the fierce warrior and a goddess. Her eyes were radiant lilac gems, full of lust, illuminating lavender light as a beacon. She was beautiful, and unlike Aralyn, who is reserved, reclusive and gentle, Meena was witty, confident, bold, strong and oozing authority. She knew what she wanted, and now she wanted me. That was clear. My c**k twitched at the sight of her skin covered with lavender runes that rippled through her arms. My eyes trailed to her skimpy shirt, which uncovered runes on her cleavage. And her scent was so sweet and mesmerising. I kissed her hungrily, wanting to rip the pesky clothes off of her. I was unable to control myself or my painfully hardened d**k. I just want to bury myself deep in her and devour and possess every inch of her body and soul. I wanted Meena now and here and Aralyn alike.

Aralyn’s POV

“What is this now? Meena!!!” I desperately shouted at my dumb, horny Lycan, and all I got from her was a purr of excitement and pure ecstasy. He tasted like a field of mint with a covert mixture of sandalwood, cedar, and musk tinged beneath the dominant scent of mint. The hussy wolf within me moaned with thrill. “Hey, you useless mutt!” I called on Meena. “Let me remind you that your priority is to support me and not fulfil your carnal, dire desires.”

“Oh, Aralyn”, she moaned and shoved me off in the back of my mind, “…shut up while I am enjoying the touch and taste of this muscled hunky god of the underworld. He tastes like the sweetest mint candy melting in my mouth. Let me explore if he tastes like that all over his body.” the idiotic horny wolf said and grabbed his crotch. Marcellus twitched and grunted in surprise at our unexpected invasion of his family jewels, but not for long. The next moment, he kissed us with an even greater fervour.

“Ooh la la, Mr demon, someone is well-equipped down south. Aralyn, you are still young and wet behind the ears when it comes to this. Let me play around with our mate. You would probably sit around and cry your ass out when you’d see the inventory the chap has in stock. You wouldn’t even know what to do with the bloke. So, sit down and enjoy.”

“Are you f*****g kidding me, you horny dumbass wolf? I sighed, mentally rolling my eyes, and pinched the bridge of my nose. “The guy had crucified us with torture for months, and he pecks your lips once, and you are all undone and ready for hanky-panky? Moron, how can you be sure that this is not another mind game of his or another hell loop?” But the damn horny wolf kept moaning in my head as she got all handsy with him. “Different and special, Lycan, my ass.” I scoffed internally. Meena, you are just goddamn useless and brainless distraction of my mind.” I retorted.

“Hey, stop it, Meena.” I tried to reason with her: “Have you seen what they did to that woman who killed herself in front of her little son? Didn’t you learn your f*****g lesson with this monster after so much torture he put us through!? He may look like an angel, but he is the embodiment of the devil. For god’s sake, he IS a son of a devil.” I tried to warn the obtuse wolf.

“He is our mate!!!” she quipped and scoffed. Then the bloody wolf shoved me deeper into the pits of our mind and deepened the kiss with Marcellus. I could sense that he was having some internal battle with himself. After a while, he pulled out of the kiss, hesitantly though, breathing heavily as if he had just run the marathon. This exasperated Meena. He looked at us intently as if he was exploring our emotions and asking for consent to kiss me again. Get your psychedelic mind and body the f**k away from me, you psychopath, I thought to myself, and Meena internally snarled at me. I saw his face contorted with pain as if he could read what just came across my mind and as if this disturbed him. Why would he even care what I think about this?

And if he does, where was he till now to show me that care instead of torture? What kind of Jekyll/Hyde s**t is he into?

“What, you want to have s*x with a guy who physically and emotionally abused us for ages? Do you have any bloody self-respect or reason within that thick dog skull, you freaky wolf? You should be kicking his ass now and not sizing his d**k. Are you into masochism, i***t? If you are, I am not. Do you want him to torture us back again? You saw how powerful he is. We should be frying that big ding-dong of his with our powers. You should certainly not jump on his d**k as a hungry dog to a bone. Did you forget what he was doing to us for ages just because he has a big willy?” I told to obtuse Lycan. God, it is so good to have her here with me, but sometimes I think she will be the death of me.

“He is our mate! There must be an explanation for his wrongdoings. I know it. I can feel that his intentions have changed and that this moment we shared is genuine,” she whimpered back, wincing, but she did not allow me forward. I could feel and see everything but could not come forward as Meena kept me at bay. What is this with everyone taking control of my mind?