The Blood Alpha's Sacrifice - Book 4

The silver bars burned the flesh of my palms.

An inconvenient side effect of the body I wore. Silver had never bothered me before I cloaked myself in this pathetic skin, but I needed the skin. I had to be able to touch, to shape, to weave. My job, since the dawn of creation, had been to wait. To influence. To remain inevitable. But never to touch. Never to manipulate. Never to create.

For that, I needed skin.

But skin was so damn fragile. So annoyingly vulnerable.

Yet part of me relished the blisters. The burns. The pain. Pain was just so… interesting.

“Is it nearly time, boss?” The creature asked, its black eyes shining up at me out of its skeletal face. “You promised me, boss. You promised me that if I came here, if I let them lock me in, that I’d get to taste the finest stars that there ever was. You promised, boss. You promised.”

An eyebrow raised, unbidden, as I stared back at this thing. Even by my standards, this creature was vile.

“You’ve seen that she’s here. All you have to do is remember what I’ve told you.”

The creature growled. I watched its lip curl back over pointed teeth. Its eyes narrowed as it stalked forward to the bars and leaned into them. Its skin bubbled at the silver’s contact. Its skin, just as compromised and weak as my own.

“As you say, boss. As you say.”

“Where will you stay?”

“In my cage, boss. Sitting tight.”

“When will you go?”

“When the husband shows up, boss. When he shows up to claim what’s his.”

“What will you do then?”

The creature smiled at the question, excitement gleamed in its dead eyes.

“Feast, boss. On whoever I see. I’ll eat my fill.”

“And what will be your reward?”

“Stars, boss. You’ll let me taste the stars again.”

I smirked. It was small, but it was there. An involuntary reflex; another shameful, stupid thing about wearing skin. Emotions. I’d killed most of them, but pride, that one was hard to snuff out.

The truth was, it’d likely never lay a single finger on Evelyn. It’d probably die long before it saw her; my protection from its doom would end the second the husband stepped over the warding. I didn’t particularly care which of the countless wolves they would throw at it finished the job. All I cared about was that those countless wolves were thrown. It had taken a long time to cultivate this thing’s reputation. Alexander had seen first hand that it was seemingly invulnerable, I had made absolutely sure of it. He wouldn’t risk it getting anywhere near his Queen. He’d throw everything, everything at it. Including himself. He’d leave her. He'd leave her where he believed she would be safe. He’d leave her side to put it down.

It was inevitable.

I nodded. Glad it was still pliant. Pleased that it was still so manipulatable.

The crazy ones always were. Dangle the right carrot, and they’d point their insanity wherever you gestured. But the next creature, the next creature on my list wasn’t crazy. She wasn’t twisted or evil or wrong. She just was. A vaguely pleasant, utterly unremarkable little nit, who needed a lot more persuasion than the false promise of a taste of freckled skin.

I walked out of that dungeon. Walked passed the guards who paid me no mind, and up the stairs that bent beneath my feet. My palms already healing with every step taken towards fresh air.

I did not like the enhanced sense of smell that came alongside the wolf cowering in my head. It was rather attached to the human I took as my vessel, and often whimpered next to the cage that child was still trapped behind. It had its uses, and I learned early that harming the wolf was unwise. It was the one and only form I could take where Atropos could actually snip my otherwise invulnerable thread. I had considered killing it outright as it slept, but it seemed as though if I did, I’d be ripped out of this body and forced to return to Hades. It was a weakness I had not counted on, and one that infuriated me.

I rarely allowed it control, only when I had to, only when not doing so would draw attention I could not afford. I thought the mutt slow. I thought it inferior. I thought it stupid. But it had been listening. Waiting. Watching. Learning. And at that ball, that ridiculous pageantry where Annabelle had unleashed her rogues, it managed to force it’s full control the second I let it out to battle. It refused to fight, and as I grappled with its will, as I tried to pull it back, teeth clamped around my throat and squeezed.

For the first time, I tasted mortality. I felt fear.

Then Alexander saved my life.

I laughed for weeks. I couldn’t wait until he discovered that secret. The delicious despair, the self-contempt, it was awe-inspiring. A delectable delicacy no chef could ever reproduce. If only I could have heard the weeping. It had been a long time since I had heard weeping.

After that, I had to remind that mut of its place. Fear was a powerful teacher, as was pain. It would never betray me again, of that I was certain. It was a puppet. Pliable. Docile. Controlled. It feared for the child locked in its cage. It feared what it knew I would do to it if tested again. I had proven that already.

The door was blue. Worn, wooden, with the paint chipping slightly in the corners. Shambolically painted rocks with googly eyes littered the stoop. Any other creature may have called it ‘cute’. My face grimaced. Another wayward emotion flickering through; disgust. More of them had been coming out of late. More and more as the excitement of the inevitable ending drew ever closer. I opened the blue door without hesitation, crossing the threshold of a homely, modest house that was laughably sparse compared to where I had taken this woman from.

She paced the living room, her shoes wearing more holes into the threadbare carpet that sparkled with glitter that would never be truly eradicated. She was talking to herself, her lips moving rapidly, almost too rapidly for me to follow.

“Something isn’t right. It’s not right. What have I done? Why can’t I remember?” She clutched at her hair, practically tearing it from her scalp. The balls of her palms smacked into her forehead repeatedly. “I’m forgetting. Forgetting so much. I can hear it calling, I can hear the voice reaching for me, but I don’t know who it is.”

It appeared I had arrived just in time.

“Sit.”

She screamed. Her eyes widened as she saw me in her doorway, fear of the unknown man she vaguely recognised halting her rambling. And yet, she sat. Good.

I crossed the room and crouched in front of her, placing my palms on her temples and letting the fog flow into her mind. It stirred up the beetles that I had hidden in her and set them singing, set them carrying my messages. Her eyes unfocussed immediately, her mouth slackened and hung open, waiting patiently for the words I would feed it.

“You are an Omega.” I told her firmly. I felt her fight against the words, felt that small part of her mind try and fight back. It was almost adorable. “You. Are. An. Omega.”

“I am an Omega.”

Perfect.

“Your mark was forced upon you.”

“Forced upon me.”

“You ran for your own safety.”

“I ran…safe.”

“And the safety of the child.”

“Child. Safe. Ran.”

“Your husband is dangerous.”

“Danger. Danger. Husband is danger.”

“When you hear his name, you have to run.”

She didn’t respond. Just stared blankly forward. If she didn’t keep fighting back so hard, I wouldn’t have to push so much.

“When you hear your husband’s name, you have to run.”

“Run.”

“You take your child and run.”

“Take…child…run.” Her voice whimpered now.

“He will hurt her. You have to protect her.”

“Hurt.” She whined. “Protect.”

“Nowhere is safe. No one is safe.”

I kept pushing, even as the blood dripped from her nose. It was clear that she wasn’t going to survive beyond my ending. I didn’t much care, but I did need her to survive for a few months yet. I dialled back the power a little, just fractionally, just enough to keep her conscious.

“Nowhere. Safe.”

“Especially not around the Queen. The Queen brings danger. When your husband’s name is heard, the Queen will bring danger. So take your child, and run.”

“Queen, danger. Run.”

“No matter what. You keep running.”

Her head lolled forward; chin slamming into her chest. I tipped her head back, I let it loll uncomfortably, and felt the slight crack in her neck from how little strength she had left to hold her own head upright. Forcing her lips apart, I tipped the suppressant down her throat. That wolf of hers, that annoyingly powerful wolf, it needed to be subdued if I couldn't bring it to heel.

I had pushed her harder than any other creature I had ever come across. I hadn’t even pushed my vessel’s pack this far. Making her write those emails, making her alienate that Beta bitch, it may have been a step too far. But I needed that divide, I needed them fighting. I needed that mistrust between them all to fester further.

I needed Alexander’s doubt to linger.

“Keep running.” I finished, letting her lie down as my power crashed through her.

I stood, satisfied that she would remain compliant for another few weeks at least. I had a feeling that I would need to come back more frequently moving forward. Her wolf was stronger than I had anticipated, and it kept pushing forward. The suppressant should keep it at bay. Though I may need to up the dosage if it kept fighting back.

A whirlwind of chaotic, colourful energy burst into the room, chattering in a non-stop stream of words that I couldn’t fully read. In its hand, it clutched a drawing that added a further dusting of glitter to the floor.

“Mama, I home.” The small creature shouted. “I dids drawings, you wanna see?”

Her face fell as she saw her mother sleeping on the sofa, pale faced, with a small trickle of blood still dripping from her nose.

“Mama has the head owies again.” She muttered to herself, before crawling up onto the sofa and wrapping herself around her mother’s torso. “I give the special hugs again mama. Make the owies go away. You see.”

One final grimace decorated my face. One final wayward hint of disgust at the cloying sweetness of the scene, that moulded into satisfaction. Cuteness, I had learned, had its own kind of power. One that would be easily exploitable.

The final game was in motion, the pieces were all in play, the strategy flawless and unbeatable.

I would win.

It was inevitable.