In his rage, Damien had long left behind making use of his brain. His conscience seemed to have retired for the time being as the protective male within him surfaced and decided to take things in his own hands. A possessive vampire was never a good thing. Not when the object of his obsession and possession was being mistreated. And although the wolves might not have been mistreating her out rightly, he knew well what would follow their submission.
A white wolf, once surfaced and identified, was given a shrine of her own. Where her devotees came and worshiped her, where she blessed them and where she was not allowed to leave from. The shrine became her whole world, for a sacred life was considered too precious to walk on the land sullied by ill intentions and bad blood. And she was always a target to the ones who wished ill to the wolves.
So the wolf never got to venture outside, and her mate? As it went, every mortal werewolf had a mate. And since the white wolf was essentially a mortal, she too had a mate. A mate that she never gets to search for. So she is made to reside in the shrine and all unmated wolves of age approach her a night at a time. Where they would touch her and realize whether or not she was their mate.
A white wolf was a slave in the form of a incarnated deity. Her whole life was spent in the glorified cage of a shrine where maids waited upon her and commoners sought her council. And yet she was subjected to being touched. Wolves, or any mates often understood and realized the connection that they had with their other half. But male wolves seldom left the opportunity to touch a Goddess tenderly like a friend or a woman, and thus they would not look past their greed.
Elle knew not what she would be signing for if she was proved as their goddess. And more than that, Damien would never be able to swallow the thought of other men treating her like an object, kissing her neck to see if indeed she was their mate. He was repulsed by the idea, sick to his very core with jealousy ebbing at his heart. He would much rather die than allow a man to touch his darling like that.And he had seen the surprise in Elle’s eyes, he had seen how she struggle with the idea of being a goddess and how uncomfortable she was when the elders had kneeled before her, with wonder and obligation more than any real reverence. She was completely out of place and lost. He had to keep the wolves at bay, somehow convince them that what they saw as a godly aura was in fact just the glow of a woman going in her heat.
Had he completely lost his mind?
Even as the elders claimed her to be their sacred Goddess, Elle refused to ponder upon it for the time being. She absolutely could not allow herself the privilege to feel all high and mighty when people were about to loose their heads. Adrenaline cruised through her veins, making her jittery. Had these men, these warrior wolves, these beasts really bowed before her? And was she really their Goddess?
And how could Damien be so ignorant? If the wolves thought that she was their Goddess, then they simply would not make a move towards her. No matter what, they would not harm her. Damien was only making himself a target by seemingly protecting a woman who held a dagger which she very well knew how to make use of if need be.
“You lie us! Look at our Lady, no mortal can be so radiant! Your sin cannot be forgiven!!” One of the elders cried at them before he struck Damien, his beasty nails trying to claw at his chest, aiming to sink themselves deep in his heart.
Damien was anticipating as much, he easily dodged it, and judging by the movement of his feet, Elle knew he would strike. Damien would go for the elder’s throat, and mind you, he would succeed.
She could not allow that to happen. A dead elder at the hands of Lord Damien would be an immediate cause for a war, and if the two strongest species on the earth decided to kill each other, the whole world would go into an uncontrollable chaos. There would be an unimaginable imbalance and loss to the nature.
Within the blink of an eye, Elle moved with lightening speed and caught his hand, her claws digging into the forearm of his extended arm and holding Damien just before his hand made contact with the elder. She was about breathe a sigh of relief at the last moment save when the elder made a move, more like his body moved on reflex, and his claw connected to her shoulder.
A cry left her mouth, unbearable pain made her go limp as her shoulder ripped open and chunks of her flesh fell apart. Her shoulder and her left breast had deep gashes on them that oozed blood which painted the ground red at an alarming rate. The intensity of pain made her convulse and cramp all over, her ears unable to hear a thing, her eyes unable to see as all she could feel and think of was her open shoulder.
People screamed around her, arms tightened around her waist and held her in an embrace. Men were on their knees, shouting and giving orders, but she could hear none of it. Her pain made it impossible for her to focus on anything else. Her throat felt dry and her lips hurt, probably from how much she was screaming. It was as though time had decided to take a slow walk instead of a jog to enjoy her misery.
Every passing second felt as if someone was jabbing needles in her, her ears kept ringing and at this point she had started to go numb. Her shoulder and breast hurt more than she could handle and soon the edges of her eyes started going black. That was when she felt his blood at her mouth and she latched on to the source for her dear life, her survival instincts kicking into full gear.