~
(72 years earlier)
Aren’t you a pretty little thing.” I purred, as I admired the glitter shining from the infinity symbol standing vertically, my newly administered mark, upon the side of this woman's face. I wasn’t even sure of her name, but I didn’t care. She was a vision of loveliness, a petite and delicate beauty with a presence that belied her small stature. Her blonde hair, styled in a chic bob cut, framed her face and accentuated her striking features. Her deep blue eyes sparkled like sapphires, shining brightly with a warmth and kindness that drew me in. Her tanned skin glowed with a healthy, sun-kissed radiance, adding to her natural beauty and effortless charm.
She was a Wolf, I could hear her Wolf’s internal dialogue which made it that much easier to know what she wanted. I preferred Wolves, they were easier to mark and more obedient. “She will do… for the next few weeks at least.” I smirked at Axel. I had marked a plethora of women, but never completed the mating ritual making the mark permanent. It’s too much fun to just play.
I had never found a woman who really piqued my interest anyway. Plus, I was busy, always busy running these Covens. I had 19 Covens under myself, and their Priests were always so needy. That, and trying to keep order in the Underworld, who had time for a mate around here? Most of us Reavers were like this. All work, no play. Speaking of work, I had a Coven meeting in 10 minutes and I wouldn't want to be late to my own meeting. “Honey, why don't you make yourself at home. I'll be back later.” I purred to my new plaything. “Anything for you.” She cooed, and seated herself on my bed, pulling my silver comforter up over her slender legs.
How easily swayed by the mark these playthings were. It was almost sickening, really, but I was sure she would be there when I returned. They always were. The mark in and of itself is a wild form of magic, she couldn’t resist it.
I materialized at the head of the table. I had 19 other Priests around the table patiently awaiting my arrival. “Order.” I spat. Instantly, everyone went eerily silent. Enough so that you could hear a pin drop. The sudden, oppressive silence was like a palpable force, a heavy blanket that smothered the room, stifling all sound and movement. The air was thick with tension leaving everyone suspended in a state of expectant, fearful anticipation, waiting for something, anything, to break the suffocating silence.
I was, as you could say, respected, by the Priests of each Coven, along with their Coven members. I made visits to each Coven regularly to ensure things were going well. Upon my arrival people stopped and stood at attention. My presence commanded it, I suppose, as I had never asked them to, they just did it.
It was a spontaneous display of respect, a testament to the authority and presence that I embodied. I hadn't requested this show of deference, but it had become a habitual response to my presence, a nod to the power and influence that I wielded. I suppose I could have stopped them, let them stand at ease in my presence, but what’s the fun in that?
“First point of business, where are we at with the Necromancers?” I asked. The Necromancers were the biggest issue we had right now. We were in the middle of trying to make an alliance with them as they were one of the only creatures that could threaten our existence.
The delicate dance of diplomacy was a precarious one, especially when dealing with a force as formidable as the Necromancers. Their ability to wield the power of the dead, summoning forth an army of undead minions, was a capability that could tip the balance of power in their favor, making them a force to be reckoned with.
And so, it was imperative that we secured their allegiance, binding them to our cause through the ties of mutual benefit and cooperation. The alternative? Facing their wrath and the unrelenting tide of their undead armies… and that was a prospect too dire to even contemplate.
They were scavenging our dead on our lands, this is what started this entire conversation. The Necromancers' brazen disregard for our territorial sovereignty had been a festering wound, a provocation that had been gnawing at my patience for far too long. Their scavenging of our fallen kin on our own lands was a desecration that struck at the very heart of our honor and our traditions. It was an intolerable trespass, one that demanded a resolution.
And so, it was this grievance that had set us on the path to forging an alliance with the necromancers, a delicate and fraught endeavor that aimed to balance our need for security with the imperative of protecting our sacred lands and our fallen dead. One of my Priests, Jerome, his name was, spoke up.
“We have been in treaty talks with them for the past month. They are reluctant to agree to our terms, continually reassessing the deal and changing things. We will continue working on them.” Then he sat back down.
“What is it they are asking for now, Jerome?” I asked. “Sir, they want the bodies of our dead, and those of anyone we kill.” He said. My face hardened. “They can have the bodies of those we kill, but not of our own kind. That is my final offer. Take that to them, and report back when you know more.” I snapped. “Yes sir.” He said, and he materialized out of the room.
“Next line of business, how is training going? Have we incorporated the new curriculum for our newly turned and young yet?” I asked. The negotiations continued unabated, a meticulous and deliberate process of ensuring that every detail, every nuance, and every eventuality was thoroughly discussed and understood by all parties involved.
The Coven Priests listened intently, their faces set in determined expressions, as they committed every word, every phrase, and every stipulation to memory. The air was thick with the weight of responsibility, as we all knew that the success of our Covens depended on the precise execution of our plans.
And so, we pored over every contingency, every potential threat, no matter how remote, and devised strategies to neutralize them, our minds working in tandem to forge a united front against any adversity that might arise. As the hour drew to a close, a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment settled over us, born of the knowledge that our agreement was founded on a bedrock of mutual understanding, respect, and cooperation.
“Same time two weeks from now, you know the drill.” I spat, and they all materialized away leaving me in an empty room to mull over my thoughts. My thoughts, however, kept going back to my plaything. I guess my work was done, time to play.
I materialized back to my home, and my plaything was exactly as I had left her. Of course she was, no one can resist the marks pull. She would slit her own throat if I had asked her to. Trust me, I’ve asked before. It was a rather gory outcome.
Axel Snickered in my mind reminding me of our last plaything. She was a Vampire. Her physical appearance had barely registered on my consciousness, overshadowed as it was by the weight of our negotiations and the gravity of our discussions. I recalled only one distinguishing feature, her raven-black hair, which cascaded down her back like a waterfall of night. Beyond that, her beauty was a vague, impressionistic notion, a fleeting glimpse of elegance and poise that had left no lasting impression on my mind.
Poor darling… she pushed too hard and kept trying to complete the mating process. This was something I wasn’t about to do, especially with her. “Take your own life.” I spat at her. “Yes Raphael.” She said, and with tears in her eyes she shoved her hand into her chest and ripped her own heart out. Her hand, now clenched around the pulsing, crimson organ, trembled with a mix of anguish and determination.
Tears streamed down her face, mingling with the streaks of blood that now marred her pale skin. I chuckled as she fell to the floor. Well that was creative. I thought. I knew it was harsh, but I didn’t care. These women, they just don't appease me.
In that instant, a profound understanding dawned on me, illuminating the true nature of the mate mark and the depth of its influence. I grasped, with startling clarity, the magnitude of the power that I wielded over the one who bore the mark… a power that transcended the boundaries of love, loyalty, and even free will.
I snapped back to reality and realized that my plaything was, in fact, still waiting. I closed the distance between us and smashed my lips into hers. The kiss was a clash of lips and emotions, a fierce and desperate attempt to spark a flame that refused to ignite. I could feel the anger and frustration simmering beneath the surface, a potent mix that drove me to press harder, to try and elicit some semblance of passion or connection.
But despite the intensity of the kiss, I felt nothing. No flutter in my chest, no rush of excitement, no tender stirring of emotions. The mate mark, that constant and insistent presence, pulsed with its familiar energy, but it was a hollow, mechanical response, one that I had grown accustomed to. It was a stark reminder that my feelings, my true emotions, remained stubbornly elusive, locked away behind a wall of indifference.
From the reaction her Wolf had, I could tell she felt the marks pull. They always did.The telltale signs were unmistakable - the subtle tensing of her muscles, the faint whisper of a growl, the almost imperceptible flicker of her eyes. It was a reaction I had witnessed before. The mark, that mystical and binding symbol, exerted a primal pull, one that transcended rational thought and spoke directly to the heart of the beast.
I pulled away and looked into her deep blue eyes. “Why don’t I feel anything for you?” I asked her. She stayed silent, she had no answer. I didn’t have an answer either. “Get on your knees.” I commanded. She immediately dropped down as I undid my belt. Her eyes, those windows to the soul, had grown dark and sultry, burning with an unmistakable hunger. It was a look that spoke of longing and need, of a deep-seated craving that could not be ignored.
She definitely wanted this. Maybe, if she was good enough, I wouldn’t kill her, I thought, as I pulled out my cock and she took it into her mouth. My plaything pushed me down onto the bed to get a better angle but I could soon tell she was struggling with my girth. “Relax.” I purred to her. “Just open your throat, and go slow.” I whispered softly.
She immediately obeyed, and I growled under my breath as she took in almost all of my length. “Much better.” I said. I grabbed the back of her head pushing her down further now that she was able to take my length, or most of it. My soft moans seem to fuel her but I knew that was because of the mark.
The mere sound of my voice was enough to send shivers coursing through her veins, her body responding to the deep, rumbling tones like a harp string plucked by an unseen hand. But it was my touch that held the real power, a spark of electricity that seemed to arc through her very being, leaving her breathless and trembling.
The mate mark, that mystical bond between us, amplified every sensation, every whispered promise, and every gentle caress, until even the lightest brush of my skin against hers became a potent catalyst for desire.
I lightly ran my finger along her temple tracing the infinity mark on her face. She went harder and faster, as expected, which is what I needed.
“Just like that.” I moaned. Just as I was about to come, I pulled out of her mouth and held her head there and smiled as thick spurts of cum splattered on her pretty little face. The orgasm was great, sure. But that's literally all it was… an orgasm. Nothing more.
“Get yourself cleaned up.” I snapped. She smiled at me, and ran to the bathroom trying not to get any on the floor on her way there. “At least she’s considerate of my floors.” I said to Axel. He burst out laughing. He was just as fucked up as I was. “God, we need a hobby.” He snorted.
I was just getting my pants back up and zipped when she came back in. Her face had no trace of me on it. “Good girl.” I purred, and took her in my arms. “I love you, Raphael.” She said softly. I looked down at her. “I'm sure you do, darling. I'm sure you do.” I replied.
We climbed into bed after that, and I snapped to produce a book. As the hours ticked by, the soft glow of the words on the page cast a calming spell, and the gentle rise and fall of my plaything’s chest as she breathed became a soothing accompaniment to my reading. The warmth of her body, pressed against mine, was a familiar presence, and I felt a slight sense of unease wash over me as I turned the pages, trying to get lost in the world of the book.
I soon found myself thinking of the mark once again and its plethora of powers. Once the mark fades the feelings that were fabricated will fade with it. But if, however, there are real feelings there, they will remain. I never had real feelings, of course… but once in a while one of them would. It never ended well though. I wasn’t about to claim someone forever if I didn’t truly love her.
My gaze drifted downward, taking in the peaceful lines of her face, the gentle curve of her lips, and the soft rise and fall of her chest as she slept. I searched within myself, scouring the depths of my emotions, hoping to find some spark, some flicker of feeling that would tell me I was alive, that I was capable of connection.
But as always, I came up empty. The numbness, the void within me, remained, a constant reminder that I was a soul adrift, unmoored from the world of emotions that seemed to come so naturally to others.
We woke up early, around 6:00 am. That was usual for me. My plaything was in the shower. As I stood there, listening to the sound of the water cascading down, I felt a fleeting urge to step into the shower alongside her. But it was a hollow impulse, one that I couldn't quite explain, even to myself. I didn't genuinely desire her company, nor did I feel any emotional connection to her. She was, after all, merely a plaything, a distraction from the emptiness that lay at the heart of my existence. And yet, the more I indulged in these fleeting moments of intimacy, the more I risked entangling her emotions, binding her to me with threads of attachment and affection. It was a prospect that filled me with a sense of disquiet, a reminder that my actions had consequences, even if I didn't truly care. I sighed out loud, caught up in my thoughts when I was mind linked by Jerome. “Sir, the Necromancer King doesn’t want to agree to the deal… he wants all the bodies, not just the ones w
"Take your new toy and meet me at home." Blaze said, and I knew he wasn't asking. "Yes, daddy." Haven replied. As she knelt beside the lifeless form of my plaything, her arms extended in a gesture of supplication, a sudden, eerie transformation took hold. Her eyes, once a vibrant green, turned a milky white, as if the very essence of her being was being rewritten. The air around her began to churn and writhe, a dark, shimmery substance coalescing into a whirlwind that swirled around her like a living entity. The atmosphere grew heavy with an otherworldly energy, and I could feel the weight of something ancient and foreboding stirring to life. "Per manum meam, et mortui resurgent." She chanted in Latin. I believe she said, ‘by my hand, the dead shall rise.’ As I stood transfixed, my former plaything began to stir, her body twitching back to life. With a fluid motion, she rose to her feet, her neck cracking audibly as she snapped it back into place. Her eyes, once bri
I was right, the week had dragged on and on, seeming as if it were never going to end. I was looking forward to my meeting with Blaze, but more importantly I hoped I could get another glimpse at Haven. She was the one who had been occupying my thoughts, her enigmatic presence lingering in my mind like a ghost. Even the disturbing intensity of our dream encounter couldn't dim the fascination I felt towards her. If anything, it only seemed to have fueled my desire. Those fleeting seconds had been enough to leave a lasting impression, though. Her image was seared into my memory: the striking features, the piercing eyes, the wild tangle of red hair. But beyond that, I knew nothing. No hint of her personality, no glimpse of her values or motivations. She was a mystery, a cipher, and I found myself wondering what lay beneath her enigmatic surface. I materialized at the clearing where I was to meet with Blaze again to finalize our deal. The scene unfolded with a sense of ritualist
Time seemed to stretch and blur, the endless procession of trees and underbrush blending together in a maddening rhythm. The silence between us was oppressive, punctuated only by the soft crunch of leaves and snapping of twigs beneath our feet. I couldn't help but feel a growing sense of anticipation, a building tension that seemed to vibrate through every cell in my body. And then, suddenly, the trees parted, The clearing emerged from the dense foliage like a sudden revelation, the imposing wooden gate dominating the space with its sheer size and ominous presence. The Necromancer soldiers stood at attention, their dark armor and impassive faces exuding an aura of foreboding and authority. The air was heavy with the weight of magic and power, and I could sense the gate's significance, its role as a threshold to a realm both mysterious and treacherous. Haven's pace slowed as we approached, her eyes scanning the gate and its guards with a mixture of caution and curiosity.
It was about 6:45 pm when Haven knocked on my door. I set my book down to answer it. She grabbed my hand and we headed down to dinner. As we descended to the dining hall, the gentle pressure of Haven's hand around mine was a pleasant surprise. I had expected her to maintain her reserve, but instead, she seemed to be sending mixed signals. The brief touch sparked a flutter in my chest, leaving me wondering what other unexpected moments the evening might hold. Just as quickly as it began, the connection was broken, Haven releasing my hand as we approached the dining hall and I was surprised she’d held onto it that long. A sly smile spread across my face as I pondered Haven's bold move. She was a true wildflower, unafraid to take risks and push boundaries. The fact that she had held my hand, even briefly, in a place where discovery could mean much more than trouble, only added to her allure. The danger of being caught, far from deterring me, only seemed to heighten the thrill
God damnit. The frustration and annoyance were palpable, and I couldn't help but let out a silent sigh. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I felt a familiar tension headache brewing, a testament to the complexities and challenges that seemed to be piling up around me. Dealing with the Risen was never easy, and the fact that this specific Risen was a Cryomancer, only added to the tangled web of problems I was already facing. My mind was racing with the implications, the potential consequences of the Cryomancer's captivity and her newfound state as one of the Risen. The Cryomancers' attacks were no longer just a random act of aggression, but a desperate attempt to rescue one of their own. And when they finally succeeded in retrieving her, the revelation that she was dead and had been Risen would be a spark that would ignite a powder keg of conflict. A war between the Cryomancers and the Necromancers was a daunting prospect, one that could have far-reaching and devastating conseq
The vivid images of Haven, Necromancers, and Cryomancers swirled through my mind like a maelstrom, each scene bleeding into the next in a chaotic dance of color and sound. I was a passive observer, trapped in the labyrinthine corridors of my own subconscious, as my dreams attempted to process the tangled web of emotions and loyalties that had ensnared me. And yet, despite the turmoil, I had deliberately chosen not to dreamwalk, to instead allow my mind to wrestle with the demons that haunted me. I had hoped that by surrendering to the chaos, I might stumble upon some hidden insight, some elusive thread that would help me unravel the complexities of our situation and find a way forward. But as the dreams finally began to recede, leaving me feeling drained and unsettled, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was no closer to finding the answers I so desperately sought. The hot water of the shower helped to clear my mind, washing away the lingering fogginess of my dreams. As I dr
The sound of Haven's worried voice pierced the fog, her urgent tone echoing through my mind. "Raphael! Raphael..." she whispered, her words accompanied by the gentle slapping of my face. I struggled to respond, my eyelids fluttering open to find myself cradled in Haven's arms. As my gaze locked onto hers, memories began to resurface, fragmented and disjointed, but slowly falling into place. The events leading up to my collapse came flooding back. Marina, my frustration, the scotch, Haven in that short dress… ah, that short dress. The passion, the intensity, and the overwhelming sensation that had consumed me. As I sat up, the foggy haze began to clear, and I felt the familiar, unsettling sensation receding from my mind. It was the same thick, fuzzy feeling I experienced whenever Marina communicated with me telepathically. It was as if something was slithering through my thoughts, leaving a trail of unease in its wake. I couldn't help but feel a strong aversion to this sensat
e finally broke apart, gasping for air as we gazed into each other's eyes. I took a moment to simply drink in the beauty of the woman before me, my heart swelling with emotion. How did I, a creature of the night, deserve such a radiant and loving soul? I felt like the luckiest being alive. As I basked in the warmth of our connection, I knew this was the perfect moment to ask my next question. "Okay, one last question," I began, but before I could continue, Roxy's voice cut through the air, her words spilling out in a rush. "I actually have a question for you," Roxy said, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes. I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh?" I replied, my curiosity piqued. Roxy's smile grew, and she asked, "When are you going to mark me?" I was taken aback, my mind reeling in surprise. This was the very question I had been about to ask her. I shouldn't have been shocked, though, Roxy had done her research, pouring over ancient texts and gathering knowledge for her com
I rowed us beneath the sweeping branches of the willow tree, the leaves whispering softly above us as we glided into a secluded, tranquil alcove. This was my sanctuary, a place where I often came to collect my thoughts and calm my mind. I let the boat drift, and we floated in silence, the only sound the gentle lapping of the water against the hull. The moment seemed suspended, and I knew it was now or never to ask the question that had been weighing on my mind. I gazed into Roxy's eyes, my tone solemn and sincere. "You know I would never pressure you into something you're not comfortable with, don't you?" I asked, seeking reassurance that she trusted me implicitly. Roxy's expression faltered, confusion etching her beautiful features as she searched my face for clues. "Of course, I know that," she replied, her voice steady and confident, dispelling any doubts I may have had. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the conversation ahead. "Given everything that's happened ov
As I mentioned Roxy's name, I caught a fleeting glimpse of Haven's expression hardening, her eyes flashing with a momentary glint of anger. But I didn't give it much thought, simply offering her a casual farewell. "Bye, Haven," I said, waving briefly before materializing back to Roxy's side. She was standing with Jerome, looking poised and ready to leave. I felt a flicker of confusion… I didn't remember bringing her here, but maybe I had done it out of caution? Yet, why would I have been worried about visiting Ramses with Roxy by my side? I pushed the uncertainty aside, focusing on Roxy's expectant gaze. She seemed ready to move, and I fell into step beside her, letting my concerns fade into the background. I turned to Jerome and the other warriors, offering them a nod of gratitude. "Thank you," I said, my gaze sweeping over the group. Jerome's expression turned serious, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I take it the threat has been neutralized?" he asked. I felt a jolt of conf
I watched in horror, frozen in place, as The Shadows enveloped Layna, their dark tendrils slicing through her body with ruthless efficiency. They drained her of every last drop of blood, their malevolent presence seeming to revel in her agony. Her screams echoed through the cell, a haunting, soul-shattering sound that left me feeling shattered and guilty. I had never witnessed The Shadows claim a life before, and the brutality of it was staggering. The sheer horror of what I was witnessing left me reeling, my mind struggling to comprehend the magnitude of Layna's sacrifice. She had chosen this path, had willingly offered herself up to The Shadows as a gesture of gratitude, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I didn't deserve such a sacrifice. Her actions seemed to imply that I had done something worthy of such a profound thank you, but I knew better. I knew that I didn't merit this kind of devotion, and that realization only added to the weight of my guilt. Layna's words
A sense of foreboding settled in the pit of my stomach as I gazed at Haven's enraged form. It was clear that she was seething with a deep-seated anger, and I had a sinking feeling that I was, again, about to become the focal point of her ire. Haven's finger shot out, accusingly pointing at Roxy as she spat out her words. "Why, Raphael? Why her?" The venom in her voice was palpable, and I could feel the weight of her resentment bearing down upon me. I sighed inwardly, a sense of weary frustration washing over me. "Oh, my god, Haven, we are not doing this again," I retorted, my voice firm but laced with a hint of exasperation. Incredulity warred with annoyance within me as I struggled to comprehend the depths of Haven's petty jealousy. Could it really be that this entire, catastrophic mess had been spawned by her own insecurities? The thought was almost laughable, if it weren't so infuriating. Get the fuck over it, I mentally seethed, my frustration simmering just below the s
My gaze lingered on Roxy, and I knew that leaving her with Jerome would ensure her safety. I trusted him implicitly, and this was the most logical decision. Yet, as our eyes met, I sensed a flicker of understanding, as if she knew I was contemplating leaving her behind. Her silence was unnerving, and I couldn't discern whether it was the magic's influence or her own reservations. I gently cradled her face in my hand, my voice low and soothing. "If I take you with me, you'll witness things that will haunt you. I'm sorry, but I won't spare any of them. They can’t be allowed to live, not a single one." I watched as a maelstrom of emotions swirled in her brown eyes, a silent struggle between her Human sensibilities and the harsh realities of the Underworld. It was a battle she couldn't win, for in my world, the rules of mortality didn't apply. Her eyes seemed to plead with me, yet simultaneously acknowledge the inevitability of my actions. I wished for more time to explain the
I languished in my own despair, lost in a sea of regret and self-recrimination, until the passage of time became distorted, stretching into an eternity. It was only when I glanced down at Roxy's arm, noticing that the cut had vanished, leaving behind unblemished skin, that I was jolted back to reality. I focused my Vampire senses, straining to detect the faintest whisper of a heartbeat, but there was only silence. Yet, the fact that she was healing was a beacon of hope, a reassuring sign that her revival was imminent. A wave of relief washed over me, bringing with it a sense of tentative optimism. However, the prolonged duration of her revival puzzled me, sparking a nagging question: did the distance from the Land of the Dead impact the speed of the revival process? The uncertainty lingered, a persistent shadow in my mind. In hindsight, I probably should have returned her to the familiarity of our home, but I hesitated, fearing that the sudden change of environment might sta
The shock etched on Layna's face was almost comical, and I couldn't help but be amused by her reaction. With a final, lingering glance, I materialized outside her cell, leaving her to ponder our exchange. "I'll be back," I called out, my voice low and smooth. "As you're aware, I still require your... assistance. Let's just say it would be prudent for your intel to prove accurate, little Necromancer." My parting words were laced with a subtle warning, and I could sense a shiver run down her spine. With that, I vanished, rematerializing in Jerome's office. I instantly established a mental link with my men, conveying the details of my encounter with Layna and issuing orders to assemble our troops. We possessed various methods to disrupt magic, and we would employ every trick in the book to ensure our mission's success. I briefed Jerome and his men on the intel I'd gathered, and he swiftly relayed the information to his own team through a mental link. Our plan was taking shape:
~(Raphael)Roxy's demeanor this morning was off, a subdued quietude that seemed out of character. I attributed it to our passionate encounter the night before, wondering if perhaps I had pushed her too far, too fast. She hadn't complained, of course, her words still echoed in my mind, "that was Incredible," she had whispered. But I couldn't shake the feeling that I might have overwhelmed her. The bite, in particular, weighed on my conscience. I had acted on instinct, unable to restrain myself, but I knew it might have been too much for a Human to process. I longed to ask her about it, to gauge her emotions and reassure her, but I hesitated. Her newfound Risen state made her vulnerable, and I knew she struggled to express herself freely. I decided to wait, to give her space, and hope that she would open up to me when the time was right. Frustration simmered within me, a lingering resentment from my last encounter with the Necromancer. I had hoped she would yield some crucial