And There Were Wolves

(d) fourteen

Ryker POV

The shittiest thing about having to deal with this insufferable disease was that I had no recollection of what I'd done whenever Khrysaor took over. I was completely left in the dark thus there were these blank moments in my memories, gaps here and there that I wasn't able to fill. I could ask Khrysaor about it but sometimes even he couldn't remember. It was as if we both had a brain tumor or something. It was maddening. I supposed that was one of the many reasons why it had earned its name. Mad Wolf. 

Back when the disease hadn't been this advanced, I was able to control it. Just like two years ago when I'd realized that Khrysaor had been drinking Adelina's blood. I'd managed to stop despite the urges and save Adelina's life. She'd had bruises all over but at least, she hadn't died. Violence and blood. Those were the two things that it was after. 

No. There was a third thing. Xyrra. Just by having her name crossing my mind, my whole body shuddered in pure anguish due to insatiable, unsated desire. My body longed for her, to feel her touch and to touch her. In the first few weeks when I was still able to get my hands on the steering wheel and temporarily shove this disease inside the trunk, I'd stolen a few moments just to see her. 

At first, I'd been discreetly watching her like a creep from afar. It had been fine. It had been enough until one day, I'd seen her cleaning the cafe's window and a teardrop fell onto her hand. She'd quickly wiped it away for fear that her boss might see it. All I'd wanted at that time was to cross the street, rush to her, and pull her into my arms. I'd wanted to tell her that I wasn't worth crying, that she shouldn't waste her tears on me. Somehow I'd managed to fight against the hankering. 

Yet when I'd seen Eros with her, I'd lost it. He'd only been holding her hand, it had been an innocent, friendly touch but all I'd wanted was to grab him and tear his arm off. I'd had to walk around the block to calm myself down, and only when I'd been absolutely sure that I'd regained enough control that I'd gone back there again. Hours had indeed passed. 

Even until this very moment, I still remembered that day, that night. 

She'd finished work and bid goodbye to her colleagues. I'd always known that she would've had to take her bike to the small alley behind the cafe so I'd climbed up the walls and stayed on the roof, looking down and waiting for her in pure anticipation. I hadn't had any intention to approach her. All I'd wanted was to catch a glimpse of her, to breathe the same air as her. Nevertheless, those wishes to remain in the dark had been thrown out of the window the second my eyes had caught sight of her. Instinct had taken over and I'd found myself jumping down on top of the dumpster with a loud bang. I had grabbed her by her waist. The soft curves of her body had fitted mine so perfectly like two jigsaw puzzles. My mouth had descended on her and despite my wish to kiss her tenderly and savor every second of it, I'd kissed her rough, bruising her lips. 

I always knew that I'd been craving for her before I had this disease. After all, she was my mate. However, it was a thousand times worse now. There was no affection, no tenderness. It was raw. It was brutal. I wanted to sink my canines deep into her shoulder until the tip of it touched her bones. And there was nothing I wanted more than to drink all of her until there wasn't anything left. Even the thought of it scared me. 

The last straw was when I'd dumbly come to her graduation party. Amidst the crowd, our eyes had met. The connection had been so strong that I'd had to break away. I'd left the ballroom and when I'd felt her coming after me, I'd tried to hide in the bathroom which I shouldn't have done. Perhaps a tiny part of me had wished to get a whiff of her smell for one last time. 

Whatever it was, it was a dumb idea. Because the very second she'd stepped into that bathroom, there had been no turning back. When I'd sunk my canines and drunk her blood, it had taken every ounce of my being, of whatever conscience I'd left to stop drinking her blood and get the fuck out of there.