Hunted

Chapter 9-Regrets of a Madman

                For once, the change actually hurt like hell, although it lasted for all of a second. This change was different from all the others, for it was born from a rage greater than the Moon itself. There was nothing gentle about the shift, just a horrible burning sensation as everything changed inside me, the crack of bones combining with my roar of rage as fur sprouted all over.

                I clawed at the ground, the air, myself. Anything to try and get this fury out of my system. But there was no stopping me, especially when I heard Azula’s quiet sobbing.

                Each cry from her throat twisted the anger inside me so tightly, I couldn’t make a sound. I dug my claws into my head, uncaring of the pain even as blood trickled down into my eyes. I shook it hard, sending little red droplets flying. They splashed down into the mud, a symbol of all that’s wrong in the world.

                My claws dug into the ground. I imagined it was the Alpha’s flesh.

                The world spun around me. My vision blurred. Darkness. Pain. Fire. Hatred.

                My fault. My own fucking fault.

                Suddenly, I jumped up from my spot on the ground and barrelled into the barrier of the circle.

                I bounced back off it and fell to the floor. Pain. So much pain. It burned me from the inside out, leaving no part of me untouched. Nothing was sacred.

                As I writhed on the floor, images of Azula hurting, crying, in pain tormented me, and I couldn’t help but think, ‘I deserve this.’

                     It hardly noticed when the ground came rushing towards my face. The whole world went black.

                                                                                    ***

Azula's POV

After what felt like a lifetime, my sobs finally ceased. My eyes were sore from crying, and my body felt dirty. Unclean. I’d scrubbed at the revolting substance on my stomach, so desperate to remove the Alpha’s claim on me. Even though it no longer scarred my skin, I could still feel it there. Could still smell it.  A declaration to all that I was his little pet. His plaything.

                That thought was enough to make me curl in a ball and retch. Nothing came out, but I knew if there’d been something in my stomach, it would have.

                When I was finally done, I slumped to the floor, exhausted. My throat burned and my tummy growled, demanding food.

                Doing my best to ignore my pleading, aching body, I fell into a fitful sleep. Images of Amias danced behind my eyes, bringing with them a confusing swirl of emotions.

                Lust. Hurt. Confusion.

                Even in sleep, I argued with myself. How could I feel lust for him after everything he’d done? He’d looked me in the eye and lied right to my face. There was no greater treachery than that.

                But despite my mind’s objections, my heart didn’t seem to care. And evidently, my heart was the one controlling the dream, because it showed me images that sent a spike of desire rushing through me.

                Amias and I were alone in a large meadow, the sweet sound of silence filling my ears. We were surrounded by long grass, the scent of it filling my nostrils, although it was nothing compared to Amias’ intoxicating smell.