My Alpha Mate

Chapter 24: Love

"Thus you may understand that love alone

is the true seed of every merit in you,

and of all acts for which you must atone."

Dante Alighieri - Purgatorio

Jace's Point of View-

As I stared into the face of my father, I realized how much I hated him. His cold, calculating eyes, the frown of discontentment that had been forever etched on his face. The only time that his lips would ever curl into what looked remotely like a smile was after he had massacred something. Vampires, werecats, animals, and even pack traitors. He was born for the hunt, the gleaming knife, or bullet being twisted into the back of the victim. Of some poor, innocent animal who had the bad luck of being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

I want to kill him. The thought came to me, slippery and treacherous like a snake winding it's slimy coils around what was left of my heart. The parts that he hadn't taken away from me. "What is it that you want again, son?" My father asked boredly, finally bothering to look up from his stack of paperwork. I took a deep breath, shaking the thought from my head, "We need to send soldiers out to look for Violet. She's been gone too long." My father laughed, a cruel laugh that just went up and up and up. "What's so funny?" I asked irritated. The smile on my father's face faded and went back to its usual facade. "Did you honestly disturb me from my work just to tell me to send troops out to find your little girlfriend? Please, son. Go away and let me work." He replied as he settled in his seat and went back to signing and stamping documents.

"No." I said, stubbornly watching as my father rose from his seat.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Has that little werecat made you forget your place? You are my son but I am still your Alpha, and that means you will respect me. Do not think I will not put you in your place. Do you need to reminded again of what happens when you disobey me?" I winced as I reached for my shoulder where the whip marks were. Where they would never leave me. He motioned to his wall of torture which was an assortment of whips, knives, and other weapons that had been used on me. There was once a time when I was on his famous metal table, the blood of others before me, intermingled with mine. When I was the one who screamed for mercy and shed tears of blood, and had the desire for grace. The memory was all too familiar and even though I had outgrown his beatings, I knew he wouldn't hesitate to go back to his old routine.

The whip cracked again, and I could see it slicing my skin. I cried out in pain. "Daddy, please stop!" I begged, tears streaming down my cheeks. Shame burned in my heart. "Don't you Daddy me!" He cackled, "This is what you get for breaking your mother's favorite vase, you worthless piece of trash!" He yelled as he cracked the whip again and punched me in the face. Blood and tears mixed in my face to the point where I couldn't tell if I had stopped crying or bleeding. The pain burned my skin to the point where I didn't feel alive. "Just kill me." I whispered, defeated. My father sneered at me, "You don't even deserve to die. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't keep beating you."

"It's my birthday, Daddy." I replied sadly, "I'm nine. I'm a big boy now." My father grinned and for a minute his grin looked like mercy.

"Well then take the beatings." Then he beat me until I could barely remember my name.

I growled in fury and I swiftly punched my father in the jaw. He was surprised and fell to the ground. "I'm your Alpha." He snarled, baring his teeth.

"Well then take the beatings."