No one ever told him what it was like to lose something. What did it feel like when you lost something that you cared about? Dominic remembers the day when his father died like it was only yesterday
How they had been riding back from slaughtering a village filled with humans. Their clothes were filled with blood and the stink of the red liquid wasn't pleasant. You would believe that Dominic would have accustomed the smell after so many years of smelling the rusty reek.
He was only sixteen back then when he snapped the neck of a doctor who was trying to save lives. After so many years he still remembers the look on the man's face, like he was staring at the eyes of a monster.
A low chuckle left Dominic's mouth.
He was right, after all, he was a monster. He had taken so many innocent lives with his father. Caesar deserves to be burnt in the lowest layers of hell and next to him there should be a place next to the previous king reserved for his son.
He was no better than him. If something he was even worse because Dominic was the one who killed his own father. No matter how evil Caesar was he didn't kill his own father.
Every year, at the anniversary of his father's death he walks to his grave and falls a single black rose that one of the garden keepers grows especially to him. It is a cruel reminder of how Caesar's blood turned it's color from deep red to as black as a coal. It was a curse that witches had sentenced after their pleading for him to stop killing humans.
The witches didn't care about the fact that humans were born from a luckless experiment. They were still one of their greatest creations. Caesar, of course, didn't give a damn about their warning and kept murdering humans until one more village was disposed of humans. The black blood was a poison that slowly stopped the heart of its carrier.
Even now, years later Dominic can hear the pleas of his father. Pleading someone to kill him and free him from the pain of your heart turning black. He remembers the look on his face as his own son thrust the rusty sword he once gave straight into his heart.
The Scotch in his class started to come to an end. No wine was strong enough to blur his mind. And that is what he needed more than anything, the strongest weapon against yourself is your own mind.
It can make you believe in things that aren't true and what are against your beliefs. It can make you see things you should rather forget and bury under the ground. Just like the hazel eyes that his mind creates just to annoy him even more.
He threw the glass he held against the nearest wall from annoyance.
She left and still the picture of her haunts his mind. His thoughts were on her and the child, no matter how drunk he got himself, he couldn't forget them. She was a fool for deciding to leave with his child. Not only did she put herself on danger but the future leader of werewolves also.
And that pissed him off even more.
After a few days of looking into things, he realized that she wasn't kidnapped as everyone believed. She walked using her pretty little legs out of the castle, away from him, and left. If he would have known better he would have thought that Foley would have taken her, after all, he was aware of the fact that there was a bounty on his mate's and son's head.
He needed to find her, find them before anything bad could happen.
That's when the door opened and a glaring beta walked in with a man with a small chest on his hands.
***
YOU ARE READING
Maeve
Werewolf"A King is not complete without his Queen." This is a story. A story that is far too unreal for anyone believe. A story that everyone should believe in. A story about love and death. A story so powerful that even the greatest and scariest leaders wi...
