Psychopathic (BoyxBoy)

Chapter 44

The funniest thing about memories is how they fade away with time when they're thought to be nothing important.

Two people could have met a long time ago, and only one would remember that fateful meeting because of the importance they associate with that memory.

When a wolf turns eighteen, they reach the age where at any moment they could find the one person they were most compatible with. Wolves believed in the moon goddess, a divine being who would interwind two people's fates leading them to each other, and some believed it was the moon itself.

Few didn't believe in a higher power at all, but they couldn't deny that there was something special about the connection they felt with their mates – that is if they were lucky enough to find them.

Because not everyone found theirs, and some take years before they do. He was only nineteen at the time.

Mates were the last thing on a younger Constantine's mind as he took a punch in the face.

It hurt; he was a little bit clumsier – less refined – but he was also dealing with another stupid werewolf wriggling in his arms.

The punch was thrown with no strength spared, and the taste of blood in his mouth only made him even more furious than he already was. If there was one thing that would ensure he'd kill someone he faced, it was the fact that they made him bleed. There was something about it that endlessly annoyed him, and he couldn't help but feel rage bubble in his chest whenever it happened.

Constantine hated it whenever he bled.

It wasn't because it meant that he made the wrong move, or the fact that he was too slow to react, no, it was none of these things. It simply just annoyed him, and sometimes he finds himself almost slipping out of control and letting his anger take ahold of him because of it.

This would mean that he'd act rash, erratic, and it would increase the probability of him getting injured once he lets his anger control him.

So with a cold irritated glare, he looked at the man who was struggling in his hold and momentarily let him go to quickly retrieve one of the knives he stashed on his person.

"You wait here." He said swiftly plunging the knife in the guy's ear letting him scream in agony before kicking him down on the ground to focus on the other.

But the sudden sound of something snapping momentarily distracted him, and he almost didn't avoid being attacked by the guy who punched him earlier. Whatever anger he felt was replaced by a stunned surprise as he grabbed onto the guy's shirt without much thought, and he gave him a punch of his own as a retaliation.

It has been a while since he got this physical, but the fact that he dislocated the guy's jaw confirmed his suspicion.

"What the fuck are you, you freak?!" The other man cried, looking both horrified and furious as he hovered a trembling hand over the knife in his ear, too afraid to move it. His leg was twisted at an odd angle, broken. Constantine didn't mean to break it. "You're a damn feral."

The one with the broken jaw groaned in pain and Constantine just stood there motionlessly for a moment, thinking.

"I am not a feral." He finally said deciding to end the guy's misery, the one with the broken jaw, wondering what oddity he was turning into.

There's no question that he was an anomaly among other lycans, but he still didn't know to what extent.

Experimentally, he grabbed the guy's head and decided to bash it against the cold hard ground beneath them. The blood splatter didn't bother him as he did it again, and again in a focused repetitive manner before he finally heard the rhythm of the man's heart stutter and grow fainter.