becoming hers

🏹 A M O U R A 🏹

WE ARE HUNTERS OF THE NIGHT. We were made to protect angels, created from stardust. We were meant to guard the heavens, to be with our masters that loved us.

But, we were naive to think they loved us as we loved them.

I could hear them, whispering about us in the gardens. I could hear the giggles of women dressed in gold silk. I can hear what they call us.

Monsters. Beasts. Dogs.

But, we loved them. Served them relentlessly.

We adored the way they talked, walked, breathed.

My master was an angel with eyes so deep, I could lose myself in them. She would kiss me behind closed doors. Dressing my body in the same golden silk, but only in the confines of her bedroom. She loves me. She loves me the most out of them all. She loves me.

"Amoura," Her voice is made of harp strings, "Come here."

She used my body to accommodate her needs and I gave her myself willingly. She kissed my body, her pale fingers tracing over the markings on my tanned skin.

She would sink her teeth into my thighs, her poison paralyzing me. I love her, she loves me, I love her.

Then, the pain would start.

A mantra inside my head; she loves me, loves me, loves me.

I confused her lust for love. Her sweet words manipulating my young mind. Her breath fanned across my face and she would pepper my skin in kisses. She never loved me.

She lusted after me.

And, foolishly I let her ruin me.

I loved her.

But, I was nothing but a plaything that she discarded in public.

I can hear them, in the gardens, I can hear her. I can hear her disgust for me. I can hear the malice in her voice. My heart began to pound in my chest and a sob wretched out of my chest.

She doesn't love me.

Another hellhound was brought into the garden, a familiar smell. She smelled like the sea.

My master's voice rung out, in a sneer, she brought a whip onto the hound's back. Metallic flooded my nose and hounds started to howl. I rushed out to save her, my fellow hound, my family.

Her golden eyes were begging them to stop, but to no avail. Pushing past them, I ripped the whip out of Master's hands.

Her pale blue eyes bored into mine and I could finally see it.

The disgust.

The hatred.

The malice.

"Saving your little bitch, eh?" Harp strings were ripping and her voice wasn't as sweet. Wasn't as melodious. It screeched and imprinted inside my heart. My veins were screaming with the poison she struck into me.

My body was fighting against the blind pull she had against me.

"Well," She continued, "You can get whipped alongside her."

But, then my family appeared. My fellow hounds howled louder.

And a war had began.