Tributes

Chapter Forty Eight

Tyreol stalked into the tribute room. Anger rolled around him, ready to bite at the first thing that invoked it. The castle shook with it, dampening the air with heavy dread. Blood would be spilling freely somewhere, a campaign taking a particularly brutal battle with the victors being those who worshipped Tyreol. Betrayal stung, as hypocritical as it may be in this situation. The desire to bite, to rip and tear bubbled close to the surface. If Luke tried to leave again, Tyreol wouldn't hold it back.

He looked around the room with the eye of a predator. Taking note that his orders had been obeyed and each of his mortal tributes was in the room. The immortal dared to meet his eyes. Tyreol snarled, and the eyes lowered.

"Master?" the most loyal of all souls asked, half-crouched in front of the danger in the mix. One of his mortal tributes curled next to the one who brought a potential threat to his den.

The scent of the child's fear was revolting, but Tyreol couldn't fix that right now. He needed to calm down and recover his humanity before reassuring the thing. Like this, there was no promise he could make. He could barely talk. A question hovered around them all, but the words were difficult to force out. Growls and barks were far easier like this. A shame none of them would understand them.

"I have Luke."

"Does he need tending to?" Did you injure him in your anger?

A sensible question with how Tyreol was in this moment. One that stung in its own way, even his most loyal thought Tyreol was capable of tearing apart something so precious to him without giving it a chance to redeem itself. Sadly the fact was, the more primal he got, the less predictable he was and the more damage he could do. Fur was prickling up his arms and legs under his clothes. His loyal one would see that even if the mortals did not.

"No," Tyreol shook his head. His mane of hair moved over with his head, but the movement was not entirely human. His wolf was too close to the surface. The pups were safe, the older ones in more danger. He'd never hurt his pups, even the ones on the edge of becoming adults. They were his. "He. I." He swallowed and focused on the most loyal one. Drawing the words up from the ground as his instincts said to whine and snap at the immortal. They said to move forwards, pull his pup from the danger's lap and sleep in a pile of blankets and fur, guarding against any more trouble. "I was in control then." Right now, not so much.

"Ok. That's good, Master," the green-haired man smiled at him. It wasn't a strong smile, but it reassured Tyreol. This would be ok when he was better again. The loyal one wasn't horrified or scared like the others. He could trust the faithful one was to indicate how bad this was. "May the pups sleep in their beds tonight?"

Rejection snapped in his chest. He wanted them all close where he could snuggle and hug them. He huffed, but if the loyal one was asking for that, it must be better for them to do so. "Yes." He looked at his youngest two. They were half-hidden behind the oldest one of the mortals, less fearful than the one in the danger's lap but not unaffected. "Own rooms, fine. Everyone." There was no point restricting the older ones from enjoying their beds. No one was going to try to escape, not while he was like this. If they were, they deserved whatever his wolf unleashed upon them.

His claws were out. The littles were staring at them. Tyreol checked, and there was no blood on them. They were just sharp, very sharp. He wriggled them. One stepped forward, but the other held him back. Curious little things, pups were. Luke had been shy. All giggles and snuggles as he danced around Tyreol's feet. The giggles had faded but not the snuggles, just they often came with something more adult now. Or did. Pain burned in his chest. He'd lost that now, Tyreol was sure of it.