Hunger
- Reads 282
- Votes 14
- Parts 8
Hunger. His stomach ached with pure hunger. His lips bled. His hands were nearly frozen shut by the freezing air around him. He couldn't move them if he tried.
He could smell blood. Fresh circulating blood.
The booze that had stained his breath had done little to numb the agony that tore at his lungs. The snow around him had reached his knees and its soaking-wet weight clung to his trousers like chains. His mind felt dreary, filled with a dull roar as he trenched closer and closer to the raw scent, closer to the pinprick of light that shone against the thick forest trees. It swam a little in front of him through tear-soaked eyes and he fought the urge to cough from his cotton-dry mouth. He licked at his cracked lips and continued to stumble through the snow.
He couldn't feast, not tonight. But he could possibly find a distraction or two.
A very delicious distraction.
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"She forgot who she belongs to. She forgot her duty. Tonight, she will remember." Then his teeth sank into my mark. A white-hot bolt of pain tore through me, ripping a cry from my throat. The bond flared violently, not with the warmth of connection but with raw, punishing dominance. He bit down again, harder, his growl vibrating through my bones. I sobbed, clutching at his arm, but he didn't relent. Each strike of his fangs was a reminder, a claim, a warning branded into my flesh. Around us, a few from the pack wept-some openly, some in silence-but none dared step forward. Ezekiel's chest rose and fell in ragged breaths, his teeth bared, my blood streaking his lips. His golden eye burned down at me, furious and unrelenting, his hand still anchoring me upright though my legs trembled. "If this is what it takes," he snarled, his voice carrying across the silent village, "then I will do it every night. Every dawn. Until there is no doubt in you, no hesitation left. I will mark you again and again until your body remembers who you belong to."
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