Luceran's POV
Her being, her existence, the words that leave her mouth—everything about her pisses me off. I know dark witches try to play bold in the eyes of death, but this one was too daring, even when I looked like someone who would twist her neck without a rethought.
And those opalescent eyes, shifting colors between silver, blue, and violet… If only I could sink an arrow deep into them so she would never again have the audacity to stare back, making them look so damn luring. If I could kill this one too, I swear I would. But I had the power I needed, I had the throne, and I am cursed. How can another curse be the cure? Why does something rotten and ashen smell like hope—like nightshade in bloom?
Can I end this extra curse brought upon me? I am too selfish to do that. The curse lives, so my curse goes.
"We could find another way to get rid of the curse, you would definitely find another," Veloria, the queen of the white witches, said beside me. "What if there were others behind this, or she had actually cast a spell to make it feel like it, so you won't end her? Everyone knows the st—"
"I have lived a thousand years to know what a spell feels like, Veloria…" It was the same feeling when I met her *My first mate*. But this, even in the state of being rogue, I could remember the sanity rushing back into me, the feeling of fire and ice rushing through my lungs—like every beat and breath of hers belonged to me. My wolf had claimed her, my curse submitting to its new controller, and I hate every ounce of it.
It's just been hours, and my beast already wants to tear at everything for locking her in that cage earlier. I was meant to end everyone belonging to her clan—why did the moon goddess decide to take it this way?
"She's a ticking time bomb, they have a lot of craft under their sleeves, Luceran. No one would accept this. We have curbed the feral side of your curse severally, and we can manage without her. You swore to end this, and this is a test if you'd stick to your promise."
I stared at 'Blight' on the bed. "You know what happens if we find the cure and let it go."
"You'd lose your sanity. And if you let her stay, you bring distraction upon us and fall in love with a… with… a… " she paused like it was an omen to complete that "Are you ready to love a woman, Luceran? A dark witch at that. This isn't fiction. How do you even get her to love you?"
And I had gone into a deeper thinking.
"Who said I had to fall in love with her? I don't need her love. I need her obedience."
What if she becomes docile? I had made even the strongest of creatures bow to my feet. I'd make her bow—until the curse goes. I had seen what love looks like. It was just two dumb people chained to each other's ruins.
"You can't cage fire, it burns. If she resists, she'll destroy you, and if she bends…it's your ruin."
"Quench the fire," I said, turning to meet the aged witch's face. I watched her facial expression change as she understood what I had just said.
"Lu… Luceran, yo… you want me to take her powers?" Her voice dropped, like there were truly ears in the walls.
"I want her stripped of every ounce of it. She doesn't get to chant spells. If she is to be my cure, she will have nothing—no power to fight back." If I could even make her mute, I would happily drive a knife down her throat. But this should be enough evil for the day. And now her words seem right—my darkness is neither true nor pure, it's a pit full of lies, gore, and selfishness.
"Luceran, I can't!"
And I hate that. I hate opposition. I hate disobedience.
"Luceran, get some sense into you…" Her voice quaked as she tried to walk away from me.
"You leave, and the white witches can suffer the same fate as your dark sisters."
"Luceran, you don't know the consequences of that—it's mutilation…"
"Why do you care? She's my mate, I should make decisions for her!"
I was in Veloria's face, my eyes burning with an intensity like never before. I could see the sweat trickling down her face, her body trembling as she tried to keep her voice straight.
"She may live, but she will not be whole. And a witch brutally deprived of her power is far more dangerous than one with power. You saw the wound she inflicted on you—it didn't heal quickly. Isn't that strange? She has your life with her… she'll be driven by hate, and she'll end you."
I scoffed after letting her finish with fast breaths.
"I'll get more Ashthorn venom so she won't be a problem when you begin the ritual."
"For god's sake, Luceran!"
I left the room, slamming the door shut, anger bleeding through my veins as I walked into the corridor leading to my chamber in the palace. The door pulled open as I stepped in, the scent of perfumes and female moans flooding the chamber.
Sex and power made me, and in every room there must be women to quench that for me. The curse surely did make me like this. I never cared about a woman before I met the reason for my curse… Seems all the women who should be important to me are nothing but pests to haunt me.
A thousand fucks to the moon goddess.
I walked up to the two women pleasuring themselves on the chamber's bed. "Your majesty."
They both crawled up to me as I stood before the chamber, their perky tits begging for attention as one reached for my belt. Another hand slid across my shoulder from behind, the scent of sex growing thicker.
And maybe this time I never wanted any of it. "Get out." I slapped the hand which was on my belt off, and they had sensed the wrath in my voice as they all scattered like rats leaving me to the silence I think I deserve.
I pooped the button of my shirt as I walked towards the mirror after I got bare chested, staring at what seems like a tattoo, which is not but an evidence of a curse…A living tattoo in the shape of tendrils black and purple curling around my heart like a serpent.
I watched as it moved in sync with every beat of my heart, if I ever let the tendrils get even more close to my heart…if I could let it consume me fully, then my heart dies, every inch of emotion dies with it the I'd go feral, caged in my lycan form forever.