And Youâre to Blame | F&R
@viciousvisage
âStay with me, Kitten⌠stay with me.â
Heartbeat punching at his ribs like a mallet to concrete, he could feel the fissures spread with every impact. It went against every instinct to run. She was hurt. They had hurt her. She was his and they had hurt her, and they had to pay. He had to kill them. His mouth was dry and the only thing that would gratify his demanding need for vengeance was the taste of their blood, the sound of their screams, their slow and painful deaths.Â
But he couldnât stop. Fenrir ran faster than heâd ever run, bounding between trees, dodging low hanging branches, legs eating up miles at a time, and he couldnât stop. Not when he could feel her heartbeat slowing as his sprinted faster than his feet were carrying him through the forest. Fenrir knew that if he satisfied that need to dismember the deadmen whoâd hurt her, he could lose her.Â
âIâm here. I got you. Just stay with me.â
Heart racing so fast he could feel its throttle in his throat, could hear it in his ears, louder than his breathing, louder than roaring, primordial instinct, Fenrir knew only one thing. He couldnât lose her. He couldnât fucking lose her.Â
âYouâre going to be okay, Kitten. Do you hear me? Look at me. Youâre going to be okay.â
His whole life had been shit, and violence, and death since the moment he was turned. Every day had been a fight for survival, to be whatever kind of monster he had to be to live, to never be the victim but a hunter to the very end. He was the apex predator he was today because he had suffered, and bled, and endured until he was strong enough to obliterate every threat that had gotten in his way.Â
âLook at me. Just look at me. Donât you dare close your eyes. Do you hear me, Arielle. Fucking look at me.â
Until her. Until this little kitten of a witch had marched into his life and demanded his help with a reckless kind of bravery that had gotten plenty of people killed before her. She came into his life like the sun dawning after a brutal, deadly winter, and for the first time in his life he had felt its warmth. Her warmth. And she was dying in his arms.Â
âHang on. Just a little longer, Kitten. Stay with me.â
Another bestial roar thundered from his chest and his pace redoubled. He imagined familiar marble floors, gilded paintings, busts of old wizards on granite pedestals. Fenrir clawed for the one place he knew was safe, where he knew someone would be able to help her, that belonged to the only thing resembling family heâd ever known. Not slowing his pace, a bodiless hook snagged around his middle and yanked, and Fenrir stumbled, still running, through the Lestrange foyer, ageless ceramic crashing as he skid to a stop.
Clutching Arielleâs limp body to his chest, he roared into the manse, âROD. HELP ME.â He stared down at her tiny form in his arms and let loose a pained sound heâd never heard himself make. âPleaseâŚâ
















