Where Anyone is Possible
Devorabit Aut Devorandum
Devour or be devoured. It was drilled into us all. I remember when Max and Kaela had joined the Black Guard. It was an honour for them and myself, Vermilion and Nicholas could not wait for our entrance. Even after the change I saw in Kaela, I still wanted to. Neither she nor Max were ever the same after joining that group and I learned why when my time came. We were the elite, the best of the best. Yet, they wanted to make us better still and with improvement comes pain. Misery. Agony. None of us talk about it, even to each other. It happened, it is done, you move onward. Only cowards stay in the past and they perish under the weight of their misery and self pity. The Black Guard carries on, becomes more then what we once were. We revel in the pain, enjoy the agony and reap the rewards.
At the height of our service, there were none better then us. Vermilion and I had the assassinations and we were damn good at it. Slip in, kill, slip out. Unseen, undetected and never noticed. We did our jobs better then any other, save Max perhaps, a sniper who could perhaps best any other. I had not the interest in the distance. If I would kill it would be up close and personal. I would see the life pass from their eyes, I would watch my poison seep into them. I would crouch beside them as they fell, reaching for me, begging with their eyes to save them from the pain to spare them this death. I would remain silence and stoic. I would watch them pass from this life to whatever awaited them on the other side, uncaring and cold. They were nothing to me.
There was once. A cold night strangely. My task had been simple. Slip in, assassinate the female and leave no trace. Simple. I had done it many times before. So I was not concerned. She, of course, had guards but they would be easy enough to slip past. I took my time with this one. I plotted, met her in passing. I discovered that I did have some charm, some skill with drawing her to me. I learned then that flirting kept them from looking too far past the exterior. I seduced her of course. Made my entrance into her home so much easier. They two guards she had on her doors disliked me from the moment I entered but she would not heed them. I dared to smirk at them as I entered her chamber. She slipped away a moment, to change and I paced her room.
I made note of all the small trinkets she owned, needless things, worthless. The huge bed of silk and satins, of pillows and comfort that made one weak. I grew angry at her for a reason I could not even explain to myself. I could hear myself growl as I paced, my hands clenching at my sides. She came back into the room, from behind me and I forced myself to calm. She was a target, she would die soon. As I turned, she made my job easier and put herself into my arms. I stroked her back as she kissed me, deeply and with far more tongue then I had expected. A moment later, she bit my lip, hard. A strangled growl coming from my own throat surprised me. I broke the kiss and licked my lip, tasting blood and I smirked at her. I grabbed her jaw, forcing her mouth open to see she had indeed ingested a small amount of my tainted blood.
I shoved her from me, laughing since I would need not do a thing now, she had killed herself. She called my name, the false name I had been using and I turned in time to catch an empty vial. I wondered if it could be what I thought. Certainly she could not know. However, it seemed she did indeed know of my poison and had currently enough antivenom to perhaps spare her. It was then I realized I had been her target all along. A moment later she rushed me, a blade cutting across my chest even as I leaped back. The kiss of the blade made me growl deep in my throat. It was not nearly enough pain to stop me. I leaped at her as she attempted to retreat and felt that long blade slide deep into my chest. This time I did groan, shuddering with pleasure of feeling that metal push deep into my skin.
I kept my hands on her shoulders, riding her to the floor and pinning her there. I look down to see the blade only buried about half way before lifting my eyes to hers. I caught a glimpse of fear. It seemed she had not known me as well as she should have. I grinned before pushing myself fully onto the knife, taking he last six inches with a moan. My eyes are closed before it is all the way, my blood oozing from around the weapon. I open my eyes to watch it drip onto her hand, her white dress, singing her skin already. I lean down and kiss her hard, blood filling my mouth as I realize she had punctured a lung. She coughs and chokes, trying to expel my blood from her mouth but, I give her no choice but to swallow it, deepening the kiss. I watch her eyes as they widen in shock and fear. The pupils growing larger as my poison filled her veins. Yes she had the antivenom in her system but it was not near enough. Not even close.
I lay atop her, staring into her hazel eyes as the pain filled them. She writhed beneath me, fighting to get away from me and her flailing hands ripped the blade higher, tearing open my chest. I screamed in pleasure, back arching as my eyes closed. Such sweet agony, such delicious pain. I realized then that she had known what I was for the blade was silver. I chuckled softly, knowing this wound would likely leave a scar and would heal so very slow, extending my pleasure for days. Every touch on this wound would send shivers down my spine. I watch my hot blood rush over her now, soaking that pretty white dress crimson. It was only then that I saw I had missed her death due to my pleasure. I kissed her lips before rising slowly, easing that long knife from my skin, trembling and shaking as I sought to contain myself. I was to leave no traces behind. I frown at my blood covering her. Unacceptable.
Before I could even decide what to do, the door was thrown open and the two guards stood in shock at the scene before them. I lay on my side, running my fingers over the gaping wound in my chest that was still bleeding before licking my fingers clean. I, of course, gave them a devilish wink which I believe is what goaded them to rush into the room, swords drawn. I changed my position slightly, getting to my knees before I leaped forward, shifting to full Lycan form with but a thought. I slammed into one, dropping him to his back even as he stabbed me. Once, twice, thrice that petty little blade bit into my skin. Three howls of pleasure were his reward before I tore out his throat. The second was more cautious and stared with wide eyes as he sought an opening. I would not allow him one.
I slide from his friend, licking my teeth clean of his flesh and blood, crouching beside the still warm body. I tore open his stomach, my cold blue eyes on the living. I ripped out organs, chewing them once maybe twice before swallowing. I made a meal of his friend as he watched, too scared to even move, to think of attacking me. Once I reached the heart, I took my time with that one. Eating slowly, savouring the taste before I rose once more, facing him down. I now stood between him and the only door. They only way to live was to get past me. I wait for his move.
It is faster then I had expected, his rush to get past me. Yet it still only takes a swipe of a paw to drop him. He screamed, terrified panicked cries to be saved. One paw slapping his face shut him up and he actually reacted and once more I felt a blade pierce my hide. I snarled, eyes rolling slightly as he pulled the sword out. I shuddered, unable to help the pleasure that sung through me. And so, we danced. I swatted lightly at him, playfully though he did not notice and he ran that cold blade through me, once nearly catching my heart. I grasped his shoulders, pushing myself fully onto it as I cried in pleasure, already shifting back to homid form. I laughed in his face at his surprise before I kissed him hard and deep. I forced my tongue into his mouth, letting my blood spill past his lips, flood his throat and pour like fire down to his stomach. He convulsed, the sword being jerked and moved inside my chest and I groaned, my knees giving way from the pleasure my kill is gifting me with before he would perish as all the others.
Later, I would open my eyes, finding myself bathed in blood and gore, three bodies of various points of mutilation before me. I stretch, feeling the wounds pull wide open again, tearing a deep moan from me. I chuckle at myself and rise, deciding none were worrisome. They would all heal, as always. I whistle as I leave the room. I pull the small device from my pocket and set it in the wall as I leave the house. I am walking down the street as I hear the explosion. No trace left behind.
So, did the Black Guard make me what I am Or was that simply my own doing? I would like to believe I am Master of my own Fate. Unless, I get caught.