Descent

I–He Who Does Not Forget     ALASTOR NYX:     Zeus must be having one of his infamous fits tonight, was what Alastor was thinking with a thin smirk on his face as he watched the rain pounding mercilessly around them, turning the open field dirty with mud and blood as his bare feet tore through the wet ground like a speedy bullet without missing a beat while thunder continued to roar overhead, the dark skies being illuminated by lightning from time to time.   The first night of September was marked as their annual ‘friendly’ game against the other werewolf packs and Alastor Nyx–like any other year–had only one goal in mind for tonight… and that was to win.   Alastor almost felt... well, for once, not numb.   And that

III–Proserpina     ALASTOR NYX:     Finally, Harry aimed a kick to his back but Alastor, as though already sensing it, suddenly dodged out of the way, causing Harry to trip on his own two feet, gracelessly flailing his arms about as he fell face-first to the muddy ground with a high-pitched, indignant shriek.   “What the hell's wrong with you?” Harry demanded, spitting out filth.   “I could ask you the same thing,” Sean retorted, helping Alastor stand up, “...you did try to kick our own alpha.”   Between labored breaths, Alastor clumsily got on his own two feet and embarrassingly, with Sean's help, his legs trembling a bit as he ignored anything and everyone around him but the one simple fact that he just found his m

V–Would it be a sin?     ALASTOR NYX:     “I believe I've earned the right to be in your company–as well a kiss from you,” Alastor declared triumphantly, the more-or-less dumbfounded expression Winters was wearing making him grin.   He had a feeling that his mate wasn't someone so easily shocked–especially being a goddess of the underworld–which was a bonus. There was just something so endearing with the way those obsidian eyes widened at him–shocked, concerned, impressed, flattered–her gaze darting from him, his wound, then at her discarded dagger rapidly, looking like she was asking for her weapon to magically return to her.   Oh, but she just looked so freaking&

VII – Scarred     “I'm a patient man. I could play this game for all of eternity, my love,” the King of Vampires reminded her, his voice deceptively gentle it was so condescending as he easily bent her in half, leaning over just far enough to drag his sharp teeth across her already bruised skin, almost teasingly, “...however, I will not stand for such disrespect–especially from you.”   Her breath caught somewhere between her lungs and her throat as her skin prickled under the scrutiny of his fanged mouth for the nth time.   “Well?”     (She didn't want this.   She didn't want this.   She didn't want any of this–)     Somewhere far away, a quiet voice answered for her:

IX – Of Half-bloods and half-answers     ALASTOR NYX:     It was kind of a surreal moment for Alastor, being in a hotel room with two of his closest and oldest friends having a video call (of all things) with a demigod turned monster-hunter–who should have been dead ten years ago–at least an hour after the mysterious mercenary's short call.   The demigod who called himself ‘Nick’ looked like a regular mortal man at first glance. If one would have spotted the demigod somewhere in a crowd, they would have initially thought of him as one of those young college professors–or a lawyer with his well-put demeanor or maybe it was just the glasses that made him look like a classy nerd in Alastor’s opinion.   Nick just had that smart, calculating look in his unnervingly bright, silv