Bathed In Crimson

"Don't kill me, please!" The omega pack wolf knelt on the blood soaked ground and begged. "I have a wife and three little babies! Kill me instead but please spare them."

The Lycan wolf tsked mockingly, "Too late, omega. I already killed your wife and babies. There, look at their bodies."

He pointed to a huge heap of torn and mangled bodies.

A little dismembered arm peeked out from the mess.

He was whimpering and shaking his head vigorously, "No, no."

In one clean move the lycan werewolf pulled his beating heart out, "And now you are dead too." 

Blood dripped from his claws as the Lycan growled and scanned the forest for his next victim. 

Carcasses of that night's victims were littered everywhere in the forest.

One thing about this particular werewolf's victims: They were innocent. 

They had to be innocent. Women and babies especially.

He was just cursed that way and he couldn't help it no matter how hard he tried.

Except this one woman. The woman his wolf was really searching to kill. She wasn't innocent.

In fact, she is the reason why he was like this. A proud and powerful Lycan King turned to a cursed animal roaming through the woods.

His wolf, Warrick, was different from most. He was a Lycan. Intelligent, passionate and uncontrollable.

His fur was as black as night, and his eyes were red as blood.

He had only loved one mate in his one hundred and twenty-seven years of existence and even a hundred years later after her death, Warrick still loved her deeply.

Whenever Warrick loved, he loved recklessly without abandon.

But whenever he hated, his hatred was not just a danger to anything in its path, it was a threat even to his own master, the Cursed Lycan King, Alpha Zane - his wolf did whatever he pleased, including controlling the king himself.

Like he said before, they were cursed that way.

The full moon hung low in the sky, its silver light casting long, eerie shadows across the lake that led directly from the forest to his own castle.

"Warrick, I have a city to rule. I need to go back."

Warrick ignored him.

"Warrick, what if our mate has been reborn? We need to find her now before someone else claims her."

Warrick growled dangerously. Low and guttural.

"You have been saying this for fifty years, Zane. Stop!"

"You are supposed to lay dormant, Zane. Instead of making a stupid fuss in my head."

"Think about the hundreds of wolves like you without a leader. Let's go back. You don't know how tired I am of this. I can't control you but try to control yourself."

Warrick kept quiet. But Alpha Zane knew what his answer was.

He couldn't control himself and he couldn't go back. At least not yet.

He needed to satisfy his bloodthirst first. And that could go on for nights on end. The last time, Warrick went on for two weeks straight.

Only the Moon Mother knows how long he plans to go this time.

The air was thick with the scent of blood and death, and the only sound was the crunch of leaves as the Lycan moved in the darkness, the earth shaking under his feet with each step.

His ears pricked up at a sound to his right and he stood still, listening.

"That's amazing, Rue, what are you doing to celebrate? We should go out tomorrow night!"

"I know but I'm sorry, Ari, but I think I should go out with Daniel tomorrow night. He has been so supportive."

"I knew the day would come that you would abandon me but it's fine. Go easy on him."

"Oh shut up. But remind me…why are we taking this route back home again? It is creeping me out. I feel like someone is watching us."

"Come on, Rue, don't be such a chicken. No one is watching us. You know that this is the only way that people won't see us.You know my father will kill me if he finds out that I went out tonight."

"Don't be so drama–" Her words dried in her mouth as she looked up.

Warrick had stepped in their path and now stalked elegantly towards them.

"You should believe your friend more, Ari. But sadly, there won't be a next time." He flashed his fangs in the dying moonlight.

The darkness that always enveloped the werewolf almost danced as it began to swell and grow, swallowing up the bright moonlight like a hungry beast.

Two more victims. And women too. This night was getting more fun for Warrick.

Alpha Zane had given up on trying to stop his wolf.

This werewolf was driven by a single desire.

Revenge.

He knows that he must find his reborn mate to break his curse but first of all, he was going to find the witch.

The more he killed, the closer he got to finding her.

And when he found her, he was going to make her pay with her life.

You really need to look at yourself right now, Warrick. You look absolutely fucking pathetic."

"Need I remind you that I'm not the only cursed one here?"

"Need I also remind you that I haven't washed in days because you'd rather drown in the blood of women and babies?"

"You like doing this." Warrick said flatly.

"Yes, I like doing this, idiot. At least I fucking take responsibility for the killings and what do you do? You hide back in my body like the coward you are. My body is nothing more than a shell to you." Alpha Zane's voice only got louder in Warrick's head.

Warrick kept stalking around the more dense part of the forest and did everything but react to anything Alpha Zane said.

Warrick counted down twenty beats and–

"I'm sorry, Warrick. I just… I hate this. I hate that I can't help it. I hate that I hate you for this. I hate myself for not finding this witch. And most of all, I deeply hate that I still cling to some vague hope that Adalia would somehow, someday be rebirthed."

The silence from Warrick felt louder than the crows cawing frenziedly in the pitch black night.

"I hate that I still wait for her."

"You want to give up." Warrick's voice sounded dangerously low.

Alpha Zane was silent.

Warrick jumped off a small rock and crouched close to an oak, listening for the sound of footsteps. 

Ah, another woman.

He scanned the area with his eyes. This was a graveyard.

"Yes." Alpha Zane whispered as Warrick hunted his new prey.

"I want to give up."

Warrick sprung up with lightening speed, claws raised as he charged at the innocent woman kneeling at her husband's grave.