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Chapter 125: _ Let Them Die!
Fergus, wanting nothing more than to sink his fangs into Cullen’s smug face, forced another playful smile. "Oh, really? Sounds scary. But you might not live to see that day, Cullen."
He then created a diversion for Cullen. "You seem a little... unsteady on your feet. Maybe you should lay off the... whatever it is you’re on."
Cullen’s seemed confused, his eyes widening in shock. He turned to his legs to see if he indeed was stepping on something and found that he wasn’t. Hence, he turned back to Fergus but before he could retort, Fergus, with lightning speed, pushed him back with a single, well-placed shove.
Cullen, who was completely unaware of the monstrous strength he was up against, went sprawling backward like a domino toppling over, landing with a comical yelp that echoed through the room.
Fergus couldn’t help himself. A fit of laughter that was loud and unrestrained, bubbled up from his chest. He doubled over, clutching his stomach with tears welling up in his eyes. It was just too perfect.
Here he was, a powerful ancient vampire hiding in the body of a small child, being threatened by a delusional, weak excuse for a werewolf.
The irony was delicious.
Cullen, who was now red-faced and sputtering, scrambled to his feet.
"Why, you...!"
He lunged towards Fergus, ready to strike, but before he could reach him, a bloodcurdling scream roared in the night air. It was a woman’s voice begging for help.
It was a sound Fergus loved. Something bad was happening. Ah– the delicious scent of blood was in the air.
The first scream was followed by another, then another– all music to Fergus’s ears. And then, the sounds of banging on doors and struggles reverberated from every direction in the pack.
He watched Cullen freeze, forgetting about attacking him. "What’s that?" He asked with an urgency that was blending into fear.
"Why don’t you come closer and ask?" Fergus snarled at him, but he guessed he probably looked pathetic instead of intimidating in Liam’s body.
Cullen hissed, definitely taking Fergus’s threat as an empty one. "Kids!" He groaned and strolled to the window where he cautiously peeked through the curtains to check the situation of things outside.
Fergus crossed his hands in front of him, hoping the situation was bad. Very very bad.
When Cullen’s eyes widened with a fear Fergus found utterly delicious and he scrambled towards Fergus, he knew the situation was as bad as he wanted.
Beautiful!
Fascinating!
Pleasurable!
Ah– VIOLENCE!
"Liam! Help me barricade the door!" Cullen practically shoved Fergus towards the furniture, his voice filled with a fear that warmed Fergus’s dark heart.
Fergus, remained rooted to the spot as a cruel smile played on his lips. Cullen’s terror was music to his ears. "What’s happening?" he asked in a sickeningly sweet voice, feigning cluelessness.
Cullen lunged for him, his eyes wild. "Don’t be dumb, you little—! We need to block the damn door! Do you hear them? They’re coming for us!"
Fergus simply shrugged, twisting his lips. "Maybe they’re just having a party next door, huh? Sounds like fun."
Cullen’s face was transformed into a mixture of fear and fury while beads of sweat dropped on his face in numbers. "This isn’t a game, Liam! We’re in danger! Now come here and help me!"
Help him?
Pfft. He’d turn human before helping the douchebag out. Fergus was moved towards the room, his steps light and unhurried like a bride being led to the aisle. He wanted Cullen to see it, to wonder who among both of them was scared now.
He threw a glance back at Cullen, his eyes gleaming with a predatory light that would have sent shivers down the spine of anyone who could see it. "Don’t worry, big guy," he said, his voice dripping with a sarcastic sympathy. "I’m sure you can handle a little door on your own."
"Liam! Get back here, you little brat!" Cullen roared, his earlier nonchalance now replaced by a fear that resonated with a morbid satisfaction within Fergus.
Serves the punk right. Be careful who you threaten.
Fergus simply pushed open the door of the room, shutting it with a gentle click that seemed deafening in the escalating chaos outside. Through the thin walls, he could hear Cullen’s increasingly agitated calls, disrupted by curses aimed at his supposed obliviousness.
’Pathetic wolf,’ Fergus thought as a cruel smile twisted his lips even though Cullen couldn’t see it. ’So quick to crumble when the tables are turned.’
He wasn’t interested in pointless barricades. He craved the crescendos of screams, the metallic zing of blood that mingled with the acrid scent of raw fear. He craved the hunt.
He was hungry and his people were working.
Pulling the window open with so much bravado, he was greeted by a scene straight out of his darkest nightmares – or rather, his most delicious dreams.
Chaos reigned supreme below. The streets, roads, name it. Everywhere that was usually bustling with life during the day and dead quiet at night was now a battleground.
Vampires, with their faces writhed in bloodlust, tore into panicked wolves. The air was filled with the sounds of screams, snarls, and the sickening thud of flesh meeting flesh.
Fergus’s heart began to thump in a happy dance, matching the sound of the violence. He leaned out the window, his breath seizing at the intoxicating scent of blood that hung heavy in the air.
Never had he seen something more beautiful. This was beyond perfection!
It was metallic, thick, and strangely sweet. It was a potent aphrodisiac to his senses!
He spread his hands wide, his palms facing the sky, and let the scent wash over him. It filled his lungs, seeped into his very being, and ignited a fire in his gut.
"Perfecto." He whispered as the scent of death filled the air.
He remembered Cherul. Yes, let Cherul’a blood be avenged with hundreds of wolves. Yes, let them all die.
Let them cry out in PAIN!
Just then, his stomach reminded him that it needed a refill. Hunger and a ferocious need, roared through him. He could taste it on his tongue – the coppery tang of blood, the essence of life being ripped away.
He wanted it. He yearned for it. He needed it.
The urge to join the fight was overwhelming. He could no longer bear to be a spectator. With a feral snarl ripping from his throat, he climbed onto the window ledge, his form moving with an unnatural agility that misrepresented his childish façade.
