Chapter 35

“Russel!”

He heard the shout and knew it was Lola calling out for him. He didn’t want to look up at her though. Didn’t want her to see the pain in his eyes and his utter lack of hope. He knew winning this fight against his father was a long shot. Hell, not even a long shot. More like a never going to happen. Carter Polver was over three centuries old and had taken on much worse opponents than himself and ones that had been a hell of a lot stronger. He’d taken down vampires, ghouls, oni, other were-shifters, and even a demi-goddess. Russel was strong but he wasn’t taking down a godlike being strong. The best he was hoping for was to stall his father and brothers and maybe give Lola a chance, however small, to get away.

His eyes rolled toward her and a burst of despair swept through him. She was being restrained now and he knew the two holding on to her would never let her get away. They were too well-trained for that.

There truly was no hope now.

Once his father finished toying with him, he was going to rip Russel’s heart out. This was the end for him and for Lola.

Despite knowing that deep down to the very core of his being, he still kept going. Still fought. After having both wrists broken, his father let him go and he stumbled back. The bones were already starting to pull back together and heal themselves but any tiny bit of movement made them burst into pain.

Carter didn’t let up or give Russel any avenue to escape, catch his breath, or get a little bit of time to heal up. Instead, he advanced. He brought his right hand up and swept it downward in a vicious slash that would have split Russel’s face open.

If he’d been in the way.

Russel saw it coming and managed, at the last second, to dodge and get out of the way. Mostly, this was accomplished by an awkward looking dodge that ended in a hard-to-look-at backward tumble/roll across the floor. It was an ugly looking thing to witness but it kept him out of harm’s way for the moment. It also bought him a little more time. The healing in his wrists was almost finished. He could actually roll them around a little, which was good. Another minute, maybe two, and he would be back in fighting shape.

Carter didn’t want to give his son that chance. His slashes, punches, and attempts to grapple with Russel got a lot faster and more strategic. They weren’t attacks made in haste or blind anger. They were measured. Calculated. It was like the man was playing chess with an opponent that wasn’t quite up to par.

“Come on, boy!” Carter yelled, laughing like a lunatic. “Quit being a coward and fight! What’s the matter? Are the stakes not high enough for you? Do you need even more motivation?”

A blow finally connected with Russel that sent him spinning to the ground. He let out a grunt of pain but it wasn’t enough for Carter.

Not nearly enough.

The smell of blood. The scent of fear wafting off the human. The pungent, tangy smell of adrenaline. All of these whirled together and stoked the fires of Carter’s bloodlust. What was once a simmering, steady flame he kept careful control over was now a raging inferno. He needed more. More blood. More death. More hunting.

“Get up!”

Russel struggled to his feet, one arm covered in blood. His face and neck were also covered in blood. He was breathing heavily too and his wounds, Carter noticed with some sick pleasure, weren’t healing quite as fast. The fatigue setting into Russel’s body was taking its toll, making the regeneration process take that much longer.

“Just stop! Okay? Let him go. He’ll stop fighting. We’ll both stop fighting. I’ll do whatever the fuck you want! Kill me! I don’t care, just leave him alone!”

Lola’s face was red from shouting and crying. Russel’s brothers were all looking at her, pointing and mocking the dumb human pet for exhibiting so much emotion toward Russel.

“Look at that pet of yours, son,” Carter taunted. “All blubbery and crying. All for you. What did you do to inspire such loyalty? Huh? Was just giving her a good fuck enough? Or did she need a little more? Something extra special?”

The hopeless despair Russel had felt before gave way under a raging torrent of anger. Blind, all-consuming fury.

“Shut…,” he said with a gasp. “Your…Fucking…Mouth!”

With a roar of challenge, he got off the ground and lunged straight at Carter like an arrow loosed from a bow. Carter was strong, and much faster, but the sudden explosive movement caught him off guard. He wasn’t expecting that.

Russel knew his moment had come when he saw his father’s eyes widen, ever-so-slightly, with shock.

This is it, he told himself, trying to spur his exhausted body into giving more even though there was nothing left to give.

Russel slammed into the king’s body and he latched on like some kind of monkey, refusing to let go. He buried his claws in as far as he could and then clamped his fangs down on his father’s shoulder and neck area. Hot, metallic blood flew into his mouth and he gulped it down like a man dying of thirst at an oasis. The blood contained a sort of power. It gave him strength. He bit down even harder and felt more of it slide down his throat.

Carter stumbled back, reeling from the sheer ferocity of Russel’s attack. It was unexpected. It was…unusual.

Yes. That’s the right word for it.

Russel, Carter had known since the boy was just a small pup, would never have the stomach for being a werewolf. He was too weak. Too…human. Despite the fact that he was a pure wolf, the boy lacked the taste for the hunt. He’d never wasted any opportunity to throw his heritage of being a werewolf right back into his face. He’d done it over and over again. Despite Carter beating the boy senseless every time he did. Despite the cruel punishments which included the beatings yes, but also the execution of the boy’s mother right in front of his face. Despite all the times he locked him in a steel box and left him there for days on end.

Despite all of that, Russel had still fought against him. And against his own nature. He refused to hunt sentient creatures, which included, much to Carter’s disgust, humans. He even refused to treat the servants like the lowborn, filthy scum they were.

Although the boy did take to his lessons in fighting, he never used what he learned all that much. His other boys took their knowledge and applied it to ruthlessly hurt anyone else around them, as expected.

This version of Russel, this berserker, lost to nothing but rage, was not a side of his son he had ever seen. Even when he had done his absolute worst to him, he had never gotten this kind of reaction before. Killing his mother in front of him was probably the only other time that came close but even then, the boy had been young and too much of a scared whelp to do anything about it.

This woman had inspired this level of anger in him?

Why?

“Don’t you…ever…talk…about…her…again!”

Russel shouted these words in a deafening blast and punctuated each one with a savage blow of his claws. When he was done, he kicked off with his legs, did a somersault in midair, and landed on his feet. The fire in his eyes was growing brighter and brighter and Carter had time to realize his son was giving in and letting the wolf take control.

Finally! he thought to himself with a short moment of glee. Finally, he embraces the wolf.

Then, Russel was coming at him again, all speed and ferocity. His arms were a blur of movement, barely seen. He took cuts and slashes to his arms, chest, stomach, and even his thighs. He was able to block a couple of them but the rest split open his flesh and caused a searing pain to light up inside his body.

Russel didn’t stop. He felt himself losing control and felt the wolf inside him surging up, roaring to take over the whole situation.

And, for the first time in his life, he welcomed it.