480- Better to Burn
POV Thalyndra Moonclaw:
"I don't know why these idiots, these reckless fools, still play with my brothers' patience—as if they don't know they inherited Edric's entire personality," she hissed, rolling her eyes.
Anton remained silent, more beast than man. He flared his nostrils, sniffing Rares. Upon smelling my scent on him, he clenched his teeth, his fangs showing, and growled. He pulled back his free hand, full of long, sharp claws. In a brutal strike, he drove it into Rares' chest, sinking it into the skin. The scent of blood spread through the air, imposing itself over all senses.
Rares gurgled in pain, spitting blood that stained the skin of his chin.
Petru screamed and ran toward him, but was intercepted by Myrion, who moved with absurd speed.
"Let him go!" Petru shouted.
Myrion huffed and rolled his eyes.
"After you watch him die, it'll be your turn, don't worry."
Anton pulled his hand back, the one buried in Rares' chest, holding between his bloodied fingers the wolf's heart.
I brought my hands to my mouth, in shock. I stood up in one motion, my legs shaky, not knowing how to react to the scene unfolding before me.
On one hand, I found it absurd, animalistic, and shocking. On the other, something in me stirred, took pleasure in it. Two males dueling for my attention—Anton being the strong, powerful alpha who won the standoff, who belonged to me, who was worthy of siring my heirs.
I blinked.
Siring heirs? What the hell was that?
The more time I spent in Eldoria, the crazier I was becoming.
He smiled, showing his long, sharp fangs. Rares' head tilted to the side, his lifeless body held by Anton's hand on his neck. The alpha pulled the heart and took a bite out of the organ, ripping off a piece and chewing it, smearing his chin with blood.
A succession of shocked gasps followed.
If I were a decent person, I would have felt like vomiting, but that wasn't the case. That display of sovereignty and power left me as hot as hell itself. My panties were soaked with my arousal.
"You goddamn bastard!" Petru shouted, writhing, trying to break free from Myrion's grip, but he didn't even manage to move, even though the male appeared to be much older than him.
Myrion let out a snort, bored.
"You know what? You're a pain in the ass! You won't be missed at all." He looked around. "Let's give these shitheads a proper wake," he shouted, his tone dripping with mockery. "And if anyone here opens their mouth about what happened, they'll meet the same fate."
"Myrion, no!" Aurelka pleaded, stepping forward.
He fixed his eyes on his sister. They were no longer blue with silver—they were mismatched, like Anton's.
"Relax, little sister."
He grabbed Petru by the neck and twisted it to the side. The bones cracked, breaking. The male didn't even have time to gasp. Blood trickled from his nose, and his pupils dilated. Before he could fall at the Eldoria's feet, Myrion caught him and threw him onto the bonfire, making the flames flicker and the twigs scatter across the ground, some still glowing. The dry crack of breaking branches echoed through the clearing, and the momentary heat intensified as embers leaped from the stone circle. Within seconds, Petru's body was covered in flames, being consumed by them.
Myrion wiped his palms on his pants.
"May your afterlife be as shitty as you were, and may your soul never find peace, amen!" he mocked, leaning forward as if blessing Petru's body.
Anton tossed Rares's heart into the fire, then turned and threw his body on top of his friend's, into the flames. The smell of smoke was replaced by the stench of burning flesh. My stomach churned. I breathed deeply through my mouth, trying to suppress the nausea.
"No one's going to miss those imbeciles," Myrion murmured. He placed his hands on his hips and spun around, facing everyone present. "As I said, lips sealed! If anyone here spills the beans... well, we don't usually make empty threats."
Aurelka approached me and linked her arm through mine, pulling me closer.
"Daddy is going to be so angry when he finds out what happened here..." She sighed.
I shot her a sidelong glance.
"Are you, by any chance, not at all shocked?" I asked, my mouth dry from nervousness.
She shrugged.
"When you're the daughter of chaos, you end up adapting to it over time. So nothing shocks me easily anymore, least of all my brothers losing their patience with two idiots."
"This isn't the first time this has happened?" She laughed.
"No! And I doubt it'll be the last. My brothers have a pretty low tolerance, most of the time."
"Wow..." I murmured.
I watched the fire slowly consume the bodies, melting the skin down to the bones. It wasn't a pretty sight, but it was far from the worst atrocity I had ever witnessed. Dismembering the Merchant with my own hands was still at the top of that list.
Everyone present gathered their things and ran off, getting away from there as fast as possible. They didn't fear the Eldoria brothers, I realized—they feared what had happened. On one side, two young wolves with strength no one could measure; on the other, their father, the current pack leader, who would come looking for answers, for the truth. The situation they found themselves in was far from ideal.
Aurelka stepped away from me and crossed her arms in front of her body, staring at her brothers with narrowed eyes.
"And once again, you two are making trouble," she accused. Myrion snorted, his eyes back to their usual hue.
"We have no idea what you're talking about, little sister." She arched her eyebrows.
"Our father is going to kill you both!" She uncrossed her arms and pointed an accusatory finger at them. "He made it perfectly clear he didn't want this happening again."
"Petru and Rares were so irrelevant he won't even notice they're gone. Besides, this time we gave them a proper wake."
"Of course he will! He knows every member of the pack."
"Relax! We have everything under control," Myrion argued.
Anton approached me, his eyes still gleaming.
"I need to talk to you," he said, then walked off toward the forest, not waiting for my answer.
"I would go to him, if I were you," Myrion said. I looked in his direction. "Anton isn't fully in control yet, but I can say with absolute conviction that he would hurt anyone here—except you."
"Why?" I whispered.
He nodded in the direction his brother had gone.
"Just go to him."
No one in their right mind would do that—go after the wolf who had just killed someone right in front of everyone. He was dangerous, aggressive, a killer.
But strangely, none of those traits frightened me, just as I knew Myrion was right: Anton would never hurt me.
So I spun on my heels and followed him.