live through this for that one day he would
get the chance to crush her slender frame in his hands.
Jasmine
tightened her grip around him and he held back the groan of pain. He knew
exactly what she was doing—playing with him while speaking of Delara, hoping to
get him aroused. She constantly tested him in sick ways and sometimes, he hated
to admit, it worked. Not this time though. Delara’s name passing Jasmine’s lips
made him sick to his stomach. “I feel sorry for you, Waleron. The love of your
life, fucking another man must be a difficult image.”
Her
laughter was drowned out by his roar.
Jasmine
licked her lips, staring into his unforgiving eyes. “Perhaps it would be easier
to imagine your sweet, precious Delara lying in a ditch. My source says she was
beaten pretty badly.” Waleron’s entire body contracted. No. God no.
“Oh, not
to fret, she still breathes. Painfully I might add. A shame you cannot help
her.” Jasmine laughed and Waleron’s hands clenched into fists.
“Oh calm
yourself. It will be far better for her to die slowly than for one of us to end
it quickly. I thought of bringing her here, letting you watch her die, but no
point, really. The Vivian Forest is rather far from here and she wouldn’t last
the trip, I’m afraid. Once she’s gone,” Jasmine ran a finger down his chest,
“you will no longer see any reason to fight me.” She spun on her heel and left
him alone to play over the worst words he could ever hear in his immortal life.
Delara
is dying.
A bellow
of pure torture rocked the stones surrounding his prison. Oblivious to the
threads digging into his flesh Waleron shouted and fought against the cocoon.
His pain mixed with fear over what was happening to Delara. He was unable to
protect her.
Waleron’s
oath was all he was and he’d lose a large part of himself by saving her. He’d
always thought he’d rather die than risk using his Scar. Now—he’d rather die
than lose Delara, yet using his Scar also meant he may never be able to be with
Delara again.
The Scar
was a gift from the Goddess when he was born, although Waleron had always seen
it as a detriment. It was different than the other Senses Scars; his held
darkness. Any rage, anger, and wrath he felt were taken in by his Scar. It sat
silent and unmoving on his skin, feeding on volatile emotions.
The
Goddess never wanted Waleron to lose control, so his Scar absorbed his emotions
when they became too intense, especially in situations like he was in now. If
his Scar hadn’t been feeding on his rage he would have already lost his sanity.
Waleron’s Scar was a shield that kept his oath to protect the Senses and all
their traditions in the forefront of his mind. It also was unable to leave his
skin. In other words, if he ever called upon his Scar for help, he became his
Scar. The absorbed darkness, rage, and anger became part of him, because his
Scar would now live as part of him. Waleron would never be the same man again.
The Scar would be able to take control of him and destroy all he cared about.
But he would risk everything and anything to get to Delara.
His
mother, Arossa Urrutia, a sadistic witch and one of the first Senses, had
begged the Goddess to put the Scar on him. The ultimate torture, a Scar that
Waleron could never call to without severe consequences. All his mother cared
about was for her son to live his oath. To be his oath to the Goddess.
There
were thousands of silk threads across Waleron’s body and they had to be broken
individually. Time was an issue, as he had no idea when Jasmine would return.
The Goddess claimed the snake held a fire within, but warned Waleron that
awakening his Scar would allow it to slowly control his body because it could
never be forced to rest and lie dormant on his skin again. His Scar would take
him over, forcing him to act only with the fury his Scar had fed off of since
the day he was born.
“Light
giveth to my soul. Coiled on my skin the
get the chance to crush her slender frame in his hands.
Jasmine
tightened her grip around him and he held back the groan of pain. He knew
exactly what she was doing—playing with him while speaking of Delara, hoping to
get him aroused. She constantly tested him in sick ways and sometimes, he hated
to admit, it worked. Not this time though. Delara’s name passing Jasmine’s lips
made him sick to his stomach. “I feel sorry for you, Waleron. The love of your
life, fucking another man must be a difficult image.”
Her
laughter was drowned out by his roar.
Jasmine
licked her lips, staring into his unforgiving eyes. “Perhaps it would be easier
to imagine your sweet, precious Delara lying in a ditch. My source says she was
beaten pretty badly.” Waleron’s entire body contracted. No. God no.
“Oh, not
to fret, she still breathes. Painfully I might add. A shame you cannot help
her.” Jasmine laughed and Waleron’s hands clenched into fists.
“Oh calm
yourself. It will be far better for her to die slowly than for one of us to end
it quickly. I thought of bringing her here, letting you watch her die, but no
point, really. The Vivian Forest is rather far from here and she wouldn’t last
the trip, I’m afraid. Once she’s gone,” Jasmine ran a finger down his chest,
“you will no longer see any reason to fight me.” She spun on her heel and left
him alone to play over the worst words he could ever hear in his immortal life.
Delara
is dying.
A bellow
of pure torture rocked the stones surrounding his prison. Oblivious to the
threads digging into his flesh Waleron shouted and fought against the cocoon.
His pain mixed with fear over what was happening to Delara. He was unable to
protect her.
Waleron’s
oath was all he was and he’d lose a large part of himself by saving her. He’d
always thought he’d rather die than risk using his Scar. Now—he’d rather die
than lose Delara, yet using his Scar also meant he may never be able to be with
Delara again.
The Scar
was a gift from the Goddess when he was born, although Waleron had always seen
it as a detriment. It was different than the other Senses Scars; his held
darkness. Any rage, anger, and wrath he felt were taken in by his Scar. It sat
silent and unmoving on his skin, feeding on volatile emotions.
The
Goddess never wanted Waleron to lose control, so his Scar absorbed his emotions
when they became too intense, especially in situations like he was in now. If
his Scar hadn’t been feeding on his rage he would have already lost his sanity.
Waleron’s Scar was a shield that kept his oath to protect the Senses and all
their traditions in the forefront of his mind. It also was unable to leave his
skin. In other words, if he ever called upon his Scar for help, he became his
Scar. The absorbed darkness, rage, and anger became part of him, because his
Scar would now live as part of him. Waleron would never be the same man again.
The Scar would be able to take control of him and destroy all he cared about.
But he would risk everything and anything to get to Delara.
His
mother, Arossa Urrutia, a sadistic witch and one of the first Senses, had
begged the Goddess to put the Scar on him. The ultimate torture, a Scar that
Waleron could never call to without severe consequences. All his mother cared
about was for her son to live his oath. To be his oath to the Goddess.
There
were thousands of silk threads across Waleron’s body and they had to be broken
individually. Time was an issue, as he had no idea when Jasmine would return.
The Goddess claimed the snake held a fire within, but warned Waleron that
awakening his Scar would allow it to slowly control his body because it could
never be forced to rest and lie dormant on his skin again. His Scar would take
him over, forcing him to act only with the fury his Scar had fed off of since
the day he was born.
“Light
giveth to my soul. Coiled on my skin the
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