Hate

by K. A Knight

I stop him with a hand on his face. “Wait, will it scar?”

  “It will if I don’t heal it,” he answers, confused.

  “Then leave it, I’ll wear it proudly.”

  I feel his cock jerk inside me, making us both groan as he gets hard again. Digging my feet into his ass, I start to rock against him and he meets my movements with shallow, slow thrusts. Our eyes remain locked in shared pain and need.

  Both of us have suffered, both of us have died and were reborn into something else…

  Both of us found each other in the dark.

  “I will always find you,” he whispers.

  The fucking turns into something else, something softer. Emerging from all that need, anger, and blood lust is something beautiful and strong.

  Us.

  With nothing else to do, we sit and talk. He wraps me in his arms and tells me stories of all the places he’s seen and people he’s met over the years. He builds me kingdoms and palaces from words, winding the tales around me until I feel like I’m there.

  Each one of my mates offers me something different, a strength, a weakness, a chance to be better. To build and grow. And each time I’m in their arms, it feels perfect, special. It doesn’t feel the same or get old, it always feels right. And if Griffin or Nos or Dume or Aska walked in right now, I would be just as excited to see them.

  I know this won’t be uneventful forever, there will be jealousy and fights, but we can handle it. We can handle anything together. In a way, being locked up down here with nothing but my thoughts to occupy me has given me a chance to really look inside myself.

  With no ex to hunt, I’ve stopped for a time, taking a break, and it makes me realise just how much I’ve grown to care for all of them—even Jair, whom I just met. They all have a piece of me. It’s a dark and damaged piece, but it’s me. I know we have enemies on all sides and life will never be easy. We are going to have to fight each and every day, but when the aftermath comes in such a sexy, depraved package like my mates, can I really complain?

  Besides, wasn’t that what I was doing as a human? Only back then I had no one to fight by my side, to watch my back, to care if I lived or died.

  Now I have five creatures who care. Who will always be there, who will never hurt me—unless I want them to—who will never abandon me, or deem me not good enough.

  It’s mating, it’s forever, and I’m beginning to see just how amazing that is. The rage I once felt melts to something softer, brighter almost, with shades of grey thrown in.

  Being good isn’t the best thing a person can be, and it depends on whom you surround yourself with. If you live in the light, but you live alone, is living and loving in the dark really such a wrong thing?

  I don’t think so.

  We hear it then, the booted feet heading our way, and it pops our bubble of happiness. Sighing, I look up at Jair. “Time to play again. Next time I see you, we are putting the plan into place. It’s time to show them exactly what kind of monsters they have kept locked up.”

  He grins with an evil look in his eyes, and I know I have the same one. Monsters recognise one another, after all. “Until then, my rising moon, make them hurt.” He kisses me soundly before helping me to my feet. Stepping back, he pretends to be chained as I wait in front of the door, hoping they won’t look too closely at him.

  The door swings outward and five guards stand there sneering at me. “Well, hello again,” I purr. “I’m afraid we got a little bored and decided to have some fun, hope that’s okay?”

  “Grab her, Amos wants to talk to her,” one orders.

  “Oooh, Assmos? Why didn’t you say so, let’s go.” Winking back at Jair, I push through the guards, whistling as I start to saunter away, feeling them gape after me.

  I hear the cell door slam shut then they soon catch up with me. One grabs my arm, but after Jair’s loving touch, I find myself hating their hands on me, so doing as Jair prompted, I rip out his throat with my nails.

  Stepping over the body, I carry on walking. “Don’t touch me.”

  They yell and get mad, but don’t try to guide me again. Instead, two walk behind and two stride in front as my hand steadily drips blood behind me like a Hansel and Gretel trail.

  Let’s see what the great and powerful Assmos wants now. I hope he has cake this time. I’m famished after all the fucking and blood drinking. I wonder if I told him that I wouldn’t kill any more guards if he would get me some?

  See? I can be a good prisoner, assface, now cake please?

  I doubt it, might be worth a try though.

  Sliding the tray through the hole in the cell door, I snatch my hand back as a stone claw comes through and seizes it. Grumbling, I throw the now empty trolley into the storage cupboard. Why the fuck am I being a maid again? Oh, that’s right, my mate has a plan.

  I should have just grabbed her and got her out of here when I had the chance, but she distracted me with her logic and boobs and now I’m stuck serving all the crazy fucking monsters and criminals the council keeps down here. It’s taken me over a day to do my section and exhaustion is settling in, so I head back to the nephilim sleeping quarters. Some of them are already asleep, one even has a knife in his grasp as he snores.

  The fucking psychos, and people think I’m crazy, it’s no surprise when I grew up with these nut jobs.

  I head to the back of the room, past the beds, and find a corner I can put my back to. I need sleep, but I’m not trusting them not to attack me when I’m weak. Sliding down the wall, I press my spine against the cold brick and pull out two blades, one in each hand, and close my eyes.

  I know I need sleep, I need to be rested and strong for whatever my mate has planned, but shutting my eyes is like sleeping in a viper’s nest and sends a shot of adrenaline through me as I wait for them to attack...but then nothing happens.

  I start to relax, sighing as my body unlocks from its defensive position, and I slump tiredly as the adrenaline drains away. The cold from the floor seeps through my wrinkled clothes, making me shiver. The air is stale and smells like you would expect with over forty men asleep in here—bad. I focus on everything else, trying to get my mind to settle. I anchor myself in the moment, what can I smell, feel, and hear…

  Eventually I relax enough so I start to feel myself drift off to sleep. I sleep half awake, keeping my ears open for any attacks, but the room is quiet other than the rhythmic ticking of a clock.

  “Mum,” I call, my fist propped under my chin as I watch the hands on the clock move slowly. “Where is he? He promised to be here by five, but it’s now half past. He’s always late! He promised this time, promised me!”

  I hear her sigh. “I don’t know, sometimes I wonder if he cares,” she whispers quietly, and I know I shouldn’t have heard that, but sometimes she forgets I don’t have human hearing. I turn my head, spotting her worrying her bottom lip as she looks at the clock herself before seeming to shake it off and perk up. “I don’t know, baby, he probably got held up working—”

  “Like always, we see him less and less, does-does he even love us anymore?” I ask, my bottom lip wobbling uncontrollably as tears fill my eyes. “Is it me? Something I did? Am I not good enough? Is that why he doesn’t love us? I can be better! I swear!”

  She rushes over and drops to her knees before me, cupping my face as her human eyes fill with sadness and anger even though her voice is soft. “Shush, baby, no. You know he loves you very much, sometimes he just gets distracted with work is all. Everyone has their downfalls, Griff, but we love them for it even more because those imperfections make them real. You are an amazing son, the best he could have ever asked for, so don’t ever question that again!” She squeezes my cheeks harder then, forcing my lips to create a fish face, and she smiles in return, like the sunshine through a cloud. “There, how can anyone not love that squishy little face?”

  “Mum!” I protest, pulling away softly, remembering my own strength versus hers and not wanting to hurt her.

  She laughs but drops h
er hands, clasping my own on my lap. “He loves us, baby, don’t ever question that, he just doesn’t know how to show it. He’s not like us.”

  “Soft? Weak?” I say, throwing back the words of the other kids.

  “Strong,” she corrects in a stern voice. “It takes true strength to love, Griffin, true strength to admit someone is your weakness and let them in anyway. Only the strongest of us love, because to love is to give someone the keys to hurt you.”

  “What…what if they hurt you?” I question, looking away from her eyes, tracing the wrinkled hands clutching mine. Her body is getting weaker by the day. Dad—Gabriel—says it’s because she’s getting old. I asked him if I would, and he said he didn’t know, that we would have to see.

  “Then they hurt you. That hurt shows you just how deeply you cared. And in that hurt you find your true strength, you find the will to carry on, and eventually you will discover that sometimes heartbreak is the best thing to happen to you because it teaches you lessons and only makes you wiser for the next time. Don’t be afraid to love, Griffin, it’s scary, unpredictable, and imperfect, but it’s also beautiful, life affirming, and the reason we live. We search our whole lives to love someone, and when you find them you hold on tight and don’t let go. You love everything about them, every quirk, every flaw, every failure because it shows you who they really are, that they love you enough to show you them.”

  “Do you love me?” I query, trying to understand what she’s saying. It doesn’t add up to the cruel names the other kids call me for caring, for loving. Or even the clinical, almost cruel way my father describes the necessity for companionship.

  “With all my heart. You are my miracle, Griffin. The reason I keep on living, the reason I fight all those bastards out there, and sometimes even your father. I love you more than this human heart can hold.” She presses her hand against her heart and then mine, listening as it beats along with hers. “You have such a capacity for love, my boy, don’t throw that away. Be strong. This world will try to tear you down, don’t let it.”

  She smiles then, it’s beautiful and imperfect like she describes. Her teeth are slightly crooked, her lips hanging higher on one side, but it’s familiar and the one she gives me every night and every morning. It reminds me of home, of love, and I am finally beginning to understand what she means.

  “Mum—” She starts to fade away and I jerk, my hands reaching out to grab her as she disappears into mist, the smile on her face turning sad.

  “Be strong, baby, trust yourself,” she whispers.

  “Mum!” I scream.

  A hand covers my mouth and I jolt awake, realising I had fallen into a deep sleep. Fuck. My eyes connect with those of the two nephilim above me. They seem familiar somehow, but I don’t have time to connect the dots because they are hauling me to my feet. I fight back, slashing out with my knives, and I hear one grunt as I hit my target, but then a black bag is placed over my head and I’m disoriented. I’m guided from the room and I feel cold air hit my body as we head outside.

  I stop fighting, saving my strength for whatever they have planned. They are silent and I feel the gravel give way to grass under my feet. Suddenly I’m jerked around and my face is smashed into something strong and rough. A tree? Maybe. My hands are tugged around the wide trunk and I growl, slashing with my knives again, but a grunt escapes me when they break both wrists, my knives falling to the ground with an audible thud. My hands are tied, the razor wire cutting into my injured wrists which I can feel trying to knit back together. They step away then, and I can hear their ragged breathing from somewhere behind me.

  Grinding my teeth, I tug on the razor wire. It’s tight, but I could cut through my wrists if need be to escape, except I don’t know how long it would take for it to heal and I would be weak from blood loss. Plus, what would I do? I can’t hurt them back, the council would have me killed. It would give them proof that I’m the mad dog they call me.

  No, I need to be strong. I’ve survived worse, I can survive this. As long as they don’t kill me, I can survive it. I repeat it again and again, forcing my mind to toughen up and push all thoughts of my mate away. She makes me feel weak, and I can’t afford that now, not if I’m to get through this and back to her side where I belong.

  They don’t remove the bag, so I can’t even see them, instead I close my eyes and focus on my other senses. I can smell them, the scent of wings and the metal they are carrying. I can feel their anger and hatred brushing along my back with the force of it. I hear them shifting, their boots crushing twigs even as they try to stay silent, but they can’t stop their breathing or the pounding of their hearts.

  “Well, isn’t this fun,” I deadpan. “Do trees make you hard or something?”

  “You fucking abomination,” one of them spits, his voice low.

  “I’ve heard that before, you guys need new insults, it just sounds like a pet name now,” I taunt. I don’t know why, maybe it’s a habit. I won’t show them my fear, I’ll force their hand, mess with their plans. They don’t get to see my weaknesses, only Dawn does.

  “Do you remember us?” the other one questions, his voice breaking like he can’t speak, and that’s when it hits me. I know why they are familiar.

  I go quiet and the one with the deeper voice laughs. “Oh, I think he does, so he knows why we are here...revenge.”

  “I was a kid, I had anger issues and you guys were assholes,” I snap.

  I remember them, and he’s right, they want revenge. They had been saying shit about my mum for days, spreading rumours, calling her a whore, weak, a sheep. They made the mistake of saying it to my face the day I had a fight with my dad over slapping my mum. It was their blunder.

  As much as I like to believe the darkness, the madness hiding inside me was created the day they took my wings, I know differently deep down. I was born with it. I’ve always had it. Yes, they brought it out that day, but it appeared one other day before. That day with these two. I had waited for them, attacked them. The one with the ruined voice? I ripped out his throat with my bare hands and put it around my neck like a trophy. Later, I handed it to my mum as a way of telling her they couldn’t hurt her anymore with their words. The other? Let’s just say it’s a good job we can’t have kids, because there’s no way he ever could now.

  Afterwards, my mother had been horrified, and that’s when I realised I had done something bad. Something really messed up, something only a monster would do. She looked at me differently after that, as if she finally understood I wasn’t human but something else, something capable of killing and hurting in ways she couldn’t imagine. Oh, she still loved me, but it was tinged with fear. I hated them for making our last moments filled with that. I blame these assholes for it. Maybe I would have been triggered some other way, maybe I wouldn’t have. All I know is they are the reason I became scared of myself, of what hides within. I buried it deeply after that, never letting it show, becoming perfectly in control, cold even. It was easier if I didn’t feel, because then I couldn’t react. I saw the sadness in my mother’s eyes as I became more and more like my father, but I did it for her. To protect her from me.

  “I didn’t know any better,” I growl. “I was a kid, we were all kids. Plus you totally had it coming. Tell me, how’s the cockless life going?”

  One of them growls, and I hear the other nephilim holding him back. “You are nothing but a feral animal,” the one with the ruined throat tells me. “Do you know how they break feral animals?”

  “If they can’t tame them, they kill them,” the other one continues, “but before that comes a whole lot of pain. We are going to tame you, Griffin, but I really hope we can’t. I have been dreaming about killing you since I was thirteen.”

  “All I’m hearing is that you have dirty wet dreams about me. Kind of weird,” I tease.

  “I hope that humour helps you survive this,” he growls.

  Something thick, barbed, and sharp slices across my back. It tears through my shirt and skin as pain
flashes through me in white-hot heat. A groan slips out from the suddenness of the attack, but then I bite down to stop any more sounds from escaping.

  Weakness is strength.

  Pain is living.

  I can do this.

  The lash comes again and again, and they leave different stints between the hits so I can’t predict them. I only hear the slither as it slices through the air, heading for my unprotected back which is already on fire. My body stiffens at the sound, making the pain worse. I feel the skin trying to stitch back together again, but there are too many wounds, so it’s slow going. I feel blood coating me, dripping down my back to my trousers and to the ground below. Like a sacrifice to the earth.

  They laugh as I writhe in agony, a scream trapped in my throat. Unwillingly, my mind reaches for Dawn, needing to feel her loving touch for just a moment. It was the wrong thing to do as she fills my mind instantly, gasping in pain. She feels the next lash and the lash after that, I try to push her out to block her off, but she won’t leave.

  Her anger and hatred fills my head, her utter helplessness at not being here to kill them. I feel it, the need to bathe in their blood, to stop the pain they are inflicting on something she has claimed...something she loves.

  It gives me strength, her love guides me, and I try to make my mental voice as strong as possible.

  Calm down, Vasculo, this is just a bit of foreplay. See you soon.

  Then I push her from my mind and block it off so she can’t come back, so that she doesn’t have to witness this humiliation, to see the weakness of her mate and let the pain rip through her. No, this is mine to deal with.

  And she reminded me of one thing—we are not victims.

  Not anymore.

  I’m stronger now, because of her. Fuck this and fuck them.

  I let her anger twine with mine, and it fills me up, blocking out the pain with icy tendrils of utter madness. It reaches for me, telling me I can make it stop, that it can help me.

  Fuck this. The madness takes over and I let it. I hide in it like a child huddling in the dark, crying for his mum. Pain flows through me and I realise I’ve ripped my wrists open on the wire, but I am free. Blood flows quickly from my body and I instantly feel lightheaded, but I ignore it as I tear away the bag and turn with a snarl to see the two fallen.