My Curiosity Hungers - 18+ Mature

[Lye]

This thread is 18+ and rated for mature audiences due to nudity and aggressive sexual themes.

Between the border city of Archen and the Great White Expanse ran a little known trail through a shallow valley. Before the curse of Denebriel turned the lands to barren deserts of ice and snow, the valley served many caravans to the northern settlements. Now all but ruins and frozen relics, the cities lay barren beneath layers of packed frost. Yet, through this valley, protected by the might winter gales, ran a trio of horse drawn wagons. The drivers hid beneath bundles of animal furs and dense wool shawls. Their faces remained hidden except for the dull, lifeless eyes that gazed onward to the white abyss.

“Move over,” called a voice from within the lead caravan. The canvas which protected the contents of the wagon parted to reveal another pair of eyes beneath fold of winter clothing.

“About time,” replied the driver as he gathered the reins and held them out. “The feeling in my fingers is gone.”

From folds of tarp, the second man clambered to the old wooden seat. He settled in and took the reins with a commanding crack. The horses brayed in the wind, clouds of heated breath billowing forth from their maws.

“Settle in with the supplies.” The replacement driver kept his eyes forward as the other made way to the back. “I moved the leather and some of the bags of rice apart. Should help you warm up.”

“Tch,” came a chuckled reply. “I wouldn’t mind being in the middle cart. I’m sure those whores would do plenty to keep me warm.”

“Don’t kid yourself. Those women are lucky to make the trip. Besides,” The driver turned back to the wagon with a playful nod. “You wouldn't be able to handle six women at once. When was the last time you bedded one?”

A chuckle echoed into the frigid canyon but was not reciprocated by his colleague.

“Oh shut it will ya? Neither of us have had a good lay in ages.” The man disappeared behind the canvas and the driver focused himself forward.

“If that’s not the truth…” mumbled the driver beneath the comfort of his furs.

[darkest.desires.]

Run, run, run. Keep moving.

Camille chanted to herself, stumbling on the frost covered ground. The wind whipped wickedly against her frail body, the breeze lapping bitterly at her cheeks. Her plush lips that once held a crimson glow now tainted with a purple hue. Fleeing from her Master’s castle was invigorating but that triumphant feeling had subsided and now all that was left was hunger and the daunting harsh cold.

Let me come out Camille, I am stronger and we will die if you continue in your weak state. Nikita's velvety voice clouding her mind causing her to trip and fall. Her body trembling, she knew the consequences that came with setting Nikta free but she had no choice.

Her bones started to crack, her joints groaning in protest. Crying out she gripped the ground, her spine elongated along with her mouth which was transforming into a muzzle. The tattered clothes that she had been wearing ripped away, left there standing was a white lycan. Rare as they are hard to find. Nikita stretched her limbs shaking out her fur.

Her tongue tracing her sharp teeth as she could feel her stomach twist with hunger. Bringing her nose towards the heavens she inhaled deeply, the sweet luscious smell of blood. The primal instinct to feed took over as she took off, darting between the trees allowing her instinct to drive her. Her paws slapping against the frozen ground. A feral snarl came from her, pushing herself faster towards her meal.

Please Nikita no.. Camille tried to push her thoughts forward but was easily forced back into the own seclusion of her mind.

The sound of rickety wagon wheels drew closer with each pushing off her paw. The smell of blood fueling her to move faster, swifter. The valley neared, three wagons pulled by horse slowly made their way down the trail. The smell of blood was coming from the middle cart, a growl rumbled in her chest. The instinct to kill was too great for even Camille to stop the lycan spirit.

In a mere instance the large wolf like creature dove down into the valley tearing through the driver of the wagon like butter. Her teeth sinking deep into his neck as she ripped off a chunk of flesh. His mangled screams subsided as he choked on his own blood, bleeding out quickly. The taste of the delectable crimson colored liquid filled her mouth.

The beast was starting to get greedy as she wanted more. The hollering of the guards from the caravans ripped her attention from her food as she snarling at them. Quickly darting to the wagon of woman she indulged herself in their tattered bodies. Her teeth ripping into one person after another, her snowy white coat now splattered with red.

Stop! Camille screamed the faces of the horrified woman etched into her mind forever, their screams echoing in the valley.

For a brief moment Camille gained control of the beast pulling it back as she howled out with pain and heartache. The beast’s eyes flashed from pure black to Camille’s midnight ocean blue orbs before returning back to the color of a cold heartless killing machine. Just as a guard was about to sink his spear into the beast back a voice called out restraining the man from delivering the fatal blow.

[Lye]

From silence, the choir of chaos erupted into a grand crescendo. Blood curdling screams filled the air, backed by the rolling percussion of gurgled death throes. Splintered bones between the maw of ravenous beast melodies with the clatter of steel falling to the rocky tundra. Men from the rear caravan drew blades from beneath their furs and charged. The horses spurred and turned the rear wagon to its side. Contents spilled to the snow: food, blades, gunpowder, and tools. As the symphony of death played, the mound of spilled goods heaved.

From it, emerged a tall, pale man with silver hair. His leather carapace and white arctic furs showed unfortunate damage from the weapons which buried him. A trail of red spilled from beneath his hairline and rolled across his scarred right eye, already hazed with blindness.

“What the hell is it?!” roared one of the caravan guards. The beast ripped and tore with fervor, becoming one with the carnage.

“A beast!” cried another before his words punctuated with a yowl, then silence.

“GET THIS UNDER CONTROL!” The white haired man howled over the cacophony. From his back he drew two eastern style blades and his boots broke through the frosted tundra as he charged forth.

“Master Ulroke!” chimed one of the caravan guards just seconds before he found himself without a throat to speak.

Lye charged into the fray and witnessed the albino werebeast as it tore bodies limb from limb. Its maw rendered and gulped raw flesh by the mouthful. Crimson ichor stained its otherwise pristine, white fur. In its fervor, the assassin noticed a pause of pain in the beast who remained unwounded. As it recoiled, a glimmer of blue shone in its otherwise pitch black irises.

“Hyaaa!” roared a caravan guard, spear first toward his feral target.

“Stop!” Lye commanded. His arm outstretched and hues of black possessed his soldier’s weapon, wrenching it from his grip and burying the spearhead into the distance. The soldier fell to his rear and clambered backwards to flee.

Without time to explain, Lye darted headlong toward the beast. A familiar black magic pulled several throwing needles from the guards on his wrist and flung them into the back of the animal. As they bit into its flesh, the metal spread painfully like roots beneath the surface. The beast reared back slashing its claws out at the silver haired man. Lye closed the gap, avoiding a wild claw inches over his head. His blade plunged into the werewolf’s gut, precise enough to injure without damaging vital organs. The ivory colored beast lunged quickly before the crippling pain was overbearing, its large teeth sinking into his tough flesh. The assassin clenched his teeth under the pain of the wolf’s maw. His hands abandoned their blades and wrapped around the girth of the beast’s neck.

“You will understand my pain!” Lye howled. The magic stolen from Seth Dahlios burst to life. The agony throbbing through Lye’s body broadcasted to everyone nearby. His own men clawed at their shoulders as if they were being torn apart. Those who knew his magic quickly tried to get distance from its effects. Yet only within moments, did Lye’s bones begin to writhe, shatter, and reform. The pain of a thousand pulverized bones replicated on those alive, werebeast included.

[darkest.desires.]

Nikita howled out in pain, her grip detaching from the silver haired man’s flesh. Withering in pain she tried to scurry away but the pain of the blade in her gut was paralyzing, leaving her large form immobile. A new wave of crippling torture spread throughout her body, even Camille in the fair depths of her mind was affected.

Please Nikita give me back the control, maybe if I transform back he will stop!! Camille pleaded curled into the fetal position.

As much as the werebeast wanted to maintain control she couldn’t withstand the agony any more. Her bones started to shift and crack, the fur disappearing replaced with fresh pink skin, her muzzle replaced with plush red lips still stained with blood. The transformation took only a few minutes before Camille laid naked and bleeding in the snow.

Her trembling hands clutched her wounds as she cried out in pain. The assassin stood upright and peered down on her with a steeled gaze. “Pl-ease stop..” Her voice hoarse yet pleading, the pain was too much for her body to hold up to with the wounds she had obtained and having just been in her lycan form.

Her eyes threatening to slowly roll back in their sockets as she tried to hold her head up, it lulled to the side before falling back into the snow covered ground.

Don’t pass out, Cammy! Nikita hissed weakly her voice soft yet held a serious tone.

Camille fought as hard as she could to keep her eyes open. Her gaze landing on the man with the scar across his eye, “help please.” She was uncertain if such a man would even consider to help her. The man reached down and wrapped his hand around her neck. With a grunt, he pulled her to her feet and lifted her inches from the snow. His eyes looked over her exposed body in silence as the unbearable pain began to fade from her body.

“There you are…” he hissed with a grin.

Camille’s mouth fell open, her words lost for a moment along with the air in her lungs. Her hands clung to his own grasp around her throat, “s-stop..”

The man chuckled and shook his head. His clawed grasp opened and she fell to the ground. Inhaling the air with greed she sputtered and coughed. “It’s clear!” The man yelled to those you fled the scene. The man knelt beside Camille and forced her to her back where his weapons still stuck out. She felt him gather her wrist and bind them behind her. “Salvage the wreckage, this one travels with me!”

Camille wasn’t sure what was more gruesome, the weapon that was still lodged in her back, the snow that was now starting to burn against her skin or this man that had a cold look of desire and revenge in his eye. “I’m sorry..” The tears weld up in her eyes spilling over her blood stained cheeks, the grief and pain washing over her tattered body.

[Lye]

“You will be,” Lye returned. He cinched the knot tight against her skin. Then, and without much care nor regard, he yanked his blade from her side and used her hair to clean the length of its steel. “If you think of turning, I’ll part your head from your shoulders. Are we clear?”

Lye pressed the edge of his blade to the back of her head. Several strands of blonde fell limp to the snow.

The girl cried out in pain but it didn’t phase Lye, the wound now trickling blood at a steady rate.

The assassin slapped the blade back into its wooden scabbard. Then, he hefted the bloody girl and threw her over his injured shoulder with a wince.

“Sir!” Reported one of his men that wreaked of shitting oneself. “There’s only two of us left. The central cart is completely destroyed and only two of the women made it. One might not survive her injuries.”

“Damn bitch,” Lye swore, hefting her upon his shoulder with a yelp. “Throw the women in the front cart. You get to take point. Give me the other soldier that doesn’t smell of cowardice.”

“S-sir!” The youth saluted before hurrying past the unspeakable carnage to the front wagon.

“You and me are going to have a nice talk in a bit,” Lye muttered as he carried the naked women to the rear wagon. Still spilled over, Lye shook his he placed the captive against the cold, stone wall of the cavern and turned to the wreckage. The wound that the werewolf delivered began to writhe with little while threads like maggots. The folded, twisted, and weaved together were flesh was rendered and stopped the blood from rolling down his shoulder. He pulled a skin of wolf fur from the pile of spilled wares and placed it over the wounded girl.

“Fitting your dead kin to keep you warm,” he added. Skin tucked around her, he gripped her by the chin to better assess her face. “Not a bad looker for a were-beast. Female too. I’ve only seen the males.”

He wrenched her face away from him and turned to the wreckage.

“You killed five of my men, and four of our slaves.” As he spoke, he reached his arms into the chilled winter air and the shadows began to dance along the snow like living ink. “I hope you fed well, because when we arrive at camp, you’ll be working to fill the difference.”

The wagon groaned and crackled as darkness began to crawl along the wood. By some unnatural force it began to right itself. The horse whinnied and stomped, yet seemed oddly comfortable with the event. Once upright, the objects that lay upon the snow shifted, raised, and after taking on a blackened hue, placed themselves back into the cart.

The woman’s eyes grew mimicking the size of milk saucers, her plush lips turning a blue hue as it quivered. “I didn’t mean for this to happen- I just wanted to be free.” Her voice soft, barely a whisper, curled under the fur he had given her clutching her wound.

The assassin chuckled darkly as his work finished. “Free? No, no. Not anymore. But you will make an excellent pet when I’m done with you, mutt.”

He turned to her with a grimace and hefted her over his shoulder only to carry her to the cart. He threw her in the back of it atop a bundle of furs and hoisted himself in behind her. Just as he closed the distance between the two in the wagon the woman tried to create more, a small groan like whimper parting her trembling lips. “Please no, not again,” she pleaded.

“Again?” Lye asked. Like meat, he threw her again to her back where he could tend to the trio of needles still rooted into her flesh. He gripped one and pulled gently and slowly. While painful, the enchanted metal roots gradually reverted to a thin, straight rod.

The woman hissed in pain wincing with each needle that was plucked from her skin, “yes again.” Her eyes darting from the needles back towards the man that was tending the wounds he had created.

Lye continued one by one until he retrieved all of his weapons from her body. “Tough luck,” he commented. From a satchel at his back, he produced a flask. He pulled several vials from a leather case on his waist and pulled the corks with his teeth, spitting them to the side. The contents emptied into the flask in a specific order until he began muttering a chant in Latin. The flask shimmered, then faded.

He poured the contents little by little into each wound he had made. The woman’s face scrunched in pain as she jumped with each drop that touched her wounded flesh. “Fuck that hurts,” she murmured under her breath, her chest rising and falling unevenly. The wounds slowly clotting, healing slightly but not completely.

Finished, he placed the empty flask in his pouch and turned the bare chested woman to her back. His cold hand firmly gripped her breast with a grin on his face. He pressed against her and massaged gently. “You’ll make for great entertainment. Firm too.” The assassin let go and threw more furs to cover her before propping himself against the opposite end of the wagon.

“Sir,” called out a voice from the front of the cart. The canvas parted and a shrouded face peered back at them. “We’re as ready as we’re going to be.”

“Move out,” Lye commanded. “We should still make it by nightfall despite our little run-in here.

“You’re bringing it with?”

“Someone has to pay for our loss.” Lye smirked at the girl as the driver cracked the reins and the wagon surged forward.

[darkest.desires.]

Camille wanted to cry out in frustration, she had left one Master behind to be claimed by another. The movement of the wagon jutting forward made her hiss. Her body was still weak and frail from the beating she had taken in her human and werebeast form. The swift movements that landed him on top of her groping her breast made her core tighten and ache. It was the animalistic part of her that enjoyed it more than her own.

Captive again I knew I shouldn’t have fucking let you gain control! Nikita's voice though still weak rang out loudly filling Cammy’s mind as she winced. With all her might Camille banished the beast spirit to the far corners of her mind. She didn’t have the luxury of worrying about Nikita being pissed she had to watch her captor closely.

Each time the poor girl found the courage to say something her mouth fell open then closed shut quickly. Glimpses of what had happened with her old Master when she angered him halted her quick tongue. The seconds passed achingly slower than ever before as she stole small glimpses of the man. She could still feel the shadow of his weight on top of her as she bit down on her lower lip, catching the plush flesh between her teeth. The man’s half-blind gaze met hers for a brief moment before she could downcast her eyes.

“Quiet for a captive,” he stated. “Done pleading already?”

Camille’s icy gaze met his own, “I have been through this before I know pleading will get me no closer to my freedom than I already was.” Pulling the furs tightly around her naked body as a cold chill ran up her spine.

“Why do you want to be free? What’s so pluckish about that anyway? You’re no more free in my custody then you are under a government or the laws of nature,” He scoffed in return. His tone dripped with bitter ire and sarcasm. “Or did that little outburst of your feral side not teach you that?”

Her pale cheeks painted red not with embarrassment but with anger as her eyebrows drew together. “I didn’t mean to kill your men but I probably did those girls a favor by killing them,” her voice holding a snarky tone. “Plus it wasn’t like I was the one in control,” she murmured under her breath before tearing her gaze away from the silver haired man.

“Perhaps,” he whimsically added. “But you’ll serve in their place. This world is nothing but cause and effect, dear. Something I’ll carve into your mind when I’m done with you.”

Camille saluted sarcastically to the man rolling her eyes, “you deal with one psycho path you deal with them all.” Not even two hours into captivity and she was already missing the solitude she had even on the verge of death.

The assassin shook his head. “You couldn’t be any more wrong.” He clambered over to her to put his face close to hers. “You see, I’m not so delusional as to expect you to become completely subservient. That would only make you resent me. No, see, if you want freedom, you can have it, but on my terms.”

He pulled away and slumped against the far side of the wagon. “After you’ve paid your debt of course.”

Camille’s angelic features were masked with the look of confusion, “what’s your name? Can I know that?” She quipped quickly, his response to her stereotype statement peaked her interest a little.

“That depends,” the man responded. “Are you going to put up a fight, or do as you’re told?”

Camille pursed her lips briefly pondering her reply, “that depends on exactly what I am told to do.” She eyed him up and down cautiously as she had realized this man isn't any ordinary man.

“Oh, you’re not going to like it. But you can’t honestly expect to pay back all those lost lives with good intentions, can you?” His tone grew cold and stern. “So what will it be, mutt? Hard way, or my way?”

Camille’s jaw clenched at the word mutt as her gaze hardened. She knew the hard way would only get her wounded more but she wasn't a common whore like those other woman.

“Your way,” she said her voice monotone before looking down at her feet. This was the second time a man had broken her will.

“Good. You’ll prefer that over the alternative. My name is Lye. You may use that instead of ‘master’.” He chuckled. “Or whatever you’d like to call me.”

Lye cocked his head to the side. “And what name would you like to be called?”

Camille refrained her quick tongue from lashing out with a smart remark. Sighing softly she curled closer to the furs to capture as much warmth as she could.

“Camille my name is Camille,” she stated.

[Lye]

The wagon carried on through the wintery path. Free from the valley, biting winds threatened to steal any and all heat it could. Icy gales peeled warmth from the men as they cracked the reins. The tough Salvic horses cried out in the blizzard, each breath a mighty cloud of smoke from their nostrils. As they continued on, the snow crested ridge of trees silhouetted the horizon through the thick haze of snow.

“Sir!” the driver shouted over the whistling winds. “We’ve approached the forest!”

"Good!” Lye shouted back. “Light the lanterns and evoke the wards!”

“Yessir!” The driver gripped the reins and stood for a brief moment. His shadow danced on the flapping canvas as lanterns illuminated in an eerie green light. Moment’s later, the driver sat and pulled an unknown object from a chamber beside him. Immediately, a dull, heavy aura filled the air and the howling winds became muffled.

“Have you heard of Dark Crawlers, girl?” Lye asked Camille.

The girl simply shook her head her eyes shown with a sage-colored curiosity.

“The forest this far north contains hundreds of them. Relics of a time long before the Tap shattered when these frigid lands were still lush and green.” The assassin peered past the canvas for a brief moment before shuffling to lash the fabric tight to the wagon’s frame. “The orcs that live this far north have a legend about this forest. They call it Arughk Fashnah. In their language, it means The Rite of Exile.”

Lye sat back down, this time at her feet with his back against several stacked crates.

“They send their exiles here to die. The forest is pitch black. The snow has formed an icy shell atop the canopy and these Dark Crawlers use the darkness to hunt. They are creatures which should not exist in this world. Mages from the War of the Tap created these abominations as weapons of war. When their master’s perished at Saint Denebriel’s hands, these things remained.”

Lye looked to Camille with his verdant gaze -- one eye crisp as emerald, the other foggy as jade. His expression mimicked grey stone and his voice flattened to a serious tone.

“They’re like spiders, but their bodies are darker than the void itself. Any light that would cast a shadow is consumed by them. They are perfect hunters here, but worst off is the way in which they kill. Their bodies are everything the Tap isn’t. I’ve seen them bite through rock like air and cleave a century old redwood with a single swipe of their appendages.”

Camille was engrossed with the story, her unwavering gaze intense. “Holy shit,” she mumbled softly waiting for Lye to continue.

“They don’t need to eat, nor hunt, but it is all they know to do. The more they consume, the bigger they get until they hit a certain point. I’ve seen it only once, but these brood mothers drop globs of strange inky goo. Not moments later, they sprout legs. Like children. The adults use an old magic to create orbs of light. They use them to lure those who are lost. Then, before their prey has a chance to run, they swarm it until nothing is left. Look.”

As he finished, Lye pointed to the canvas wall. Shadows danced along the surface and through the thick fabric, bright spots like stars shone through the trees. The canvas parted slightly where it met the wood frame. Through it, only what seems like a midnight sky could be seen though the distance. The faint glow of the wagon’s lanterns gave vague details of bark and inky black which seemed to writhe and squirm.

“Our camp is settled against a sharp cliff, in the midst of this forest,” Lye continued. “You can run or leave whenever you like, but the Dark Crawlers will find you long before you can get your bearings in the darkness. Pray that the Brood Mothers are nesting this hour and we make it through the forest before nightfall.”

A shiver ran down Camille's spine as she eyed the shadowy creatures before looking back at Lye. “Thanks for the scary story but I'm not leaving especially naked and not knowing where I am, I am a little smarter than you think.”

“But is your other half?” Lye inquired with a whimsy. “I’d hate to see a treat like yourself go to waste. Tell me, how long have you been…” The assassin gestured to her entirety.

Camille arched a slender eyebrow, “you wanna know my backstory?”

“I’ve never seen an albino werewolf. Female, nonetheless. I’ve heard males can become so territorial the females often don’t survive. So, yes, I’d like to know more about the creature that will be serving me and my men.” His eyes invasively ran down the length of her body, hidden beneath the furs. He had already seen her exposed in her entirely. Thus, no effort needed to be expelled to recall the details of her curvature.

[darkest.desires.]

Camille shivered under his intense gaze, she knew that look and it was not a look she enjoyed him giving her so openly. It left a bad taste in her mouth with him just saying she would be serving him but when he added his men her stomach flipped in knots. Her nerves threatening to expel the contents in her stomach.

Nevertheless she forced that all down before breathing in deeply, glancing from him to the green colored lighting that allowed shadows to dance across the canvas. “I grew up like a normal kid, mom, dad and my twin brother. We moved a lot because when my father’s wolf came out he would get hostile and out of control so we were hunted a lot. How most lycan work you and your wolf are mostly in sync a few times where you both bump heads but always understanding one another.”
Clearing her throat she glanced briefly at Lye before continuing, “well my connection first kind of severed when I found my parents slaughtered in our cabin we were living in at the time. That is where I got this scar,” she pulled back one of the pelts to reveal her left side, a large ugly scar marred her otherwise perfect sun-kissed skin. He looked at it indifferently and his lip flared slightly in disgust or disapproval, she wasn’t sure.

Pulling the fur back over her naked body before his eyes could wonder of the curve of her exposed ample side breast or the round shape of her ass. “After that me and my lycan spirit, Nikita is her name, never could really see eye to eye. She was always so bloodthirsty that I barely shifted but when I did it was like uncaging a beast that had been locked away for centuries. Usually I could always gain control back until-”

Her voice faltered for a moment before clearing her throat and pulling the pelts tightly around her for comfort. “Until my twin brother James was killed, Nikita lost her other half and I lost mine. She went crazy killing anything and everything I didn’t get control back until weeks later by then so much blood had already been spilt there was nothing I could do.”

“Interesting,” Lye mumbled under his breath. His eyes narrowed and he rubbed at the stubble of his chin.

Sighing she shrugged, “as for my coloring it is very rare I have never met another white lycan. My mother used to say it was because James and I were twins. The complete opposite like yin and yang. He was quiet and thoughtful, always articulate and serious. I used to be free spirited, not a single care in the world. That was a long time ago and I don’t know where that girl has gone because she isn’t here any more.” Camille paused glancing at Lye her cheeks flushed with colors as she had spilt her entire life story or mostly the jist of it.

She had used her captor as a confidante and not even noticed it until it was all out there for him to do with as he pleased. Running a flustered hand through her tangle, matted honey brown locks. Careful not to meet his fierce gaze for too long. She didn’t like feeling like he had the upper hand with her which he certainly did in every way.

“So you’re alone? No family? Good. Much less complicated that way.” The assassin breathed deeply and turned his attention to the glimmering lights in the forest’s darkness. “I think I'm going to like your other half.”

Camille rolled her eyes, “I'm sure you two will get along smashingly when she isn't trying to rip your throat out.” Her tone dripping with sarcasm, her fingertips grazing over the wolf pelt.

Good going you ignorant broad he knows all about us, Nikita’s tone was harsh but barely a whisper. Cammy sighed with defeat her hands still stroking the fur, with in a way it was comforting or therapeutic.

“Where are we going exactly?” The question fell from her lips without a second thought. “I mean where am I being taken to? What do you intend me to do there.”

The question itself weighed heavy on her heart. Her chest tight with anxiousness as she glanced up at her captor.

[Lye]

He didn’t respond to her, not immediately. The rustling of creatures nearby caught his full attention and his hand hovered above the hilt of his weapons. The caravan continued and the groaning gurgle of the apparent threat faded in the distance. He settled and turned to her.

“To my camp,” he replied. “And as far as my intent, that’s not so easy to describe. In short, we’re going to get that beast inside you under control. The methods of which I’m still contemplating.”

His head fell to the side as he watched her.

“You were a slave once already. Given your looks, I might assume sexual? Or more of the house maid variety?”

Cammy chewed on the bottom of her lip, the thought bringing back painful memories that were indeed still fresh.

“All, mostly fed off of and for entertainment use. My old Master took the term pet to an extreme level.” Glancing at him before down at her hands staring at them intently. The vivid memory of him breaking each one of her fingers and making her eat food made for a house dog turned her stomach.

Her plush lips formed a thin line, her eyes starting to water as a metallic taste filling her mouth. “I'm gonna be sick,” she warned before lunging for the back of the wagon.

Her stomach turning as she held her head out rear, gagging and sputtering as her body tried to upheave its stomach contents. One hand gripping onto the pelt wrapped around her body as the other holding open the canvas.

She felt a sharp pain as her head wrenched back by her hair. He threw her down into the furs and pressed his hand against her mouth. With a finger pressed to his lips for her not to scream, Lye cautiously looked through the hole in the canvas she had just used. The lights in the distance scampered and gathered in one area and began to keep pace with the wagon. He took his hand from her slimy mouth and quickly tied the canvas back into place.

“What was that?” The driver whispered.

“Nothing, keep driving. Pick up the pace.” Lye replied as he crawled over Camille to the rear of the caravan. He peered through a slit in the canvas and the wood. More of the eerie lights had taken to the road behind them. Several hovered above where she had spilled her stomach, while the others followed behind. Lye turned around to his captive with a snarl on his face.

“So now you’ve killed my men and dumped half digested bits of them in the streets while alerting the Dark Crawlers of our presence.” His tone was harsh, but left his lips in a hoarse whisper. “Keep yourself together or I’ll add your skin to that pile. Are we clear?”

Camille nodded using the back of her hand to wipe her mouth,”I'm sorry..” Her voice soft yet sincere.

“First lesson,” he continued. He pulled a mythril khukri from his thigh, grabbed her hand, yanked it open and slapped the knife in her palm. “Stop apologizing. It show weakness. You might need this. Do I need to remind you what will happen if you get any great ideas?”

Her body jolted slightly at the cold metal in her hand. She looked from the knife to him before shaking her thread slowly, “no.”

“Good.” Lye looked up to the silhouette of his driver. “How much farther?” he asked.

“Few scores.”

“Gun it.” Lye ordered. The crack of the reins forced the horses to whinnie. The cart surged, Lye catching himself on a crate before he fell atop Camille. Guttural howls and hallowed screams erupted all around them like a symphony of startled birds. Suddenly, the top of their wagon vanished as an inky appendage swiped it clean off.

Camille’s face held nothing but pure shock and horror as she pressed herself flat against the wagon floor. Lye’s eyes darted around, trying to anticipate where another blow might come. His hand sat on Camille’s back, trying to keep her down lest she lose her head. Another appendage whipped at the crate beside them, leaving a perfect crescent in its wake. Pieces of what were once complete iron ingots spilled out into the street below.

“Hang on,” Lye chanted, focusing on the faint light in the distance. “We’re almost th--shit!”

He ducked low as a wine of darkness swept over head. A thud sounded beside them where the driver’s head gazed lifelessly at the two of them. Lye jutted up to see just the hips and legs, the rest of the body gone merely by contact. He shuffled to the front of the cart and snagged the reins just moments before they slipped free. Lye kicked the driver’s remnants over the side as it quickly vanished in the writhing darkness behind them. Lye cracked the reins, light growing quickly ahead.

Closer, closer, closer…

The cart suddenly surged and tilted downward. The yoke splintered and snapped under the stress sending the horses careening forward as the cart dragged itself roughly through the path. Lye gripped on the wooden frame and with the last of their inertia, they burst through the clearing and into the frigid daylight of a clearing. With a groan and a crackle, the remnants of the wagon came to a halt. Glowing lights danced and swarmed by the forest’s mouth, but stayed within the confines of the darkness. One by one, the glowing orbs faded and broke away until only the pitch black remained.

“You alive?” Lye called out to the bundled mess that was Camille.

[darkest.desires.]

Camille’s chest heaved up and down with heaviness, her half morphed claws dug deep into the wooden floor of the wagon. Her mouth slightly ajar as she panted, her gaze tearing away from the tree line to Lye. Her mouth tried to form words but failed her, “I-” Shaking her head repeatedly her body seemed to tremble uncontrollably.

“You’re fine,” he stated. From the bloodied seat of the wagon, Lye hopped down. He walked around and offered her a hand. “We’re here, come on.”

His hand easy swallowed her own as she got off the wagon, her knees wobbling under their own weight. A large fur wrapped around her body to hidden the exposure that was underneath. Camille’s gaze darting all around, the walls wooden a large, the peaks shaved into a point. Guard towers peppered the perimeter with arches at the ready. They seemed to be at the base of a mountain, her eyes then danced from the faces of many men that drank in her appearance. Most licked their lips with a hungry lust, the few woman she did see that freckled the crowd looked detached from any type of feelings, their face hardened with no expression.

The buildings looked as if the were ripped out of the pages of the history books she had read of the viking area. Camille’s stomach turned as she gazed back at one of the men he eyed her up and down like a piece of fine meat. Taking a deep breath Camille forced herself to stand taller, straighter. She wasn’t going to let these men intimidate her, well their leader or whatever he was; Lye did but these others would not.

Glancing over at the silver haired man she moved closer towards him. She would take her chances with this one before the rest. She knew a little bit about him but these other animals eyed her with lust and greed.

“Get a good look,” Lye whispered into her ear. “You’ll be getting to know this place and its men quite well.”

He walked past her to the first cart. Unlike theirs, it was still in one piece. From the back, one of the drivers pulled a frail looking brunette by chains which bound her hands and feet. He jerked her to the silver haired man and they said something to one another Camille couldn’t make out. Then, he punched the girl in the stomach and she crumpled into the snow. The driver lifted her over his shoulder and disappeared through the gates.

Lye turned to Camille. “Come,” he beckoned. “Let’s get you something to wear.”

Cammy strained herself from snarling at the abuse that was openly given. Her heart ached for the woman and it was etched all over her face. She chewed on the inside of her cheek before scurrying after the silver haired man.

“This must be hell on Earth,” Camille mumbled to herself. Lye walked with purpose and briskly, poor Camille’s weak legs could barely keep up.

If any of those grubby bastards think they are gonna touch us I'll rip their fucking stubs off. Nikita’s voice filled her head but this time Camille agreed completely.

She knew she was there to take the woman’s places that Nikita had slaughtered but she was not going to be something for men to stick their cocks in and abuse she had done that once already with one Master. Taking a shaky breath, following her new Master down the street.