Mated With Blood: 2

The walls around me are cold and empty. Even after eighteen years I can't bring myself to become used to this cage. I was forcefully put here the day I was born. It seems my crime is my sole existence itself.

I can hear the footsteps from one of the guards. They belong to the one named- number 26. He is the one that brings me food everyday. After being locked for eighteen years I could distinguish each footstep from every guard individually. I can hear him closing the distance to my cell. He placed the tray on the ground and kicked it towards me. While doing so, some of the food fell from the plate on the cold stinky ground. He laughed.

"What are you laughing at, slave?" I pierced him with cold stern. Even though he was one of the Larics himself, to me he was only a slave. Maybe I don't know my exact origins and who exactly my parents are but each wolf is gifted with a natural instinct on knowing their own rank and the rank of the other wolfs. This Laric is unmistakably from the lower rank than myself. I knew he could feel this as well.

He stopped laughing and looked at my direction as If he knew exactly where I was standing. Which was creepy since he was blind. All of the Larics that were assigned to come down here and tend to my needs were blind. Precisely there is five of them who are chosen to keep me alive and all five of them have their eyes taken out of them. The Original Werewolf didn't want any male to have a look at me. Weirdly, It made sense. With their scarily good smell and hearing they didn't need to look at me. They always knew where I was and what I was doing. Even though I knew they didn't blame their Master for being ripped out of their sight. No. They blamed me.

"I am not the who is held prisoner in here" He spitted out.

I ignored his words. "Kneel and eat the food you spilled. The one on the ground. Slave" I ordered with a natural arrogance I possessed. I couldn't force him to obey me but I wanted to show him the audacity I had. Even after all those years.

He was shocked at my words. "The greater insult than being locked in here is being forced to communicate with someone who's only purpose of being born- is to serve me. Do you understand slave? This is decided not by anyone's order but by blood." I sighed and waved with my hand in a dismissed way. Even without a sight I knew that the message came across. Larics were sensitive even to the smallest vibrations and waving with my hand must have felt like a hurricane to him.

I could feel his presence for a few more moments. He was probably debating himself, If he should say something or not. Eventually he walked away. Considering he was no other than a Laric himself- he must have felt great discomfort being treated this way. After all, after the Original Werewolf, Larics held the greatest power- greater than that of an Alpha himself.

This made me wonder- who the heck was I then? It wasn't even be logically explainable to be an higher rank than that of an Alpha. But to be the higher rank than that of an Laric- is pure madness. The only way that would be possible is if I am a child of an Original Werewolf. But no father, no matter how cruel, would keep their own child, with no sin whatsoever, locked for their whole lifetime. So this theory doesn't stick up.

The Original Werewolf. Oh, how I hated this man. He was the reason for my suffering and I have never even seen HIm. If I was ever to meet Him, I would rip His throat out. The smile formed on my lips. Probably I wouldn't even manage to approach Him but the idea itself made my heart race with joy.

I could hear another footsteps approaching the cell. This one belonged to a number 30. He was yet another blind Laric whose company was at least bearable compared to the company of others.

"Sarai, how are you?" He asked with a genuine smile.

"Don't address me as If I was your homie. Never forget your place when you are in my presence." I hissed. He looked slightly taken aback by my harsh words. But calling me by my name was pushing a line for me.

"You are so much like Him." He stated. I assumed he meant "so much like my Master." Jaroslav Tacin. The Original Werewolf.

"But unlike me, He sleeps on a soft pillows in a warm bed." I said and there was a trace of a slight jealousy in my words and I hoped this dog didn't pick up on it.

For a moment he looked confused as he was debating himself, If he should say something or not. "Actually, no Miss. He lives in a cell much worse than this one. We all do"

This got my attention. "What? How is that possible?

"The whole castle is built the same way as this cell you are inside off. Every room, from the kitchen to the bathroom and living room is in the same condition as this cell, if not worse."

He abruptly paused. He seemed worried about sharing all of this information with me, as if it could get him in a trouble. But I was shocked and wasn't about to stop asking even more questions.

"Why?" Was all I managed to ask.

"Even before you were born we lived this way. Any kind of comfort would only soften us. Made us weak. Therefore no room in this palace is any different or larger than this cell you are living in." He paused yet again.

"But after you were born, Master became even more strict. No colors were allowed. No music and no laugher. Not even whispers. He made very clear that no one is allowed to have anything more than you have. If you sleep on a bed, we all sleep on the floor."

This was bull*shit. There is no way this was possible. According to him I was even privileged. More than anyone in this twisted pack of His.

"And since I eat this dog food... tell me Laric- what do you aet? Dog shit?" I smiled at my own sarcasm.

He didn't smile back. I guess he didn't find it as funny as I did. "Every day we have so called "Hunger Games". That is a competition for meal between every warrior in this pack. Only winner is allowed to eat ... whatever leftovers you left for that day." First time in my lifetime I was shocked.

"If I understood this correctly- only once per day is one of you allowed to eat and It can only be the Laric who won that day on a so called -competition-" I repeated his words and he nodded.

"And the winner eats my leftovers? That is the prize?" I asked in disbelief.

Now he looked hurt. "Not a prize. It is the only food we can get. It is a Life." He humbly said.

I couldn't help but laugh. "And what If there is no leftovers?" This was getting better by a second.

"Then there is no food. Nothing to eat."

"And what If someone never wins? How can that person survive?" I asked still in disbelief.

"He doesn't." I frowned at his response.

"Larics can endure a long time without food but If someone doesn't win in a period of a few months- he dies." He said as If I was dumb and needed further explanation.

"Has someone die yet?" I asked curiosity getting a better of me.

"Yes." The answer came from a different Laric and I immediately recognized number 26's voice. Another annoying blind Laric.

I looked behind number 30 in a direction of Laric number 26 and as always, his strict posture didn't display and of his emotions. He was the most reserved Laric I had encounter with. Not that I know all thirty of them. Till today I have only met merely about five.

"Is this why I haven't seen number 29 in such a long time?" I cruelly smiled. He was one of the five Larics that were assigned to bring medical supplies when I needed one. "Did he die trying to win my leftovers?" I smirked.

Number 26 chose to ignore my words and instead focused on a Laric number 30.

His next words were harsh. "You came to her without permission from the Master." He paused for a moment "She can be visited only three times a day. For food, clean clothes and for other supplies. Today you were not scheduled for neither of those three tasks."

He paused for what seemed like a decade "You know that 30! You fuc**ing know that!" He roared and it was terrifying to hear it.

"Please don't tell Him." Number 30 whispered covered with guilt. It was the first time in those eighteen years that I have seen him this scared.

"He already knows." The color on number 30's face faded away with those words.

"You know the punishment." Number 26 said with concerned voice.

"What is the punishment?" I intervened with my question. But he just angrily snapped his head in my direction.

"That yet one more has to die while the other one, that will take his place, has to be blinded. All because of you." He responded. I guess this means this is the last time I get to see number 30.

"Bad luck" I wasn't hiding amusement in my voice.

Number 26 looked at me, even though he couldn't see me, like he wanted to choke me. But I knew they were all forbidden from touching me. It was the highest commend and they all followed their commends like a faithful dogs they were. I didn't feel bad for number 30 though. Yes it wasn't his fault that I was locked in here and yes, he was nice to me. But he was nothing to me. I was incapable of having any real emotions towards any of them. Prisoner or not, their only purpose was to tend to my needs.

"I guess It's a shame I won't have anyone to grab anymore information now that you are going to die." I smiled looking at them both back and forward. I was enjoying this.

By my great surprise, number 30 didn't look hurt only mesmerized by my stoned heart. "She is so much alike Him, isn't she?" He stated more to himself than to anyone else.

"They both share incapability of compassion to another being. Other than that- He is much more worse." Number 26 exclaimed and I could smell fear radiating off of him.

This was the last time I saw number 30.

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- Only a Tacin, It seems, can truly love a Tacin.-