TO TAME THE BRUTAL LYCAN BEAST-Chapter 25: A GOOD HUNT

AZRAEL

The second horn is blown, and the other door opens, releasing her opponents—also fighting for their lives—the three survivors from my little game with that malnourished girl.

After she had rushed out, I lost the taste for killing them, so I decided to give them a chance and make the next vetting ceremony more interesting.

They could be pardoned if they make today’s battle exciting... and win, of course.

Now three men, soldiers from their own packs, surround one girl with no fighting skill, aiming to tear her apart just to earn their freedom, despite the fact that four of them initially had the same cause: ridding the world of me.

And I’m the selfish one?

The third horn is blown, and the brawl begins.

They pounce without hesitation, morphing into their wolves to make it all the more brutally entertaining, hoping to save their necks.

Her horrified screams echo from the sand pit, accompanied by the sounds of ripping flesh, and the entire crowd goes wild. I avert my gaze elsewhere, letting out another tired sigh.

"This is the second time you’ve yawned, Sire." A soft, feminine voice speaks from my side.

I look down toward Calliope at my feet. Her soft, delicate hands work through the muscles in my feet, offering a massage that does nothing for me.

Her concerned eyes watch me.

"Does the bloody scene not intrigue you enough? We can get her hands bound so there’s less of a fight?" Elodie, at my left side, leaning on the armrest, offers with a smirk and her usual mischief, eager to please me.

I can tell she’s saying words she thinks I want to hear.

"Elodie!" Calliope chides.

"No, that’s not it." I cut into their bickering, not in the mood for their usual squabble. "That won’t make this exciting."

I doubt anything could make it remotely eye-catching, which is disappointing.

So much work was put into this to create the most gratifyingly horrific scene, to satiate my desire for chaos, yet I feel nothing—not even a sliver of excitement.

Instead, my eyes keep glancing toward the bleachers, where the concubines sit.

I go through them one by one, searching for a familiar face, for greenish-blue eyes that were shrouded in hate and disgust the last time I saw them.

The memory fills me with a sickening, discomforting feeling. I frown just from thinking about it.

"Perhaps you’ve lost taste for the vetting process." Yara finally comments, always the last to speak, carefully choosing her words to hide her resentment toward me and that fiery, searing temper of hers behind her pretty mask.

But I see right through it, feeling it oozing off every part of her.

Unlike the other two, fully submitted to me, fully devoted to my entertainment, knowing their lavish positions depend on it, Yara was always different.

Wise and cunning like a snake, yet not fully submitted, she held tightly to the crumbs of herself that still hated me, calling it pride—never once acting out on it because of her deep fear.

I know she’d never turn her back on me; she has been well trained, a rare, beautiful gem I just had to have in my collection. That hidden anger was one of the things that made her even more eye-catching.

I kept her by my side, closer than everyone else, for my own entertainment: to watch her swallow those filthy bits every day to serve me while enjoying favors she could never have on her own.

Until she began to enjoy them and hate her truly disgusting nature every day.

I smile her way, stretching out my hand for hers, which she willingly offers to me without hesitation. I pull her into my lap, and she makes no struggle—a complete devotee.

I lean closer to tease her skin, the nape of her neck, placing a delicate kiss there and watching her flinch only lightly. A soft sound leaves her lips.

It’s something I enjoy hearing in our most intimate moments, and yet recalling them now brings another image to mind—lips and skin that are not hers.

A body that is not as thick or voluptuous as hers, yet my body responds shamelessly.

I freeze, catching myself midway, instantly repulsed by my own thoughts. My smirk fades away too fast.

"Where is Eros?" I change the topic all of a sudden, unceremoniously shoving her off my lap and getting to my feet.

I can’t put enough distance between us fast enough. Surely I’ve finally begun to lose my mind.

Some crazy witch spoke of this moment years ago. She said living too long made the mind rot and hollow.

Of course, I killed her because of her tone and never took her seriously, but I’ll be damned—it’s finally happening after so many years.

And I know the cause behind all of this. All of this nonsense began when she showed up: that goddess’ spy with some kind of magic, surprisingly potent.

I scan the bleachers for the tenth time, confirming that she isn’t here. Way too much time has passed for her to be considered late. She isn’t coming at all.

After every horrible thing I’ve done to mess with her, after all her crying and quivering like a half-dead mouse, she still ignores my compulsory summon, defying me.

"Eros!" I roar, anger bubbling from deep in my chest.

He fizzles into existence from a cloud of smoke right beside me, falling on his knees instantly.

"Where is she?" I ask coldly. Confused eyes look back at me for a moment. "That rodent of a woman."

His eyes light up with recognition before dimming again.

"She’s not... present."

"I’m aware. I’m asking where she’s wandered off to."

He hesitates before speaking again. "Her maid reported her missing earlier, but there haven’t been any reports of a concubine attempting to cross through the gates," he confesses.

"No, she wouldn’t run." Not while she hasn’t completed her mission.

Whatever she hopes to gain from this must be important enough for her to have thrown her life away to find herself here.

And from the clear hints of defiance in her eyes, she wouldn’t leave—not yet. She’s nowhere close to being broken, the way I want her to be.

"I will search for her, Sire."

"No... I’ll find her. It’s been a long time since I enjoyed a good hide-and-seek game. This will be fun."