Lielit
Our existence might be ancient, but it was precarious. No matter what civilisation was linked to animal spirits or transformation, there was little to no evidence left of us in the modern world. A deep sense of sorrow washed over me at the loss.
It also made me realise that had it not been for Fenrir biting me, then Bouda would never have answered the call to a perceived threat. Our ancient enemy revived us. There was some twisted irony in it all.
Then there was Blaidd.
A walking, talking abomination who wore the skin of a human.
I stopped sneaking into the garage by the second day.
Anthony had a slow, painful, and gruesome death.
Yet Blaidd never once brought that version of himself past the garage door.
I glanced at the image of a hyena, which dated back 30,000 years ago. We were both survivors. Powerful during some periods, and judging by the life Fenrir and Blaidd had carved out for themselves, they believed dominance was the same thing as legacy.
One prostitute at a time in Blaidd’s case.
I slapped the laptop shut.
God. He really had no idea how fucking irritating his honesty could be.
You know he practically gags at the scent of a human woman now, right? Bouda interjected.
Yeah, I sighed. All thanks to Fenrir.
I smiled and stared at the clock on the fireplace, wondering if he would notice if I set all the clocks in the house one minute ahead.
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He stared at his watch before glancing at the kitchen clock with a frown.
“What did you think of my family?” I asked, stabbing a piece of broccoli on my fork.
At least if he was going to feed me greens, he knew how to season them.
“Have I done something recently that's… irritated you?” he asked carefully, ignoring my question.
Hmm. He’s onto you, Bouda murmured.
“Mm. Not that I can think of. Why? Do you have a guilty conscience about something?”
His head swivelled around so fast that it made me suspicious.
“What have you done?” I asked, pointing my fork at him.
You two are absolutely absurd, Bouda said. Actual nutjobs, I believe that is the correct term.
I ignored her. He was up to something, and no one could tell me any differently.
“It’s a surprise,” he said stiffly before slicing into his beef fillet.
I relaxed.
At least he’d stopped looking at the clock.
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My babies were often used as a table. They were especially handy as a book rest. I peered over the book to watch Blaidd whip his shorts off. He folded them in half, then again, before placing them on the chair.
“I thought you said you were tired tonight,” he asked with an arched eyebrow.
“I am,” I said, closing my book.
“Not when you're looking at my dick like that,” he muttered, sliding into bed.
“A girl can look, can't she?”
I placed my book on the nightstand and waited for him to switch off the lamp.
“How am I supposed to learn all these strange rules?” he asked, plunging the room into darkness.
“Don’t take my grandmother's words to heart,” I said with a grin.
“She’s a mean old woman,” he murmured, moving closer.
“I’m sure you're traumatised.”
“Maybe you can help me get over my… trauma,” he whispered, his lips moving from my cheek to my neck.
He didn't give me a chance to respond as he began to work my body, leaving me no choice.
It wasn't until much later, and I was nodding off, that I realised he’d never give up his wicked ways.
But I wasn't sure that I wanted him to.
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The worst part of being taken wasn’t the physical aspect. I’d always known Bouda was with me, and that Blaidd would come for us.
It was Anthony Hanson’s words and the images they planted that followed me into my dreams.
I woke most nights with a violent jolt, drenched in sweat, the echoes of his threats still crawling through my head.
Blaidd would curse his name as I dissolved into tears, helpless against thoughts I couldn’t control.
This was why he hadn’t bargained with Hanson—not for his services, not for promises of future intervention.
Blaidd’s world was filled with influential people, and very few of them were decent.
I couldn’t stop thinking about men who hurt children. About cases buried in sealed files, investigations quietly abandoned, truths only uncovered after the perpetrators were long dead. The knowledge existed. That was the cruelty of it—not ignorance, but silence.
Blaidd doubled my security. Two guards. A driver. It didn’t stop the vigilance that followed me everywhere. I scanned rooms. Noted exits. Listened for footsteps. I told myself it would ease with time—or when the babies came.
Fenrir soothed me in ways words never could.
He shifted more often, pressing close, as if proximity alone could protect us.
If he could have lain over me entirely, he would have.
The wolf was obsessed with my growing belly.
Blaidd said Fenrir could feel their life force.
His excitement was simple, honest—and it warmed something fragile inside me.
Fenrir showed me what he felt without hesitation.
Blaidd, for all his power, had yet to learn how to do the same.