The Fifty-First Chapter
“The most traitorous wolves hide beneath a lamb’s cloak, Cyrill.”
Cyrill, despite Rozelyn’s warning that it will take an hour or two before he could move, managed to stand from the bed.
Rozelyn was astounded but she had already anticipated his actions.
“What did you say?” His voice was soft but deadly. “Are you accusing me, Rozelyn?”
But Rozelyn didn’t see it coming. She didn’t see the slap from Cyrill’s mighty hand that had made her lose balance due the strong impact of his slap.
With all her strength, she managed her face to stay upright and not fall on the floor. She managed to hold her chin high as she faced Cyrill again.
Her throat bobbed. But, she did not allow herself to look like a meek mouse in his eyes.
“You heard what I said. It is what it says it is.” She then patted her right cheek that was still swollen due to the Pasiphae Werewolf’s slap.
She was about to slap him back as well but his other hand caught her.
“Let me go! You son of a bitch!” She shrieked.
Cyrill’s eyes widened. And, as if something was controlling him, he pinned her down on the floor and wrapped both of his mighty hands around her neck.
Rozelyn was choking and couldn’t breathe. She made various pleading and muffled noises but Cyrill kept on tightening his hands around her slender neck.
She kept choking and choking. Air could no longer enter her lungs. And, without any choice, she yeeted him with her Thaumaturge gift. Cyrill was slammed into his own bedroom door and groaned in pain.
She stood and gasped for breath. She coughed blood and Cyrill was still trying to stand but he couldn’t.
In a heartbeat, their eyes met. Both of them were shocked and could not even fathom what they had just done to each other.
***
Romaine had finished making this precious potion of hers with the help of a Blood Witch friend.
“You’re tired, dear Cy?”
Cyrill jerked his head to her and covered his mouth as he yawned. “Yes, Romaine.”
“Here, drink it. It will give you a nice, calm sleep.”
Cyrill took the glass from her. It looks just like water, and tastes like one too. She smiled at him. He certainly is oblivious to what is in the drink that she just gave him.
“Have a nice sleep, sweetie.”
But, he was now snoring. She brushed her hand on his forehead. Romaine took a glance at the bulging manhood in his pants. She smiled and leaned in to whisper to his ears.
“Have a nice fight with Roz as I end the life of her father’s bestfriend.” Romaine then gave her adoptive son a soft and ‘motherly’ kiss on his lips.
She gave his bare chest one last look as she closed his door and prepared for her trip to that virgin forest.
***
“Did you just accuse me of being in league with the Blood Witches, Rozelyn?!”
Rozelyn didn’t yield an answer as she took a deep breath. “I didn’t say anything like that. It’s YOU who gives a conclusion to that!”
Cyrill gave her a breathy, shaky laugh. “It seems you are thinking of that even though I am not a fucking Thaumaturge like you who can read minds!”
She shook her head and wiped the blood from her lips that she just coughed. It stained her face even further,
“If it wasn’t true, Cyrill, then why the heck are you so angry about that?” She said with raised brows and an utterly serious face.
“As I said, it is very much impossible as I have abstained from sex for the past few weeks. Also, I am not—I am not like you who loves entering different men!”
“It’s a part of a vampire’s regimen!”
“Is it?!” Cyrill then gave her a challenging stare.
“It is. Why do you think you are easily affected by a witch’s power? It is because you haven’t feeding your body with flesh and lust and sexual activities…”
He tore his gaze away from her; his back facing her.
“You’re a carrion.”
Rozelyn didn’t manage to see that again as the door opened wide and Cyrill threw her out, with her head hitting the stairs’ railing. Blood gushed out from her nose and from her forehead.
“Accuse me again and I will show you that, even though you’re a useless Thaumaturge who calls herself the most powerful vampire to ever live, you have no power over a werewolf who had been eating flesh for years.”
Yet, before Cyrill could grab her hair, she managed to use her powers and froze his hand in mid-air. A smirke was visible on her face.
“I am not just a Thaumaturge…” She said as Cyrill’s face was visibly oozing with fury. “I also have a blood of a werewolf.”
And Cyrill was now tumbling down the stairs with a wave of Rozelyn’s hand. He landed on the edge of the stairs with his knees. It was so painful that he yelled repeatedly in pain.
Rozelyn watched at the top of the stairs. Blood and tears were both flowing from her eyes. “Taste the wrath of the Amalgam, poor adopted son!”
He heard it and his rage was now in control of him. “So be it.”
His knees then quickly healed. Cyril rushed towards Rozelyn up the stairs. He sprinted to the top of the stairs like he was just playing football.
Rozelyn halted him again in mid-air; his body floating. But, he managed to break free and kicked Rozelyn’s face. She landed on the floor and broke her neck.
‘Shit!’ She summoned all her healing powers and mended her fractured neck. But Cyrill’s strong hands greeted her neck instead—wrapped around her slender neck to squeeze all the air from her.
She slapped and punched again and again. But the werewolf’s strength was stronger, much indomitable compared to her.
Light flashed on her eyes and Cyrill was now in his wolf form. “Die you whore of a bitch!”
Yet, a small voice in her head told her to stop fighting instead. So she did.
Rozelyn calmed and stopped punching and kicking her feet. She just let his claws dig deeper into her throat.
Rozelyn whispered to Cyrill’s mind via her telepathic abilities and said, “I am yours…do what you want. If that gives you happiness.”
Cyrill seemed to come to his senses and saw Rozelyn beneath him, unconscious and unmoving.
He waited for a minute if she was still moving before he released her. But as soon as his hands left her neck, she slammed him onto the wall with the air magic that flows in her veins and pinned him to it.
“Wake up, Cyrill!” She slapped his face repeatedly. “Wake the fucking up!!!”
She was about to slap him again but he halted her hand. “I am, Roz.”
And just like that, his lips drowned into her and they kissed. Soft at first, but it eventually becomes deeper and more passionate.
They were still kissing when Romaine and Dorrien rushed on top of the stairs. No words came out from their mouths as Romaine witnessed her stepdaughter and adoptive son kissing on the upstairs wall—both drenched in blood, tears, and sweat.
