Hate by K.A Knight

Iroar and jerk from the magic in the chains from the moment my mate leaves my sight, my bull taking over. He wants her back, wants her touch and kisses, the gentle way she stroked his fur. He craves it, can’t settle without it, never mind the fact she might be in danger. It sends him over the edge, into a rage I have never seen before. Not even when she was alive. He was angry then but logical. Now? He is nothing more than a monster.

They must hear him or have been waiting for the unknown to be removed, because not thirty minutes after she is taken, the door opens, and a huddle of witches is blocking the light. Their hoods are up, concealing their faces, and the black material has a life of its own, moving when they move and never revealing what they seek to hide.

They step into the cell in unison. It is possible some were alive when I was, especially if they were dark witches and worked with blood magic and necromancy, but I haven’t seen any I recognise. Either way, they hate me. It is bred into them, I am the monster from their tales, the one who killed their queen and ended many of their lines. They even have a name for it, I heard it once—the great black death. So many witches died, and so many powers were lost to my sword and vengeance...now, here, their ancestors stand. Dark hate shines in their eyes and magic coats their hands as they face me, ready to exact vengeance for their lost.

I grin at them with a snarl. Bring it, I need to let out this aggression before Dawn is brought back anyway. They can be my bull’s playthings, a way to occupy his hate and mind as we wait for the return of our mate. I see the whirling of the light conjuring in their hands as they step farther into the cell and spread out in a half circle, their hands nearly joined, startling my bull as they begin to chant.

Fucking witches and their magic. Without it they are nothing…weaker than humans, and they know it. They rely on it, inspire fear and loyalty with it even as they present their hubris as their strength, but I know it and I don’t fear them. I have felt the touch of their magic and now the touch of my mate, and nothing or no one will entrap me again. She needs me, I need her.

They will die for trying to get between us.

I hear the stone behind me crack with the force of my determination and strength, giving the chains a little leeway. My bull snorts as they stop chanting for a moment, their energy permeating the air as they watch us strain to get to them. I throw my head back and roar, letting it shake the room, the force of it sending a gust of power towards them. They tumble to the floor like broken dolls as I feel the change come over my body, just like when Dawn needed it, only this time we are changing to full bull, the animal taking over completely. I feel myself become pushed to the back of his consciousness, I let him happen. He needs the bloodshed and violence more than me.

When our head is lowered, I have nothing human left, and I let them see that in my red eyes. My horns seem to grow and reach for them, my hooves smashing into the stone floor and ringing out like a fighting bell. My bull is daring them to come closer, to hit us.

They do.

Magic is flung at me from all angles, but something strange happens...some of it bounces off. Some of it sinks into my fur and skin and muscle below, making us bellow in pain, but some of it seems to be repelled, hitting my fur and then rebounding back to the caster, striking them instead. I don’t have time to ponder that, because we are moving. They got sloppy with their casting, relying on their magic to take me down, and now they are close.

Too close, within my range. It will be their deaths.

I ram forward, impaling two on my horns, tossing my head around and ripping their insides. I feel their blood coating my head and face and my bull snorts and charges, tossing them aside. Ignoring their screams and the scent of their deaths on the air, we aim for the others. One of the smart ones backs away and starts throwing magic, but I use her sisters as a shield and it hits them. She yells and bangs on the door, trying to open it as we roar and rip our way through their masses.

The cell lights up with their magic and the sound of screams. Blood, piss, and shit coat the air as they realise they willingly walked themselves into a trap with death. A beast, one that is carelessly shredding them to pieces.

They don’t stand a chance. My bull snorts in pleasure as I split one of their stomachs open and they shriek and fall under my hooves. I smash one’s head, feeling it squelch under me. Pausing, chest heaving, and smoke curling from my nose, I look around at the bodies littering the cell. Some of them are trying to heal themselves, one of them is attempting to crawl to the door with no legs, and there is one still untouched. Her hands are still pressed to the door, her face against it as she sobs as if not looking at the monster, at me, will make me not real.

“Please, please, no, please, oh great mother, hear my pleas. Protect me with your bright, guiding light,” she begs, her voice cracking and small, like a child.

“Your prayers won’t save you,” I tell her, voice garbled, but she hears me.

She whimpers, pressing closer to the door, repeating the prayer again and again, louder and louder as she hears me drawing closer. The chain stops me before I can reach her and my bull roars in anger, wanting her blood, wanting her cries of fear. She came here to hurt us, kill us, stop us from protecting our mate. She must die.

“Oh, little witch…” I laugh, the sound like a roar and she whimpers, flattening herself against her only exit. “Come out and playyyyy.”

“Our bright mother, darkness unbound, come upon me,” she cries.

My bull recedes slightly, letting me change our mouth and face back so I can talk. “Little witch,” I rasp in a human voice, and she shivers like she fears that more than my animal, interesting. “Your great mother has deserted you. You are weak, shivering in terror. At least your coven went to death with pride, facing their fear while you whimper and hide. What would they think of you now?” I laugh, spreading my arms to encompass her dead people. Some are still sucking in stuttering breaths to try and stay alive.

“Moo-ther, please, save me from this certain death,” she whispers.

“Oh, bright mother,” I mock, stepping forward as far as I can to reach her, my arm outstretched and brushing her hood. “Save me!” I cry and then chuckle. “She didn’t save your coven, she didn’t even save your vile, fucking demented ancestors as I ripped through them and left them to choke on their blood.”

She stops talking, breathing heavily now, and I sense her fear retreat slightly, morphing to anger. Ah, yes, that’s what we want. So I carry on, throwing out barbs at her people and she turns with a cry, her hand held outright, flinging the last of her magic at me as she steps forward. We watch as the bright blue and black orb hits my chest and then seems to melt into the floor. Her mouth flops open, her eyes wide as she watches me.

“But how? That was death magic, I threw my own life into it...you couldn’t…”

I don’t care how, only that she is close enough to reach now. Close enough to kill. I grab her as she screams for mercy and tear her in two, throwing the parts to the side, then I just stand there amongst the bloodshed and death and wait for my mate.

My bull needs to let something else out now, something much, much stronger and much more deadly—lust. All that hate and blood lust is turning into pure desire, until our body flicks between animal and human as we roar in need for our mate.

Dawn.