Don't Try To Make Me Feel Bad

For the longest while after he had nearly ripped the head off of the corpse, Alastor sat staring at the remains of Kefka, blood from the clown brute dripping from his jaws while his own crimson flow dripped down his muzzle and foreleg. The animal inside his brain rejoiced, prancing about and howling its violent triumph. Abyssal black eyes shone with a glee he hadn't felt in a long time, not since he'd killed his own father or slaughtered all those suitors for Lurid. It was the revelry of a madman. The beast inside wanted to do more, to rip open Kefka's chest and devour his heart, to piss on his remains like a signature on a gory piece of macabre art, to skin him and fly his pelt like a flag above Elysium. But as the bloodlust began to ebb away and bits of his consciousness returned to grapple with his instincts, Alastor felt semblances of control return to him once more, and the demon wolf just sat there while he caught his breath.

The sound of determined steps came closer, and though Alastor didn't turn, he knew it was Relm. The only reaction he gave the young girl was the flick of a black ear, but otherwise his stygian gaze remained on his latest masterpiece. He didn't see her face, couldn't read her reactions. Would she be horrified by what he had done? Thankful for saving her from being raped and likely impregnated by her own father? Would she hate him for killing her only family left? Turns out, it was none of the above. He heard Relm sigh as if this was little more than an annoyance to her and she told him to just leave the body, that she'd handle it. Alastor ran his tongue over his bloody lips, still grinning but no longer laughing as he had been. The joke had been told, the punchline delivered, and now the joker was dead. A fitting end.

Alastor opened his mouth to try and reply with what little control he had gotten back—but he made the mistake of taking a deep breath through his nose. Relm's heat scent punched him in his senses like running into a solid brick wall. All at once, Alastor felt those thin fraying tethers holding his sanity together beginning to snap. The animal that had started to calm after killing Kefka was once more enticed back to life by the smell of the female in estrus. His self-control, which had been tested since the day her season had started, was rapidly slipping away, already worn thin by his bloodlust, and now other lusts were about to wrench control away from him. Obsidian eyes snapped over to Relm at his side, gazing at her with a gleam of conflict in those irises. They weren't empty like Kefka's had been—quite the contrary, they blazed with a dark fire while he looked at the girl, fighting back instincts hardcoded into his genetics over thousands of years of evolution. The predator in his brain snarled with need. She was a young, nubile fae, fertile and in season. Already images of ravaging her, claiming her, tasting her mouth and other parts of her, his teeth in her flesh and blood on his tongue, extinguishing her heat and putting his pups in her belly were flashing in his mind. How would black, red, pink, and white all look together? There was only one way to find out...

The dire brute gnashed his teeth together and tore his gaze away from Relm, looking back at the mangled body of Kefka instead while he bit his tongue so hard he tasted fresh blood. He was doing everything in his power to remain in control and resist giving in to those instinctual urges. Oh, but she was right there and oh so close...! Alastor screwed his eyes shut, letting darkness overtake him while he fought the urges. Despite knowing that any pups he sired with her would be killed immediately, it didn't dissuade his aching body. Kefka hadn't finished with her—but maybe he could. "Leave, Relm." He spoke through gritted teeth, the extent of his strain obvious in his expression and deep voice. It would not take much to make those tethers come undone entirely. "Go find Manea. Get out of here now before..." Alastor could feel his heartbeat in his head, the tensions in his core growing unbearable. It was so strong that he feared if he so much as moved, he'd wind up pouncing on the girl and having his way with her. He needed to sate his lusts, and if Relm didn't leave, she'd be the one satisfying them.

"Alastor Mendacium"