But my blood boiled beneath the surface of my skin.
It demanded I pay attention.
And just as the screen changed to music, I knew only too well that music reminded me of so many years ago when I was born. I fell into a familiar trance…
“Take him!” my mother screamed. “Take him from me!”
“We will be killed for this,” Father whispered hoarsely. “Nobody must know, not even Sariel.”
“He sees all!” Maither wept over my body.
Blood. Why was there so much blood?
Flashes of light burned my eyes.
“It was the only way, mo leannan.”
With a cry, she threw herself over my small body, “He will be stronger than us. He will be stronger than them all.”
The light burst through my eyes. What had just been darkness turned to a bright shining sun as heat enveloped my body. I lunged for my mother.
My father held me back.
I was two.
I saw blood red.
I felt their pulses.
I felt their hearts.
I wanted to rip them out with my teeth.
“Son!” Father held onto me so tight my lungs burned. “You must control the lust.”
I screamed. I fought him.
I just wanted.
“Son, if you do not control yourself, you will kill everyone you love. You will destroy your life before it even begins. You must learn self-control.”
I understood the words.
Werewolves talked at one year old.
At two, we were expected to hunt.
I gave my head a shake.
A thundering sound pounded my ears, and I covered them with my hands and screamed as the archangel Sariel swept into the tent.
He eyed both of my parents.
And finally me.
“He is no longer your son.” Sariel’s eyes went white. “He is other. If he stays, he will kill you.” He jerked his attention to me. “What do you hear?”
“B-blood!” I raged.