Animal Urges - Chapter XVIII

Chapter XVIII - The Treatment

Castle Volkihar lay on a distant island of its own, thus I again had time to try to think.

Despite my lupine constitution I felt tired as never before. Even so, my ennui did not quite overshadow my thoughts of hunting or tumbling; I understood at last one of the twin's comment about his mind being continually 'clouded with the hunt'. Moreover, I fuzzily understood that I was hurting people, in more ways than simply killing and eating them - or fucking them to death. Elda, for example; despite my finding out that the reason my bounty had been so low was because I could not have been convicted of murder - there being no direct proof of my having killed her - I felt no better. As an aside, when it occurred to me that Aela had not slain me when we fucked ere I became a werewolf, she assured me it was because she had learned to control herself with humans; I was intrigued, but did not wish to inflict further harm 'experimenting'.

I had not even loved the whore, yet I felt remorse. Why, then, did I not feel more guilt about harming those I did love? For I was hurting loved ones, was I not? I loved Vilja, or at least, I wanted to know how I felt about her without a 'clouded mind'. I wanted to know how I felt about Aela, too - even though I still doubted I could have her, beyond what we already shared. I had wanted Mjoll, too, barely gotten to know her; now could never know her - though I mayhap could have - because of what I was. I wanted to experience others - very well, I wanted to fuck others - and sample more of what life offered, but I could not, because of what I was. I began to recognise my obsession as virtually all-consuming, yet could not tear myself away from the carnality.

Moreover, I had taken two children off the streets; what kind of life could I give them - was I giving them - living this way? I was avoiding home, as I did not trust myself near them. So, what was the point? Why did I adopt them, if I was not able to care for them? Withal, were I to try to have some kind of home life as a werewolf, how long before I... hurt them? I had even moved us all to Solitude to keep them from harm in the war - Whiterun being in the virtual centre of the conflict, having seen battle once already - and yet I seldom saw them.

I no longer wanted this life. Thus, I made up my mind that, as soon as we were done at Castle Volkihar, I would go to Ysgramor's Tomb and perform the ritual to cure myself.

I did not know that the choice would be denied me.

Rowing a dinghy to its island, my first glimpse of Castle Volkihar as it emerged from the mists was unfavourable: A hulking half-ruin, brooding over its island like the huge stone gargoyles bracing its wide main staircase. Further exploration only confirmed my first impression. I felt appalled that Serana had spent her childhood in this dreadful place; it had to have been worse than mine, although she did not seem affected by it, other than, at times, waxing wistful in her remembrances. Yet, I will not dwell on the edifice herein. I needs must only say that we found Serana's mother, Valerica, and the Elder Scroll, but in order to do so I faced the choice of trading a piece of my soul or becoming a vampire.

Despite Serana leading me to believe that only a vampire lord could turn a werewolf, she had obviously lied, for she now told me she could do it herself; I was furious at her deception.

"How could you lie to me?" I hissed.

Deep in the bowels of the half-ruined fortress, we paused in an ancient crypt. Water trickled steadily down the slimy green stone of the walls, collected in dead pools here and there on the floor. The air was dead, smelled of putrefaction, mouldy antiquity.

"I didst not lie," she objected.

"No? What would you call it, then?"

"I didst not know."

I scoffed my disbelief.

"I sayeth true," the vampiress insisted. "I studied the subject, whilst we were apart."

I said nothing, scowled instead.

"It is... personal."

"What do you mean?"

"It is... intimate," she emphasised. "Turning is like... like making love - 'fucking', as you humans are wont to say."

I suspected it was more like fucking than making love, as Vilja (my heart thumped at the thought of her) had differentiated a while ago.

"I thought you told me it was degrading," I remonstrated.

"It was for me... at the time. It shall not be for thee." Her orange eyes glowed; my loins jolted.

I cannot say what swayed me: her expression and my lust, or fear of the loss of even part of my soul. Regardless, were we to be that... familiar, I insisted on leaving the dungeon for the island shore, despite my guess that Serana was not fastidious about where she turned me; the naked hunger I saw her demeanour was frightening - and I am not easily affrighted. Even so, she suggested we take the dinghy back to the mainland, feeling that 'interruption' would be less likely.

We pitched a tent as full dark enveloped us. Though not a breath of wind stirred, a flake or two of snow eddied. The sea was calm, no creatures called out. Perhaps the proximity to evil lurking in the nigh darkness subdued nature, I know not, but I felt unnaturally chilled. Apprehensive, I bade Serana wait until I had a brazier lit and its warmth dispelled the cold. Soon, sweat began to soak my under-padding beneath my armour, and I yet shivered.

Perhaps it was the vampiress' unnerving gaze, affixed upon me as I puttered about the tent, lighting the brazier, arranging the furs, undressing. She was already seated, nude on the mats, unpinning her dark braids, tweaking erect nipples; tongue darting over fangs (were they suddenly longer?), licking taloned fingers. Delving to her lower lips, she spread them lewdly apart with one hand as the other probed and stroked; once more, the bleeding crown mushroom came to mind, albeit one shiny with secretions. In spite of myself, I grew weak-kneed; this, I felt, would be different.

She leaned back, knees up, feet on the furs, legs splayed wider than I thought possible; continued to interchange fingers between mouth and crevice, scrutiny unwavering as I all but collapsed opposite. For some reason my limbs felt heavy; eyelids drooped, as they had not since I partook of Aela's blood in the Underforge. The contrast between loose ebony tresses and cool pallor of skin in the weak light deepened as the vampiress slithered atop me; hands, lips, tongue everywhere at once, squeezing, probing, tasting. I felt drugged; I had never tried skooma, but this, I imagined, is what it might feel like: all senses save touch suspended, the latter intensified as never before.

Skin tingling, I felt her everywhere at once, erogenous areas more sensitive than ever. Lips upon nipples, yet pulling at earlobes; tongue exploring, darting into ear and between toes; fingers probing cleft, brushing nape of neck. How was this possible? I had no senses to ponder, only to revel. When she bit me, it was indescribable: as though I climaxed a half-hundred times at once.

Serana's father defeated, we at last journeyed to Solstheim to find Vilja.

She was not there.

Continued in Chapter XIX