My Lycan Mate of Suicide Forest

So Zagan didn't want to deal with messy situations when taking alyko? Penelope would have snorted if this whole thing wasn't so tragic. So many lives had been ruined by this cold, unfeeling monster beside her, and now he was worrying about it getting messy.

"You are a highly intelligent… creature," Penelope said, unsure if he found the 'V' word offensive.

"Vampire," he corrected her, drawing out the word in that emotionless tone of his. It made the hairs prickle on her neck and arms. "Are you afraid to say it?"

"Are you a highly intelligent vampire?" she asked quickly, proving that she was not afraid of the word. No, the word was not what she was afraid of.

He chuckled, although it sounded more like a death rattle in his throat.

"I just mean, you are a highly intelligent creature, but that doesn't necessarily mean that you are a highly intelligent vampire. You might be an average vampire. I don't know anything about your kind," she explained innocently while also trying to use the opportunity to gain more knowledge about him. Were there more vampires that they would need to worry about in the future? Or was he the only one?

"I have been alive for centuries," he said slowly while maintaining that deathly rattle.

She turned to look at him in silent question, offering her naive expression as an open invitation to explain whatever he wished.

"I am patient. My ego does not bruise easily," he added. "And when compared to those whose elders barely last a century, yes, I am highly intelligent."

"Why did you ask if I could see evidence of the enchantment in her blood?" she asked then, head tilting.

Why did she remind him of a curious little pet that one might alternately want to scratch behind the ears and kick across the room?

"Are you not a highly intelligent creature yourself?" he asked, borrowing her question. "The way you try to act innocent while seeking information, believing that I will react to an implied challenge to my ego? Do you think I am vain? Do you think a creature who wishes so desperately to die could possibly be vain?"

Somewhere between the teasing repetition of her question to the end of his honest one, he had indeed become quietly furious. The slight amused smile that was initially on his face vanished, and by the end of this sustained string of thoughts, he was trembling with restraint. Penelope was able to witness the small light go out in his eyes as if something had switched it off. He didn't like to be played with.

The dull grey eyes looked past her, looked through her, as if they were seeing the pulse of life sustaining her and wishing to take it for his own. He was thirsty, and he hated it. Endless thirst that he could never satiate. An endless yearning for life that he could never have. For death that he could never ever have. No matter how much life he drank from, he could never actually possess it for himself. No matter how much death he caused, he could never die for himself.

"It's not the blood," she whispered, pressing herself backwards against the counter as he loomed ever closer to her, his eyes narrowing in on the soft pulse in her neck. He licked his lips, running his tongue over the sharp points of his fangs. Zosime's blood was almost out of his system, and now he was thirsty. He wasn't thinking straight.

Zagan squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to regain control. He wasn't going to drink from Penelope. She would fear him more, resent him, and then they would be unable to work together on this. And this was much too important. The Luna might actually be his chance.

When he opened his eyes again, he was bracing himself on the counter with hands on either side of the Winter. Her eyes, which had initially widened in fear with his sudden change in demeanor, had regained their curiosity. He softly pushed himself away from her.

She was the first he had told his true intentions to. It wasn't something he planned, but when he learned of her extensive work with pandemic researchers to engineer a virus that could create an alyko so close to a fae that he or she would be able to finally end his lifeless, deathless existence, he was very impressed.

Admittedly, his first reaction was… Why hadn't he thought of that? He was so busy studying the live alyko subjects and testing their abilities that he hadn't considered attempting to engineer new ones through a virus. Existing macroscopic life was far more fascinating and intriguing to study.

"That's actually quite appropriate," she had chuckled, sitting next to him in front of the fireplace in her room. She had insisted on the fire. It was dark in the castle during the daytime, but at night it became dark and cold.

"What is appropriate?" he asked.

"You are just like a virus. Of course you would have your attention on the vectors that sustain that temporary life for you rather than a fellow virus," she chuckled some more. Apparently this was funny.

"I am just like a virus?" he asked again.

The novelty of asking so many questions in succession suddenly hit him, and he felt further intrigued by this Winter alyko. She gave him the novelty of interesting conversation. He had never considered himself like a virus.

"Viruses are neither living nor dead," she explained. "They are rather little bits of genetic material surrounded by a protein coat. They can't replicate without others. They can't ultimately live without others."

"I can think of a way that we are different," he said challengingly.

"I can think of several ways that you are different, but it doesn't change the fact that you are also the same in that regard," she smiled with ease, forgetting for a moment that she was sitting next to a terrifying monster like himself.

"Viruses wish to live," he ignored her interruption.

"Viruses have no wishes," she chuckled, smiling into the flames of the fireplace.

He watched the flames reflecting in her bright, lively orbs as she sat unaffected at the moment by his stare.

"Then I am not just like a virus, Penelope," he finally said, startling her with the use of her first name. "I have one wish. I wish to die."