Ryker POV

The shittiest thing about having to deal with this insufferable disease was that I had no recollection of what I'd done whenever Khrysaor took over. I was completely left in the dark thus there were these blank moments in my memories, gaps here and there that I wasn't able to fill. I could ask Khrysaor about it but sometimes even he couldn't remember. It was as if we both had a brain tumor or something. It was maddening. I supposed that was one of the many reasons why it had earned its name. Mad Wolf. 

Back when the disease hadn't been this advanced, I was able to control it. Just like two years ago when I'd realized that Khrysaor had been drinking Adelina's blood. I'd managed to stop despite the urges and save Adelina's life. She'd had bruises all over but at least, she hadn't died. Violence and blood. Those were the two things that it was after. 

No. There was a third thing. Xyrra. Just by having her name crossing my mind, my whole body shuddered in pure anguish due to insatiable, unsated desire. My body longed for her, to feel her touch and to touch her. In the first few weeks when I was still able to get my hands on the steering wheel and temporarily shove this disease inside the trunk, I'd stolen a few moments just to see her. 

At first, I'd been discreetly watching her like a creep from afar. It had been fine. It had been enough until one day, I'd seen her cleaning the cafe's window and a teardrop fell onto her hand. She'd quickly wiped it away for fear that her boss might see it. All I'd wanted at that time was to cross the street, rush to her, and pull her into my arms. I'd wanted to tell her that I wasn't worth crying, that she shouldn't waste her tears on me. Somehow I'd managed to fight against the hankering. 

Yet when I'd seen Eros with her, I'd lost it. He'd only been holding her hand, it had been an innocent, friendly touch but all I'd wanted was to grab him and tear his arm off. I'd had to walk around the block to calm myself down, and only when I'd been absolutely sure that I'd regained enough control that I'd gone back there again. Hours had indeed passed. 

Even until this very moment, I still remembered that day, that night. 

She'd finished work and bid goodbye to her colleagues. I'd always known that she would've had to take her bike to the small alley behind the cafe so I'd climbed up the walls and stayed on the roof, looking down and waiting for her in pure anticipation. I hadn't had any intention to approach her. All I'd wanted was to catch a glimpse of her, to breathe the same air as her. Nevertheless, those wishes to remain in the dark had been thrown out of the window the second my eyes had caught sight of her. Instinct had taken over and I'd found myself jumping down on top of the dumpster with a loud bang. I had grabbed her by her waist. The soft curves of her body had fitted mine so perfectly like two jigsaw puzzles. My mouth had descended on her and despite my wish to kiss her tenderly and savor every second of it, I'd kissed her rough, bruising her lips. 

I always knew that I'd been craving for her before I had this disease. After all, she was my mate. However, it was a thousand times worse now. There was no affection, no tenderness. It was raw. It was brutal. I wanted to sink my canines deep into her shoulder until the tip of it touched her bones. And there was nothing I wanted more than to drink all of her until there wasn't anything left. Even the thought of it scared me. 

The last straw was when I'd dumbly come to her graduation party. Amidst the crowd, our eyes had met. The connection had been so strong that I'd had to break away. I'd left the ballroom and when I'd felt her coming after me, I'd tried to hide in the bathroom which I shouldn't have done. Perhaps a tiny part of me had wished to get a whiff of her smell for one last time. 

Whatever it was, it was a dumb idea. Because the very second she'd stepped into that bathroom, there had been no turning back. When I'd sunk my canines and drunk her blood, it had taken every ounce of my being, of whatever conscience I'd left to stop drinking her blood and get the fuck out of there. 

Since then I didn't dare to steal any moment. I had realized how dangerous I'd become and left. 

"What are we going to do?" I asked Khrysaor as I paced about the room that I rented while I was in London since there was no way I would stay in my family's townhouse even if my parents weren't there. 

'Stick to the plan. Find the witch. Have her fix us.' 

"Sounds easier said than done." I heaved a sigh. "Adelina might have helped us with the tonic albeit it was useless but she did it out of fear." When I'd still had hope, I'd gone to Adelina for help, hoping she'd be able to find something that would stop the infection or at least delay the disease from getting into my mind. "Blair Balfour isn't a run of the mill sorceress like Adelina. She's much older, much stronger." 

Khrysaor growled. 'You don't think we can take her?' 

"No," I answered matter of fact. 

'We should probably power up then.'

"No!" I shook my head, my hands curled into balls of fists. "No more victims, Khry. No more." 

'You said it yourself, with our current state, we won't be able to take her,' my wolf argued. He had a point. 

"There must be another way." I could even hear my own doubts in my voice. I ran a frustrated hand through my hair and then sat on the edge of the bed. My elbows were resting on my knees and I ducked my head, eyes closed. "There has to be another way." 

'We both know there isn't any other way.'

"We fed not too long ago."

My wolf snorted. 'It has been four weeks. Today is the next full moon. If it passes and we are not getting our fix, we might not be able to have a conversation like this. You do remember what happened last time, don't you?!'

He was right. We'd been through all of this for the past two years so, of course, Khrysaor was right. I was completely aware of it and I still had scruples about it. "What if we won't be able to stop?" 

Khrysaor didn't answer right away but I knew he was listening. Another minute passed in silence before he finally spoke again. 'Then that's number sixty-two.' 

"No." I jumped to my feet. "We can't keep adding up the list. No. We have to try our best to stop before it's too late. We should stop. Maybe if we both have enough willpower, we will be able to stop."

'I'm not the cheerleader in this joint venture. But whatever you say.' 

Regardless of how pessimistic my wolf's response was, I still had it drilled in my head that I'd do my best to stop. I couldn't let another person get killed. I simply wouldn't. 

I left my room half an hour later and walked around downtown London where the roads weren't as crowded and the buildings weren't as fancy. There was a nightclub with a dark alley behind it. A small door was installed at the back of the nightclub for when the workers get the trash out or have a cigarette break. Not far from there were several housing units for low to middle class citizens. 

I staked the night out, watching the alley and waiting. An hour passed. It wasn't until another hour had passed when I saw a lone figure, a drunk woman stepping out of the back door and into the alley. At first, I'd thought she was alone but then a man twice her age followed her several seconds later. They were talking animatedly yet a few minutes later, the man started touching her. They went from light kissing to rough in a matter of minutes. I was about to leave and find someone else elsewhere when I heard the woman telling the man to stop and the sound of fabrics being torn apart. 

Unable to ignore her pleading and frantic begging, I went in the middle of them and shoved the man away. The woman hurriedly went back to the club through the door she'd gone out from. 

"Bollocks! What have you done, mate? I would've scored that one if it wasn't because of you!" 

The man was throwing his punch when I captured his fist before it had the chance to hit me. I heaved out a small sigh. "Well, I guess you're my meal." I pulled him towards me and sunk my canines into his shoulder. 

'At least this one isn't so innocent.'

Blood was pouring into my mouth and I drank. It felt so good. My thirst was squelched. I could feel the power surging inside of me. I just needed a little bit more. Just a bit more and I would be able to take on Blair Balfour. Yet a little bit turned out to be more than necessary and I found myself having trouble stopping. The man had stopped fighting and if I didn't stop, I was positive he would be a corpse in the next few seconds.

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Any thoughts?