Cassius has never felt so damn angry even in over a century of life.

They are his life, his love, his damn passion, his special blood bag—how dare they touch them? How dare they even lay eyes when Cassius has proclaimed to the entire castle that they belong solely to him?

Cassius should suck their blood until they dry out, but he imagines the taste wouldn't be so good.

"Where else did they touch you?" He insists. He has been cleaning their body for hours, sucking their blood like never before just to taste it on his tongue and verify that the filthy touch of their servants didn't introduce serious bacteria.

"How dare they—" he seethes. "I should kill them. I should let them rot, throw them to the werewolves." Cassius cups their cheeks as if they were a salvation. He wants to sink his teeth into their throat to mark his territory. "Let me kill them."

If his fangs were at their lovely human's throat, they would understand that they belong solely to Lord Cassius.

( art by redgonist on twt )