CHAPTER 159: MY SAVIORS MY DOOM (II)

{Sorry guys I have changed the previous Chapter kindly restart the app to get the latest update since this Chapter is the continuation of Chapter158}

{Warning Trigger Content}

Lucas’s POV

The one behind me shoved hard, and I stumbled forward, barely catching myself on my palms before I could slam face-first into the ground.

"Fuck, what a nice ass you got there," he said, his voice like velvet soaked in gravel. "Can’t wait to fuck it."

Wait—what?

"No, no, I—" I started, but my words vanished as a hand landed hard on my ass with a loud smack. The pain bloomed instantly. Not playful. Not flirtatious. It felt like a warning.

They didn’t seem to care.

Another sharp smack hit my ass, pain flaring across the skin. I gasped, not in pleasure—this wasn’t teasing anymore. It stung like punishment.

Before I could twist around, the guy in front of me stepped closer. His fingers curled under my chin and forced my face up. I looked into his eyes—and that’s when everything changed.

They weren’t brown like I remembered.

They weren’t even human.

His irises glowed—soft, gold-yellow, like molten light trapped under glass. His pupils were stretched and thin like a predator’s.

"Then I’ll take his pretty little mouth," the one in front purred.

His eyes were wrong. Not like before. They glowed, golden and hot, lit from within like molten metal. Like something ancient. Something hunting.

"I—I thought—" I choked out.

His hand grabbed my jaw, fingers strong and bruising as he forced my mouth open.

"You thought wrong?" he whispered, grinning. "Sweetheart, you’re in Memoville. You’re lucky we don’t rip you apart."

The one behind me grabbed my hips, yanking them up while shoving my shoulders down. My back arched painfully. Cold spread through my chest like melting ice.

"We like to play with our food."

Panic clawed up my throat.

I tried to scramble forward, but a clawed hand caught my ankle and dragged me back.

Not fingers.

Claws.

The weight of the guy in front of me pinned me. He pressed his body against my head, his cock hard and grinding against my cheek.

"You’ll learn to open your mouth when we tell you."

"Please," I whispered.

But they weren’t listening. Or maybe they were, and just didn’t care.

The one behind me leaned in, breath hot and reeking of iron. "Humans don’t say ’please’ here. They obey."

He grabbed the back of my neck and licked a stripe up my spine.

I shook.

Every instinct screamed to run, to fight, to do something. But my arms were trembling from holding myself up. My knees scraped the floor. My mind raced in a thousand directions, and none of them led to escape.

Smiling too wide, his voice suddenly more... animal than man. "You’re in Memoville, sweetheart. You should be grateful we’re not vampires."

A sick laugh followed.

I didn’t understand. What did he mean? Why was my heart beating so fast, not from arousal anymore, but from something colder?

Fear.

Real, primal fear.

My shirt was yanked up. My skin burned as cold air hit it, followed by warm fingers, then a bite. Not sharp. Not deep. A warning.

I whimpered.

"We should keep this one," the one behind me muttered. "He screams real pretty."

"And he came so fast," the one in front said with a mocking laugh. "Like a good little toy."

A hand slid down my front again, grabbing my cock even though it had gone soft. It twitched involuntarily. My body was still betraying me, reacting to touches that no longer felt like pleasure.

My heart raced faster than it ever had in my life. This wasn’t sex. This wasn’t a fantasy. This was something else.

Something darker.

They were stronger than me. Not just physically—predator strong. Their voices, their movements, their hunger... it all made sense now. The way the vampire girl had toyed with me earlier, how everyone in this school seemed... off. Too beautiful. Too powerful.

Too inhuman.

I wasn’t part of their world. I was part of their menu.

Before I could back away, the guy behind me grabbed my wrists and twisted my arms behind my back, forcing my face closer to the one in front.

"I’m not ready, I didn’t say yes—" I gasped, but a hand shoved into my hair and pulled hard, silencing me.

"Who said you needed to be ready?" the one in front purred.

Then, without warning, he forced his fingers into my mouth.

I gagged, reflexively trying to pull back, but the guy behind had me locked in place. The fingers were thick, calloused, tasting of salt and something metallic. I tried to scream, but the sound choked on skin and humiliation.

"I love how warm he is," the one behind me whispered. "Still soft. Still untouched. They’re always best when they’re fresh."

"Like veal," the other chuckled.

The one holding my arms yanked them up painfully. My shoulder blades screamed in protest, and I couldn’t move—I couldn’t breathe.

"You smell that?" the one in front whispered, removing his fingers with a wet pop. "He’s scared now."

They leaned in, both sides at once. Their heat pressed against me, and I felt their noses along my throat, under my jaw, against my ear.

Then came the words I’ll never forget:

"I love when they cry. It makes the blood sweeter."

My blood turned to ice.

"W-what... what are you?" I whispered.

"You’ll find out," the one behind me said, as claws—actual claws—ripped open the back of my shirt like tissue paper.

I didn’t scream. Not yet.

My body was frozen, not from obedience—but from disbelief.

I was prey.

And I hadn’t even realized I’d walked into a hunting ground.

Memoville University wasn’t just dangerous. It was a fucking meat farm.

Vampires fed on blood.

Werewolves?

They fed on pleasure.

On pain.

On us.

I felt one of them lean closer—his lips ghosted the back of my neck. Then he bit.

Not hard. Not deep. Just enough to pierce.

Just enough to claim.

I gasped and jerked, but it only made them laugh.

"Sensitive little thing," one murmured. "He’ll break quick."

"Maybe. Or maybe he’s the kind that fights. Those are fun too."

Another slap to my ass—this one hard enough to sting deep—and then a palm sliding down, roughly groping between my legs again.

I was still hard. I hated that I was still hard.

Tears burned in my eyes, but I bit my lip until it bled.

"You’ll be popular around here," the one behind me said, tongue dragging along my spine. "The wolves will line up. Maybe even a few vampires."

Another flash of teeth—canines. Long. Sharp. Unmistakably inhuman.

Then he pressed a thumb into my lower lip and whispered, "And don’t worry, pretty thing. We’ll train you. You’ll even thank us eventually."

My body trembled as another pair of hands lifted my hips.

A whimper slipped from me before I could stop it.

I didn’t want this. Not like this.

Not like prey.

But that’s what I was now.

Not a student. Not a boy discovering his sexuality. Not even a human being.

Just food.

"No," I whispered again, shaking my head. "I didn’t sign up for this. I didn’t know."

"You walked through the gates of Memoville, didn’t you? That was your consent."

The guy in front pulled his pants down just enough to free himself, and I choked on the smell of him—raw, musky, feral. He slapped the head of his cock against my lips.

"Open."

I didn’t. Couldn’t.

He gripped my hair and yanked.

"I said open."

I did.

Because I didn’t know what else to do. Because fear is louder than pride. Because my body had already betrayed me, and now my voice, my mouth—everything else followed.

He pushed in slowly, letting me feel every inch, letting the shame burn behind my eyes as tears welled up.

Behind me, the other was getting ready too. I could hear the sound of a belt being unbuckled.

"First time’s always painful," he said. "But don’t worry. You’ll get used to it."

No. No, I wouldn’t.

I couldn’t.

They didn’t stop.

Their hands kept moving over me—pressing, pawing, clawing—as if I were just something to test, stretch, claim. Their touches grew rougher. No more teasing or play. My skin burned where they dragged their claws, leaving stinging red trails. Every new touch felt less like a caress and more like possession.

I whimpered.

One of them gripped my hair again, yanking my head back so I was forced to look up into those gleaming yellow eyes.

"You’re quiet now," he said with a smirk. "That won’t last."

A claw traced my jawline—delicate, almost soft—until it pricked just beneath my ear and drew a tiny bead of blood.

He licked it off with a satisfied sigh.

Behind me, I felt the warmth of the other one’s breath as he leaned closer, lips brushing the shell of my ear. "We haven’t even started yet," he whispered.

I clenched my teeth, trying not to cry out. I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. But it didn’t matter.

They didn’t need my permission. They didn’t want my participation.

They wanted my fear.

That’s what fed them.

A harsh smack to my ribs made me gasp—followed by a clawed hand wrapping around my hip like a vice.

One of them bent lower, tongue dragging down my spine. Another dug his knee between my thighs, forcing them wider as I grunted against the pressure.