The Duke And His Mate

Chapter-2 Maxwell

He was hungry.

His claws dug into the wetness and coolness of the forest floor as he stood still and listened, not moving at all as he tried to discern that distinct sound. The soft padding sound of hooves, the occasional grunting, and the thudding of fresh blood through veins. Everything inside him coiled as hunger flooded through him. He was really hungry and it was pushing him to the edge. He bared his canines, ready and poised. He focused hard, tuning out all the unnecessary noises and sounds and focusing on the image that was building in his head. And as he did that, he could hear the thudding of the heart.

Food. Finally.

Without any delay, he leaped forward, dashing through the trees so furiously that they all seemed to be meshing into each other. Greens and browns all mixed together in a mundane palate of some distinct color. The closer he started to get, the louder he could hear the heartbeat. Thud. Thud. Thud. So calm. So peaceful. Absolutely clueless about the danger that was approaching him.

Just a few seconds away.

The sweetly oblivious elk.

Reflexively he bared his teeth, his claws preparing for the leap as he soundlessly neared his target. One leap was all it was going to take. Every nerve in his body thrummed with excitement while the hunger intensified to the point of pain.

He needed food right now.

As if feeling the danger, the innocent animal looked up, his dark eyes scanning the area before landing on his red ones. Fixing his gaze on him, he took a step towards him. The bulky animal dashed towards the forest, grunting, and huffing.

But it was not that fast.

He leaped forward, fixing his claws around his neck. The elk wasn't giving up that easily either. He thrashed around, furiously and even though his initial plan was to strangle him first, he felt like that wasn't going to work. He bared his canines and sunk them into his warm, thick flesh, almost groaning as it calmed the furious hunger. He ate until he couldn't breathe and then moved back. Shooting one last look at the dead animal, he strolled over to the lake and silently stared down at his reflection in the dark water. Blood covered half his face and his eyes looked wilder than ever.

"Maxwell," a very familiar voice called, and he knew it was time to get back to his other life.

A life that he hated with all his being. Just as much as he hated the animal that stared back at him.

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"Charted on February, the fifth, eighteen hundred and twelve. I, Arthur Albinus Baldwin Durst, the reigning duke of Marholm, hereby thus declare that in the state of affair of my demise, as and when that happens or in any special circumstances wherein I am incapable of continuing and tending to my duties and responsibilities as the duke, those will directly be passed onto my second son, Maxwell Arthur William Durst, and henceforth he will be crowned as the reigning duke of Marholm. Signed and sealed by the late duke Arthur Albinus Baldwin Durst. Attesting as a witness, attorney Mr. Edmund Owen,"

Maxwell blankly stared at Mr. Colborne, his late step-father's advisor as he finished reading the will he left. He looked a bit startled as Maxwell's dark gaze fell on him. He tended to intimidate people quite a bit.

"I am sorry," Maxwell finally found his voice. "May I have a look at that?"

"Oh, sure," He mumbled and handed him the scroll.

His dark eyes scanned the neat handwriting once, twice, thrice, but everything written was precisely what the gentleman said. There was his father's signature and his royal seal. And after the thorough interrogation of the will and inexplicable bewilderment on his part, Maxwell finally accepted how badly he was doomed now. Because everything that was said made him...

The reigning duke of Marholm.

It was a disaster.

"But it can't be it," Maxwell thundered. "I am the second son! I have a brother who should be the rightful heir to the title and dukedom. Isn't that how it has been for generations?"

"Yes, that's the general rule," Mr. Colborne mumbled. "But it is always open to change as per the wishes and desires of the reigning heir. And it was your father's wish that you shall be crowned the next duke of Marholm and not his first son, your grace,"

Your grace?

"Please don't call me that," Maxwell hissed, irritated.

"Unfortunately, that's how you will be addressed from today forth, sir," Mr. Colborne answered. "As the advisor to the late duke, I welcome you to Marholm. The dukedom awaits your service, your grace. And I await your orders whenever you are ready,"

Whenever he was ready? He will never be ready. This was his worst nightmare coming true. And there was no way he would ever be ready for that. At all. As much as he felt agitated, Maxwell fought hard to keep his wrath in control. Because if he loses it, well, he cannot. His carefully drawn mask would tether to pieces. The aftermath of which was the destruction of the entire dukedom.

And him.

Wasn't there enough turmoil in his life already?

"I think we should give him some space to organize this new piece of information, gentlemen," Professor Hurst muttered, noticing Maxwell's expression. He was the only person whom he considered to be a friend around here. Even if he was his father's age.

Maxwell was on the verge of losing it. His temples throbbed furiously and he could feel the furious flow of blood in his veins. He was precisely seconds away from phasing. Clenching his jaw, he focused on his breathing instead.

"Yes, I think that is a good thought," Mr. Colborne mumbled, noticing his dark expression. He gave him a curtsy and walked out leaving Maxwell alone with his disastrous situation.

"Now, now...Maxwell," Professor Hurst said.

"The duke did this on purpose!" Maxwell thundered, his dark eyes turning red with fury. "He did this to seek his revenge on mother! He knew everything and still..."

"I don't think revenge is the appropriate word, son," Professor Hurst mumbled. "But I sure do believe this was his way of making you pay his debt. After all, you owe him his name and then the life that came with it."

"You know everything, don't you?" Maxwell whispered. He felt so furious that his entire body was practically shaking.

"This situation is unfortunately peremptory, Maxwell, and nothing can be done. You are the newly crowned Duke of Marholm," Professor Hurst answered. "You have to make amends with that."

Make amends with that?

"No. I cannot do this! I cannot make amends with it!" Maxwell roared. "Don't you understand the risk it puts me at? This...this new-found bloody title comes with responsibilities that I am not fit to accept and fulfill,"

"I don't see why you are not," Professor Hurst muttered, folding his arms across his chest. "You are well-learned and thoroughly versed in every knowledge that a young man of noble birth is expected of. You have a kind heart and humanitarian qualities too. And at the very least you don't get drunk and squander your father's money. He actually made a wise decision in regards to the dukedom, I would say,"

"Taking my position as a duke means I have to be a part of society!" Maxwell wailed, irritated to his bones with the old man who he knew very well what he was trying to imply. "And people and go to different engagements. I won't have any privacy left and you know how much I loathe people. They are mean and petty!"

"Now, that's a bit too judgmental, wouldn't you say?" Professor Hurst smiled. "Not everyone is your father, Maxwell. There exist both good and evil amongst us. Say, your aunt? She adores you. Your...your best friend Benedict, is it? Me..."

"That's because they don't know the truth," Maxwell whispered, flopping back down on the sofa. He had never felt such despair as he was feeling at the moment. And rage. "Once they know...they will loathe me too," After all who would want to be with a man who turns into an animal, and a ghastly, deadly one at that?

"Nobody needs to know anything," Professor Hurst said. "You will be embracing the part of you that is crafted to align with this society. Remember, you are as much a human as...,"

"A wild animal?" Maxwell offered disgustingly.

"Insulting yourself isn't the solution to your problem, Maxwell. You have to accept and adorn the part that everyone knows to be the second son of the duke of Marholm. You cannot keep running all the time. With a little control and perseverance, you could do it. And you have to because the will is drawn and your father is gone." Professor Hurst muttered.

"He is NOT my father and I do NOT want this!" Maxwell snarled, standing up and heading for the door. "And Cameron? Do you think he will sit silently after he finds out?"

"He does not have any other choice. Just like you, he would have to make peace with your father's choice as well," he answered. Maxwell snorted, running his hands wildly through his long, dark hair. He knew his brother, his step-brother, too well. He will most definitely come up with his own ways to destroy his life.

This was purgatory at its best for him.

"No, I cannot," he said firmly. "I do not care a dime about what he wanted. I am not going to let him have the satisfaction that even when he is dead as a doornail, he managed to continue what he started six and twenty years ago. No," He shot the professor a shrewd look as he started for the door.

"Your mother would have wanted you to," Professor Hurst said softly. "She would have been proud of you and who you are and how far you have come," Maxwell closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"You don't know my mother," He said, his voice hard. "And neither do I. So...it doesn't matter," Giving him a hard look, he turned on his heels and walked out. He needed to escape. This was getting too much for him to control. His step-father made his entire life hell as long as he was alive. And he ensured that the legacy continued even after he was gone.

As he walked out, the need to escape into the calm depths of nature overwhelming him, Maxwell dearly hoped...

That he would rot in hell...