Distressed. This is not a common state for me – I’m generally a cool character. Calculating and impenetrable. But I have imprinted, and no male should be held accountable for the chaos that follows such a violent, instant overpowering of one’s senses. I distance myself from Iromar, the small, white creature moving ahead of me in the shadows; with Ishtar in the immediate vicinity, I can hardly make a scene. Because I have done the impossible. The unforgivable.
I have imprinted on a member of Diveen.
My first instinct is that she should die, despite how powerfully I might rebel against the thought. I need this handled. I need to handle it. I cannot live half a life, but I cannot live a whole life if she is the other half. I am a Demon by blood and birth. And she is angel. The stink of it floods my nostrils as I track her through the forest, leaving me a pungent, easy trail to follow. My path is clear, my plan is made, and my progress is quick. I will murder her in her sleep, if need be, but this…weakness I have acquired will be disposed of.
No one must ever know.
Suddenly I am upon her, resting easily in the clearing ahead of me, her white pelt blinding in the night’s inky darkness. I pause, gathering the energy I require before ridding myself of the curse that is her. I stifle a low growl that threatens to reveal my hiding place in the shadows. I am angry. I am furious. And yet I cannot jump. I am livid. And I am overwhelmed.
My muscles, still rigid with my unmistakable rage, uncoil from their preparatory positions, and I, instead, take a few stiff steps into the clearing. I’ve decided that I want to know some things before I sentence her to death. “‘Evening,” I coolly announce myself, gradually regaining my typical, aloof composure. “You’re awfully far from home, Angel Dust,” I coo, a smile creeping across my face. My voice is deep, quiet. And it is lethal.
S A Q R
three || ---- || 41” / 185lbs || ---- || boundless |