A Vampire's Pride

Glory To The King

Viola's POV

There in the mass of blinding white light stood Callence, an utter glorious sight to behold. The tips of his hair turning black, the inky color drifting up the tendrils of golden just as the inky black was now spreading onto his fingertips and veins of his arms like a second skin. His throat litters with the same blackness, and his eyes find mine as rage showcases in his cobalt blue eyes— terrifyingly beautiful and promising death.

As a demon soldier launches in action quickly— his knives launching through the air and toward Callence, I suck in a sharp breath as they stop midair with one flick of his wrist, and I realize what the black must signify. His powers, the use of magic. I'd envisioned Callence to be this boyish sorcerer with a blue Mickey Mouse hat— instead there he stood, black ink leaking into his bloodstream and hair, barbaric body taking up room as he made the fighting knives whiz through the air and into the demons skull with a flick of his fingers. He didn't even have to exert a muscle. Suddenly I felt foolish for ever using the words boyish and Callence In the same sentence.

I swallow thickly as his eyes find mine again, watching as he moves to make his way toward me, claiming me with just a look.
He'd come for me— as soon as my terror had become too much and I'd desperately called for him, he'd come for me. My heart blooms as I watch his jaw clench in anger, looking at the bruises on my body, and the scathing gaze promises vengeance this very second.

Another demon who thinks himself strong enough moves to block his path, screaming a battlecry as he moves to bury a battle axe in him, but Callence is still unfazed.
His muscles in his arms become taut and flex as he shoves his hands into a man's body with a sick wet crunch, tearing him in half so quick that I barely have time to register the gruesome aspect of it all.

"This is part of his army?" He taunts, his lips flickering in the corner but no dimple appearing. It's a cold grin, and one that makes me realize that he isn't satisfied with only those people dead.

Nobody in the room moves further, as if they'd been frozen on account.

My gaze flickers around the room and I realize, they are frozen on account. Was it mine or Callence's magic? At this point, it was one in the same, and I was too emotional to even care.

He raises a broad arm and opens his palm, and like clockwork the frozen bodies all explode together. As if they were tightly pressurized cans exploding on their own accord, chunks of frozen people land everywhere like a hail storm, but I'm too enamored to move my feet.
My eyes shoot to the bejeweled sword, and I know that Kilian and mother recluse must have heard all the commotion by now, probably on their way to kill us— but I just had a feeling deep inside that Callence wouldn't let them touch me. Touch us.

           He stalks toward me, gaze scanning my face and the dripping gash crossing down my collarbone and arm. His gaze darkens as he catches onto the blood dripping onto the floor, fury twisting his features for a split second.
       As he reaches me I watch in fascination as he grabs a small blade attached to his hip, slicing into his wrist without ever looking away from me. I wince as I watch blood drip down his arm and he rolls up the sleeve of his button up shirt, blood getting onto it regardless.

          He crouched down and murmurs something I don't quite catch, his eyes smoldering as he gently grasps my arm— allowing his blood to drip into my open wound.

           "Sicilde agrum vor." He murmurs gruffly, and I watch in amazement as his blood intertwines with mine, matching dna and slowly pulling my skin together until the wound is nothing but a memory. Yet still, his hand rubs at the ghost of the wound, something akin to pain on his face.