Demon Turned Lover [BxB]

Luka

        Draftiness, condensing and raw, surrounded me—from the barbed ground, the concrete wall that curved my back. This atmosphere was riddled—different auras waltzed. Something was dripping, and its putrid smell amassed beneath my nostrils. Blood. My eyes flickered open, but the cached redness lay heavy atop. Rusted chains wedded my wrists, yet fixated I was on the demilune puddle of blood. It was coming from my mouth. This wasn't my blood...

       As if the air had flicked my chin, I looked up. There was a metal table to the left, low enough for one to surveil. A maroon flower, shrivelled up like retracting fingers, yet the domed pod in the middle remained a bold red—opened. My eyes went annular. A blood bloom, begotten from the blood of a fallen angel once they had splashed over the ground. How did they get that?

      "Oh? You're awake! I'm so sorry for not realising earlier. How...rude of me," a voice taunted, leaving not a body for my eyes to tie anger to.

      I spat out the metallic fluid, gritting my teeth at the agape steel door as the voice sunk in my ears. "Where are they?!"

      "All ready to fight! Even though you haven't seen me. I guess that's why he liked you!" My focus slid to the weathering wardrobe, sharing the same fate. Where were they? "So ready to fight for everyone else, but him!"

      "But him? I fought for him the most!" I exclaimed loudly, though the words returned as a harsh slap—I didn't understand what Mammon had to do with this. Were they doing this on purpose?

      A sharp laughter rained over the barren room. Ringed hands crawled over the bloodied door frame before incandescing red eyes, and locks of hair too blue to forget, peeked out. "Remember me?"

       "Sabrina..." My voice faded away, like they were enticed by the twirl she did, her body sheathed in tight black leather. By the Lord, she was not a demon. She couldn't have been. However, these eyes that I stared into, belonged to none but a beast.

        Had she been...possessed?

       "But, you're human..."

       "I told you to call me Bri." The woman frowned, and her arms crossed. "We're friends, aren't we?"

       I shook my head. "You're no demon."

       "You're right," Bri drawled. "I'm something much worse."

       I shook my head again, "No, you're hurting."

       As I uttered, I could have sworn that a gout of her hazel awoke.

       Her shoulders braced, chin heavenwards. "You talk like you know everything! You really are like him."

       "You want to torture me, kill me." The browning chains jangled, as though knowing she could not give a rejoinder herself. "To get back at him, right?"

       "You- have no idea!" Bri began to laugh madly, wan fingers haste to clutch her stomach. "You angels are just, so silly. You know, I always wanted to be one. So pure, and sweet! But you're no different to humans."

        The woman strutted over to the metal table before holding the decaying flower. "My Zalgiur got this for me. I never thought I would use it, but here we are."

        Blood blooms could not survive long after its roots left the dirt, let alone on Earth. It was written like that—a shard of hope for demons that pined nemesis. It was never supposed to touch an earth-dwelling angel.

       "You're a throne, aren't you?" With her long heels, Bri stepped towards me. "Of course you are! Those green eyes of yours are so pretty!"

       "Do not," I hissed at the scent of it. The blood had diluted my abilities; I needed them to unearth Marie and Sol.