A War on Death

Chapter Six: Stained

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Verena

I can hear him. His cautious footsteps barely making a sound as he searches for me. The entire way back, my anger only grew. Like a parasite. Numbing my bloodstream with the potent taste of blood as my fangs elongated and punctured my lip.

"Moonlight, darling, I know you're mad." His voice is as cocky as ever, but the tinting of shame creeps through the syllables. Is he... regretful?

"Listen—" I cut him off by plunging my knife into the dead center of his back. A sharp jolt of electricity flies through my veins at the feeling of his blood on my skin. The deep black stardust surging through his body oozes drunkenly from the wound, smelling of sweet Dotis fruit and shadows. The perfume of the dying.

He grunts harshly, lurching away from my blade. I let go of its handle with a mocking grin, leaving it lodged in the thick, corded muscle of his shoulder. His breathing is ragged, either from anger, or pain... or both.

He chuckles softly to himself as he attempts to snatch the knife from his skin. Just as I had hoped, it is just out of his reach. His growl of frustration has me pausing, not yet closing in on my final target. His death. He deserves this, I remind myself. He played with you. I can't truly kill him, I'm not strong enough, but I can try.

Turning to face me, his tongue rakes his top teeth. "Really?" He snaps. "Right in the back?" I don't deign to respond, my fury still exploding within my chest at every glance.

"Moonlight, I'm so—"

"Save it. You traitorous piece of—" I cut myself off, raking an angry, clawed hand through my dirty hair— "Agh! How dare you! Getting those demonic creatures to hunt me, are you kidding me?!" His blood seeps from the wound, trickling down his skin and dripping from his wings.

His chest is iridescent in the moonlight shining from the atrium's windows, his skin riddled with dozens of scars I have never seen before— constellations of centuries of pain. My wings are fanned beside me, quaking with unspent energy.

"Listen." He pleads, shifting his hands out towards me only to grimace as the  blade slices deeper.

I don't move closer, my chin raising in a haughty manner. My ego is growing, anger leaving the bleeding cavity in my chest empty with humiliation. "Beg." My words are clipped, my eyes devilish slits as I stare down the being bred from the darkest parts of this world. He is so incredibly dazzling... So rare. It's hard to be furious at a gem for the way it glows.

His eyes shine back, my own anger reflecting in his irises but not as rage. He sees through my front, the helplessness I felt still eating away at the soles of my feet, threatening to swallow me whole.

Without another breath, his powerful wings expand, draping the marble floors with a blanket of shadows. Knees to the ground, he presses his palms against the cold stone, his blood tracing spirals down his arms and pooling around his hands, intertwining with his fingers like death holding his trembling hand.

I'm taken aback, startled out of my anger and thrust into the spirals of panic.

His back is exposed, vulnerable. This is the ancients way of begging for mercy. For forgiveness. His muscles shifting slowly, waiting for any malicious attacks on my part. But I don't move. I can't. Because something on his wings makes me sick. Makes me pause. Makes tears bubble their traitorous track up my throat.

He doesn't realize this though, his words caressing every tortured, twisted part of my broken human heart. I don't want to feel like this. I hate this burning desperation.