Gael has always been an outcast and a weirdo - but when he moves to the small town of Imperium, he finds himself in the middle of a supernatural community, he didn't know he needed, or existed. It only becomes more interesting when the local hot vam...
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"Well, it's certainly... Something," Creek said and narrowed their eyes a little at the aquarium. "I mean... I get it, but uh. I think I'm too sober for this."
"An art opening is rarely about the art and more about the wine," I said and took another sip of the ridiculously bad wine. But hey, it did the trick.
We went back to mine and Fred's piece and met some familiar faces there. Abel's old vampire friend was staring at it before he turned to look at me.
"Is this supposed to be funny?" he asked with a shaky voice.
"No," I replied coolly. "Do you find it funny?"
"Why would you label it 'bigot'? I'm not a fucking bigot," he growled back, his cheeks reddening.
"Well, I never said you were. You did. We never said who did this. But since you're so hurt by this, it must be because you did it."
Abel took a step forward. "You poisoned him too?"
Liam took a step back, his gaze swinging from me to Abel. "N-no that wasn't my idea."
"But this was? What the fuck is wrong with you?" Abel was all up in his face now, his hands shaking at his sides.
"I-I didn'-"
"You're dead. Entirely forgotten. The earth is scorched. You get me?" Abel's voice didn't sound like his at all.
I focused on his fingers. They kept turning darker and darker. It looked bizarre. I gently stepped in beside him, grabbing his hand.
"Let's go."
He looked down at me, his chest rapidly rising and falling. His jaw was clenched so tightly, I was afraid he was about to break his teeth. I pulled him with me out of the gallery and to a more private area by the side of the building, hidden partially by some trees.
"Abel," I said softly and gently took his aviators off.
His eyes were entirely black. I still had his hand in mine, and I looked down at it, his whole hand now turning into this non-natural dark colour. It looked almost purple. And his nails were longer. He usually had them neatly cut, but they were longer and shaped more like talons.
I put the palm of my hand to his cheek, and he cringed, exposing his teeth. His fangs were longer too.
"It's alright," I said as softly as I could.
He bent down and pressed his forehead to mine, taking deep and loud breaths.
"There we go, it's alright. You're alright."
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I lost control."
"Don't be sorry. You have nothing to apologise for."
He grabbed me and almost crushed me to his chest. He slowly calmed down, his breath evening out. He also didn't clutch onto me as desperately as he had moments before.
