Blood Donor | Dark Romance | MxM [COMPLETED]

4.3

Back at Dael's place, I storm to my loft, not bothering to look left or right. Scowling, I throw my backpack aside carelessly as I walk towards my painting materials to grab a glass. I fill it with water at the sink, then return, ready to paint the hell out of this situation. I pick out three brushes, two rather big ones and a small one, then start colouring the empty canvas.

I don't have a plan, but for this, I don't need one. It's not about creating a piece of art for everyone to gawk at and appreciate. This is about me. I watch the colours seep into the linen, stretching along the fibres until they reach each other, mingling.

"So this is what you do when you want to kill someone", Dael observes dryly. Flinching, I drop the brush and grab the canvas, turning it around quickly so he can't look at it anymore. Seriously, he can't just leave me alone for a second. Scowling, I turn around to glare at him. I've had enough.

"Fuck off", I growl threateningly, but he chuckles, obviously immune to the part of me that made everyone else run away as fast as their legs could carry them. I clench my hands into fists, trembling slightly.

"I think you've got too much blood in your system", he notices casually, taking a few steps closer. He eyes my painting materials with disinterest.

"This has nothing to do with my body. It's about your behaviour. You can suck as much of my blood as you want. I'll sleep for a few hours, then wake up hating you just as much as before", I sneer at him, pulling my shoulders back to stand at my full height, daring him to have his way with me. We'll see who wins this one. If I lose, I lose. Things can't get much worse, considering the way he's messing with me.

Suddenly, he's standing right in front of me, clutching my shoulders. It happened so fast, I can't even flinch until a second later.

"You know, funny thing is, you actually believe that", he whispers, smiling at me as if I was just an innocent kid who simply doesn't know better. No. That's exactly it. It's an upgrade from being considered an exotic dish, but still far away from being his equal. I shiver and my knees give way, forcing me to rely on him to hold me up. Shit.

I feel lightheaded.

"Good. Now take off your shirt", he instructs calmly, taking a step backwards, though he's still holding on to my shoulders. Slowly, he softens his grip, forcing me to stand on my own legs again. I avert my gaze, looking down so I don't have to face him.

It hurts.

How can he do this to me? The worst part is that he knows about my feelings, but doesn't give a damn anyway. Reluctantly, I remove my shirt.

"Now sit down on the couch."

Somewhere in the past couple of days, I had gotten the impression that he cared. Apparently, I've never been so wrong in my entire life.

I follow his order. He's standing behind me; I can see his reflection on the big dark flatscreen. Carefully, he places one hand on my forehead, pushing my head back until it rests on the couch, forcing me to look up at him. There's no sign of any feelings on his features. His red eyes regard me coldly. I grit my teeth. 

So, so stupid.

He turns my head with his hand, exposing my neck and pinning me down. His other hand moves to my chest, holding me in place. I squeeze my eyes shut, afraid. Even though my fists are clenched, they're still shaking.

Shit.

I'm about to cry. I want him to stop. I don't want to be treated as if I'm less than a human being.

"You're not less. You're nothing more, either. And you're mine", he whispers into my ear, causing me to flinch. What the fuck is wrong with him? He changes character too quickly. But maybe that's his game. And I was just stupid enough to fall for it. All I can do is endure.