He knew I was dying before I did. But he was an assassin: trained to see and cause this and he had seen many deaths like mine to know what it was. Mine was the only one that had impacted on him. I am not arrogant, not about this at least, it is simply fact. He was so handsome, even beautiful in a masculine way despite being covered almost head to toe in my blood. My blood darker than any humans clashed with his pale skin and gave an ugly red tint to his dark hair. I stared at him knowing that I would not see him ever again. He spoke me but in the growing haze of my mind I could not understand what he was saying, only that he was speaking. Oh, he asked, no begged, me not to leave him alone. His face twisted in fury now. It was a face he only ever used for me. A face that said he was furious with something I did or said but with a hint of exasperation. Only this time the exasperation was replaced with desperation. He didn't want me to leave him all alone. Like the others did.
He yelled at me telling that my promises are binding, how could I break my word to him? I remembered my promise and, even though I was dying, the fog cleared a bit. A jealous and possessive rush overtook me. He was –
"Mine," I gasped, losing my vision temporarily. His eyes widened, black commas spinning. He was Mine and he always would be. My arm twitched before I stopped myself in disgust. I had sworn to myself that he and I would be together.
"Forever."
As my life left me, I felt satisfaction. Because it was true and it will happen. We would be happy. But, not now.
Soon.