Author's Note:

OH MY GOD YOU GUYS WROTE SUCH SWEET REVIEWS LAST TIME THANK YOU!

You're all such beautiful beans. Like seriously, thank you :)

Chapter 55:

Time. Everything takes time.

Two years of prep school got him into the academy at the top of his class despite the fact he wasn't a mage. Every one of his teachers, mentors, seniors all described him the same way; knowledgeable, judicious, a quick thinker with a cool head. He didn't falter under pressure, in fact, he was composed and sure even in the face of extreme circumstances. Some called him cold, others said his apathy was commendable and a standard of a good up and coming officer. It was if he were freshly pressed and minted just for the job, all crisp and white in uniform with a straight spine and a disposition for organization and timeliness.

He was always early, he was always efficient, he was always poised, and it was unnerving.

He'd started wearing a watch after he'd become a Lieutenant, a two-year project that he'd accomplished in a meager six months. But with a lack of magic came a lack of respect from his orderlies. He had to be careful and strict, show his men he had no tolerance for insubordination, and that started with punctuality. They were to be at his command as soon as it was required, not a moment late. He was not lax on dress code, he didn't allow his men to slouch in his presence or drop their guard. They were manicured to uphold a standard of perfection. Eat it. Breathe it. Live it.

That didn't mean to say Davian didn't hold himself to an even higher standard. His superiors often joked that he was too uptight, that even the Colonel wasn't so strict with regimen and protocol. Davian only ever offered a tight-lipped smile in reply, never missing how uneasy he made his colleagues when he almost showed his teeth in a grin. He felt the apprehension in the air when he was too near to his cadets or approached too silently the other officers. Innately, they knew he wasn't like them, that he was just too off, and it was just enough to scare them. And to be perfectly honest, Davian liked it that way. It kept them distant, it kept them quiet, it kept them from looking him in the eyes.

He was, for the time being, content to lay low and pretend he'd mastered his reckless ambition to break through the ranks and rise up the chain of command.

It was when he'd first heard of Kurogane from Phantom Lord that he saw the opportunity for advancement. He was a cadet at the time but that didn't make him any less determined to track down somethingto put the brute behind bars. It would make his career, after all, to have a man walking the fine, tight-rope of legal loopholes finally captured. Better men had tried and failed to bring him in and he would be the one to break the cycle, or so he thought. It wasn't long before Phantom Lord was uprooted, the snake of several heads finally seen for what it really was, and the lot of them scattered like sand on the wind. It was one of many missed chances and so he'd resigned quite easily to the fact that he'd never rightfully put the man in his proper place, although he did ensnare many others of his sort in his pursuit.

What he thoroughly hadn't expected was the telegram brought to his door one foggy morning when he'd happened to be off duty. But then, how could he really be surprised? He was well aware he had been watched his entire life. It was only a matter of time before his peace would be disrupted by the quiet of inhuman footsteps and the sound of a breath on the wind.

'Aeleora is dead. You will take the case.'

"Aeleora…" he'd hummed to himself, slipping back inside without a glance to the street for the culprit. It was Bianca's other name, a thing reserved for reverence among his people and not to be taken lightly. How serious.

He had manipulated his way to getting the case despite it being out of his jurisdiction. He'd had to convince his First Lieutenant and his Captain in person. It was the most humiliating and infuriating thing he'd had to do since joining Enforcement. Lieutenant Reid hadn't been the one to give him trouble, but rather the Captain who'd narrowed his eyes in suspicion. His name was Bazel Alloyways and they hadn't seen eye to eye since Davian had been promoted. The process was a slow and troubling one. It had taken weeks of requesting a formal meeting with a man who always seemed just a little too busy to trifle with him. He'd waited until the Captain was tired, bidding for an evening after a day's worth of paperwork and fighting with his subordinates had weighed him down. Smooth words usually got him what he wanted but not with Bazel who was more than privy to his silver tongue and always alert whenever Davian entered the room. He remembered how the man had snapped his eyes to his, never breaking the intimidating contact once during their conversation.

His glamour only worked so well and once someone was aware of the illusion it was all but shattered. This meant, much to Davian's chagrin, that Captain Bazel was very aware of the predatory eyes that he tried to keep hidden behind his spectacles; a trick that tended to keep inquisitive gazes from looking past his feeble shield. He had to take the very large risk of actually touchingthe man. He had to get creative. It needed to be natural, innocent, and simple or else the keen-eyed man would know what was going on and break the glamour. In the end, while they'd been drinking tea and pretending to be civil with each other, it ended up that Davian had bumped the Captain's cup and they'd both reached for it hastily. A brush was all it took, and Davian had taken his gloves off just moments before to ensure their skin would touch, and suddenly Bazel couldn't quite get a grip on what they'd been talking about any longer.

"The Ulrich Case, sir?" he'd said gently, drawing down his brows in mock concern, "You were assigning it to me."

"I… was…?" he'd said it more to himself than to Davian, glancing down at his hands as he tried to remember, and it was all the weakness he needed to sow the seed he'd planted.

"It's not my jurisdiction, Captain, but I'd happily take the case. I know staffing has been low as of late. I'm at your disposal."

"Of course," his expression had hardened after that as he convinced himself that indeed what Davian was saying was true, "I'll have the transfer arranged immediately. You'll have a new battalion under you. I'd imagine you'll whip them into shape just like the last group you worked with."

"Of course, sir," a tight smile made the Captain uneasy but he hid it masterfully, "I would hope it's expected of me at this point."

Time. So. Much. Time.

It was the most consuming project he'd had to work on and it was tedious. First, he'd had to mislabel packages of evidence. Not all at once, one box at a time. Inventory went missing. Kits, vials of questionable liquids, obviously stolen goods, notes of some kind he couldn't decipher, and, finally, bodies. Bianca's body had to go missing entirely, she hardly looked human by the time she'd died. Her eyes had been open, wide and staring with horror up at him with the same disgusting golden glint that his own had. Her nails were black claws and rows of sharp teeth were bared. He'd envied her, if he were honest. She hadn't taken very much from their father at all. It was almost cruel how human she looked even in death, although anyone else who saw her would disagree.

It took months of running around, of sleight of hand, of deceit, and of glamour clouding the minds of people involved before he'd finally dissolved enough of the damning evidence. It no longer looked like an act of passion but instead that of a madman who'd turned on his master and killed everyone in the facility. And who was the madman to commit such an atrocity? Why, none other than Kurogane of Phantom Lord, back from the dead, although the man looked a shadow of his former self. Opportunity was knocking but he disregarded it, thoroughly ready just to wipe his hands of the whole thing and be back to his usual.

But then he had to get another telegram.

'Deliver Aeleora's killer.'

"Dammit," he'd actually cursed out loud when he'd gotten it, had planned to ignore it entirely until he'd gotten a knock at his door late into the night a few days later. It had startled him and he'd approached the door with caution. Gazing out the peephole he'd seen nothing but a flick of his tongue told him all the information he needed to know.

"Is something wrong?" a soft voice came from the hall and pulled his attention back to one of his rooms where icy blue eyes gazed at him from the doorway. Irena, his partner, watched with sleep still on her face as he stood with one hand on the doorknob looking as if he'd just been caught sneaking out.

"No, darling," he said gently, "I think it's just a prank. Lay back down, dear, I'm going to check the perimeter."

"Perimeter?" her lip tugged into a ghost of a smile.

"The yard," he corrected and she seemed pleased enough, slipping back to her room in silence.

He'd stepped out onto the porch and shut the door quietly behind him. The night was warm and yet he had donned his long white jacket and gloves as soon as he'd left his bedroom. A slight shimmer at his peripheral caught his eye and he glanced over as the figure appeared, the hunched, massive form of a humanoid. The figure straightened and stepped forward, towering above him with a hiss as it approached.

"Orthinosss."

"My name is Davian," he'd said coolly, "Please address me as such."

"The name your mother chose?" the noise was a death rattle, a wheeze, the scraping of stones against glass, and it rasped deep in its throat as if the effort to speak at all was immense, "How mawkish of you."

"If you'd please," he stood his ground, never moving even as it stepped closer. The form hummed, shivered, dissipated and reappeared. It was difficult to look straight on but Davian did anyway, eyes trained at the center, the only thing that didn't change or shift.

"You would forsake me, my favorite son?" the voice shivered like a living thing around him, vibrating against his skin, and with just the intonation he knew it wasn't the name that was being referenced.

"I can't expect you to understand what my career means to me."

The form shifted again, trembled, "Of courssse…" the voice crumpled and became a whisper before regaining some of its former power, "…far more important than blood. Your own sister."

"I implore you to think more long term," he breathed.

"Long term…" another shiver and Davian tasted blood in the air, "…you have no idea what long term means, child."

A hand reached out and landed gently on his shoulder and he forced himself to remain still, to stare at the shimmering form in front of him. His father's glamour had made him dizzy as a child but now it just invoked a mild headache. It was like staring at a body made of smoke when you had double vision. There was nothing to see and yet it was rigid, right in front of him, shuddering and writhing like a swarm of maggots beneath bulging, rotted flesh. The mind couldn't comprehend what was standing just inches away.

"I want my daughter's killer, Davian," hot breath fell on him and it smelled like a fresh kill.

"How unlike you to fixate on something so trivial," his words were dying in his throat as he spoke. Father had his hold on him.

"My reasons are my own," something tapped his shoulder, a steady drip that made his mouth water. His mind wasn't working properly. He felt he was in a haze, "Anyone who witnessed Bianca will be silenced. You will do this for your father."

"Time…" his lungs felt like they couldn't get enough air, as if he'd been running, "It's going to take time."

"I have time," the hand released him and he could have collapsed where he stood if it weren't for his pride keeping his knees locked. He was acutely aware of something making noise but couldn't figure out what is was or how to address it.

"If I'm caught?" his words shivered on his lips.

The figured moved away like a ghost in the wind and the hand brushed his face gently in the same way a loving parent might wipe tears from their child's cheek, but instead of drying away sadness, Davian felt something slick and warm on his father's hands. Human blood made him weak as the smell invaded his nose and skewed even further his mind from its focus.

"You take after me," it rumbled over him, around him, inside of him, and suddenly Davian's body was beginning to feel feverish. His skin itched and he felt emptiness making his stomach ache greedily, "Blood brings out the beast. You need a good meal, Orthinos."

"I… I can't," the words were honest and it was frightening. One did not show weakness to his father, "I don't."

"The pet."

?…the… pet… …the pet…? …My-

"I asked you to call me Davian."

The figure straightened and even though Davian couldn't see it he knew it was leering down at him.

"Davian," it purred, stepping back into the night, "Satiate your hunger, my son, and rest."

He watched until the figure vanished entirely and still he gazed into the black around his home. He realized the noise was his watch, sounding an alarm at his side where he still cinched together gloved fists. Methodically, he switched off the alarm, pulled out a package of tablets from his pocket and slipped one to his tongue. It took him two attempts to swallow it and once he did he glided a hand behind him to open the door and step back inside, closing it quietly.

He was ravenous and when he ate it was with all of the ferocity and lack of restraint as a man who'd been starved their entire life, had never been taught to eat in moderation, to pace, to take small bites.

He'd awoken from his spell to find the freezer empty and blood covering his hands and face.

His alarm was going off.

Time. What was the time?

He stopped the alarm and realized it was early morning. He'd scrubbed the blood from his skin, bleached it from the floors and his clothes, and dressed for work. He departed for work before Irena woke and left her a note. They'd need to go out for dinner.

He had trouble focusing on his associates that day, feeling a strange severance from them, from himself, from everything. He'd hated it, hated them, hated what his father's touch could reduce him to. It was detrimental to everything he worked so carefully to craft. His own glamour was broken, if it weren't for the tablets he wouldn't have been able to work, and he'd spent the day reclusive with eyes focused downwards.

He despised conspiring with criminals, hated making deals. He'd had to damn near force his way into the Phantom Riser's fort and corner Unaven. If he were any other he would have been intimidated but he was well aware of their kind. They'd roll onto their bellies and play a friendly game to keep from being put in jail, only resorting to violence against an officer as a last resort as it tended to be far more disadvantageous for them otherwise.

The man was slimy. Even the air around him tasted hostile and savage; there was n hidden animalistic intent that Davian had no desire to pick at. He spoke like a leader and carried himself with confidence but Davian found manipulating him to his desires war far easier than anything he'd had to face with other officers, eluding to him a weakness the man was probably completely unaware of. Cruel men had a penchant for needing revenge and the redhead was no different. The bargain was struck and Davian had left drained but confident.

And then it was a waiting game again.

Things didn't go how he'd intended but that mattered little. It was sinfully easy compared to all of the agonizing he'd had to go through in the beginning. The only thing that had truly caught him off guard was when the Colonel had called him for a meeting. He'd, of course, shown up ten minutes early. He carried with him a recommendation for Serrill, something that Captain Bazil had refused to meet with him on. He'd even stopped answering his calls.

The office had been freshly carpeted, the smell of the warehouse still clinging to the fibers. His desk was massive and mahogany, the insignia of the Magic Council etched into its surface, and portraits of his simple, nuclear family adorned the left corner. The man held an intimidating presence but Davian had seen him before and so it was easy to quell any nervousness he might have felt. The man was six feet tall with a shock of silver hair amidst his jet black. A master of Defense and Dispel Magics, he'd earned his position after defending against invasion three decades prior. An entire city, Davian had heard, he'd kept unharmed through three weeks of siege. A formidable man. He fully deserved to have the title Colonel Ansel Fletcher emblazoned in gold on his desk.

"Lieutenant Bishop," his voice was just the sort you'd expect from a man who was used to dispelling his adversaries with a flick of his wrist; confident, bold, and just slightly tinged with his age, "I didn't expect you for another few minutes."

"I make a habit of always being early, sir," he bowed at the hip before he sat down, pushing his glasses so they sat at the top of his nose. He wore his wider frames today, a precaution, "Thank you for having me."

He smiled easily although Davian was sure the impressed look in his eye was a charade, "Good man. I'd been hearing good things about you, Davian, and I wanted to talk to you in person about a few things."

"Of course, sir," Davian offered him a steady look in reply, making his voice light to make up for his lack of feeling. The Colonel pulled out a stack of papers he'd had tucked in a black file at his side. He pulled out a few and rifled through them.

"I've been told you finally found enough evidence to put Kurogane behind bars? Not a small feat, Bishop, not a small feat."

"I wish I could take the credit, sir, but I cannot. It was Cadet Serrill who did the work of bringing in the evidence, I was just the squad leader. I've actually been trying to get a letter of recommendation to Captain Bazil. The boy is bright. I'd enjoy to see him advance."

"That so?" Colonel Ansel motioned at the binder Davian had brought with him and he procured the papers, "Good man… you know, a weaker leader would have taken credit for that accomplishment, Bishop."

"I just aim to get the bad guys caught, sir, I'm not a stickler for who does it."

"It's interesting you should say that, Lieutenant, because I just so happen to have pulled some of your cases and I'm not going to lie to you, it's mighty impressive. You've been working hard, Lieutenant, pulling long hours. It hasn't gone unnoticed."

"You flatter me, Colonel."

"You flatter yourself, my good man. I'm just stating the facts,"

Davian offered him a closed-mouthed smile, "If I man, sir, what exactly is this about? Not that I don't enjoy hearing you talk of my accomplishments."

"Right to the point, then," the Colonel's smile faded slightly, but the look of mirth in his eyes didn't diminish, "As you know, staffing has been short as of late and there's about to be a slight shift in personnel. It should go without saying that what I'm about to say won't leave this office until there has been a debriefing of all units."

"Oh dear, I do hope no one is getting fired." Ah, that could have sounded arrogant.

"Captain Bazil is taking an extended leave of absence. The man is… unstable."

Davian's eyes widened but he quickly schooled himself, "I'm… so sorry to hear that, sir. That's… I can't imagine what could have caused such a thing."

"Yes, well, from the sounds of his ravings I would imagine he's been watching a few too many conspiracy shows," he grunted and Davian swallowed an intrigued noise that threatened to ease from the back of his throat. Had the man been onto him after all? "Anyway, we have someone lined up to fulfill his duties however it is leaving quite the opening and I wanted to ensure that the position was offered to you first and foremost."

"Interesting… Do go on."

"Don't say that so soon, Lieutenant," he hushed him abruptly and steepled his hands, rapping his fingertips lightly against one another, "Now… the opening is a substantialpromotion but it does come with added duties that some might find… undesirable. I'm hoping you'll be able to see past this as you seem to be an extremely driven young man. You're going places, son, and I want you streamlined to get there as quickly as possible."

Davian quirked a curious brow at him, "Sir?"

"You see, the Captain was going to be taking over for Major Ware when he retires next month and… well… for obvious reasons that won't be coming to fruition," Davian's eyes widened and this time he didn't attempt to hide it, "Now, the Major had quite an extensive laundry list, son. He had a lot of responsibility, a lot of men he had to control. I'm not worried about you whipping his men into shape, I've already seen what you've done to every squadron you've been charged with. What concerns me is the running of Ember Island Maximum Security Prison."

"Do you doubt my abilities, Colonel?" Davian quelled a wicked lilt that had snuck into his voice but Ansel hadn't missed it. In fact, a wry grin tugged the corner of his mouth upwards.

"Not at all, Lieutenant. Most men would hear something like that and turn down the job, yet you seem to rise to the challenge."

He almost allowed himself to chuckle, "I am not most men, Colonel."

The Colonel stood and held out his hand, a proud look on his face, "Well then… congratulations on your new position, Major Bishop. I have your first assignment."

Davian had left with fire blazing in his chest and the object he'd sought after for so many excruciating months. Months. This project had been monthsin the making and finally there was a light at the end of the tunnel, an end to his mindless pursuit. He was elated to the point of aberrance and in mad haste he gathered together his men and pulled the first containment carriage he could come by. With Serrill at his side they struck for Magnolia, making brilliant speed despite the cold and snow, and so he arrived once again at the Redfox home with warrant in hand.

Finally, Finally, Finally.

"You seem in a good mood, Lieutenant." Serrill had muttered at his side when he'd knocked on the door.

"Cadet, you have not the slightest idea."

It was, Kurogane himself who'd opened the door. Davian could smell the sleep on him but those eyes were keen, scarlet and driving straight into him despite being half-lidded. The Dreyar boy was behind him, nearly ablaze with fury and with teeth clenched.

"Mr. Dreyar," he tried not to be smug as he extended the rolled parchment, "You did instruct me not to return without this."

He'd snatched it from his fingers, a snarl on his lips as he tore it open, and slowly as he read the blonde's eyes widened and his jaw set. Yellow sparks quickly turned to tendrils of electricity threatening the space around him as his eyes snapped to him, wild and furious.

"This… this isn't right…!" he seethed and he turned his outrage to Redfox, his teeth nearly bared as he spoke, "This is for the murder of Unaven!"

Kurogane's eyes never left him and to Davian's sheer and utter surprise, rage was not incited at those words. He stood there, arms crossed and lips pulled into a tight line, looking as if he had seen this coming a mile away and was no longer surprised at his fate. It was… strange.

"I see."

"He was alive when we left him!" the Dreyar boy turned on Davian again and lightning seared up the wall, singeing wallpaper and blowing a nearby lamp.

"Evidence doesn't lie, Mr. Dreyar."

"What evidence?!"

"Why, his body," he practically scoffed, "Bound to the wall with iron struts and pierced through the chest. It did miss his heart, I'm afraid. Quite the slow and painful way to go, wouldn't you say, Mr. Redfox?"

Nothing. Not a flinch. Not even a hint of indignation.

"Wouldn't be my choice."

What? What was this… this passiveness? This acceptance of a fate that was not truly his to receive? Did he simply not care? The blonde reacted for the both of them as his rage provoked a fresh stream of lightning to fire tracks into the floor.

"This isn't happening!" he growled, making a move like he was going to come at Davian and the raven finally reacted. He grabbed a hold of his arm, stopping him even as electricity raced up his arm and snapped at his shoulder. He gritted his teeth at the pain and his partner looked back at him, a clear lack of understanding on his features, "How can you stand for this?!"

"I don't really have a choice, Laxus," he spoke gently, steadily, and Davian was stunned.

"No… No! You're not doin' this! Not for a crime you didn't even commit!" again, lightning raced up the raven's arm and this time he winced, still refusing to anger.

"Gajeel, Laxus… what's going on?" a deep voice sounded from the hall. A small cat stepped from around the corner, a pink scar blazing across his eye. He looked at Davian and then to the couple. Laxus deactivated slightly and Gajeel glanced over at him, forcing a lighter expression to don his features.

"Eh… sorry, Lil. We didn't mean to wake you."

"What's going on?" he asked again, a tinge of worry to his voice this time.

"I'm about to leave…" he glanced to Davian and back to the cat, "I… will you grab my bag for me?"

"…yeah…" wings, the cat grew wings and flitted away. He returned moments later with a satchel and the raven rifled through it, pulling out a handful of peppermint leaves before throwing the bag onto a nearby armchair. Redfox looked up at his partner for a moment and the two just watched each other's eyes before a subtle grin touched his features.

"Take care of Lily for me," he leaned up and placed the gentlest, chaste kiss on his lips, "Try not to miss me too much, yeah?"

The lightning stopped but Davian could still feel the magic boiling. The Dreyar boy didn't respond.

"You should get in touch with Hajime. He's kept some money for me so… you can use that for my share of rent… ya shouldn't have to take more jobs just cuz I'm not around," he stepped towards Davian and finally released his hold on the blonde, "I love you."

He crossed his arms and the anger seemed to fade, the room was a little less charged, the air a little thinner, "You too."

The man led the way out of his own house and up to the carriage. He didn't fight, didn't attempt to run, he just walked. As he stepped up to the open door, Davian heard a crack above him and lightning flashed through the cloudy winter sky. Gajeel was gazing up as well when another flash landed across the street, deafening them with thunder and rocking the carriage with the vibration and noise. Heated wind whipped by from the blast and Kurogane ducked into the carriage, slipping one of the leaves into his mouth as he did. Davian settled opposite him and the door closed, sealing them in together.

"Dramatic, isn't he?" he mused as more thunder erupted around them.

"Try not to hold it against him," the man huffed, leaning into the corner with crossed arms, "You have no idea how angry he is right now."

"Is that so? And all for your sake? You must be delighted."

"Hope yer not expectin' conversation," he sighed, putting another leaf into his mouth, "Dragon Slayers are infamous for their motion sickness. I plan on sleeping the entire trip."

"Of course."

That was it. That was all that was said and Davian found himself stewing in his seat.

Why did he comply so easily? Even stop his love from being outraged in his stead? This man that was known for his anger, his spite, his ferocity, resigned without fight or fret to be escorted to prison. It was underwhelming. It was disappointing. It was bitter. He bit it down, the feeling in his gut that felt far too similar to guilt than he was comfortable with. Kurogane deserved this. He deserved imprisonment and so much more. How many men had he killed? How long had he skirted on the coattails of legalities?

He swallowed the feelings down, glaring over to the man in the corner. He deserved this. And with his capture came a slew of good things on Davian's horizon. A promotion, a move, a comfortable office instead of field work, and his father finally satisfied. Everything was in alignment.

He had his time to himself once again.

It was late the next day before he was finally able to go home. His promotion had been formally announced and he was scheduled to move the next week. He'd have a new house of his choosing on the mainland. Despite the winter chill he felt warm. Things were moving his way. Finally.

A drip on the sidewalk leading to his house caught his eye. It was an odd thing to notice and he told himself it was inconsequential, but then he'd spotted another. And another. Strange. He narrowed his eyes in the dark, staring at the drips in the snow leading down his street, growing more frequent. A quick glance let him know he was alone and so he'd flicked out his tongue. He stopped, locked in place as something that felt like fingers clasped around his heart.

Hungry.

He felt the blood rush from his limbs. He was horrified. Like a spring all of his muscles released and he sprinted down the street. The droplets became more and more prevalent until it was a trail up his steps, a partial handprint on the door. He wrenched the thing open, not realizing it had been locked.

Hungry.

"Irena?"

She wasn't in the living room but he could smell her blood and it made his head dizzy. There were groceries on the table still in their bags and red on the counter. He lunged for it, the red smear that marred the marble. It smelled savory and fresh and warm and when was the last time he'd eaten?His skin itched, the tips of his fingers ached and his palms were sweating so he ripped off his gloves to expose black nails that were growing longer, sharper.

"Davian?"

His eyes locked on the hall. He could see the bend in his mind, he knew the door was shut because of her muffled call.

"Is that you?"

Hungry.

His vision skewed. The emptiness was real and visceral and made a pit in his stomach. He was hot so he wrestled himself free of his cloak and jacket. He almost tripped on his own feet trying to get out of the kitchen.

In an instant he was in front of the door. He could hear water running.

"Don't come in I'll-"

The door was open but he didn't remember opening it.

"I ran into someone-"

He stared at her arm.

"-the package must have been open-"

A razorblade protruded from brown skin.

"-I was trying to get it out-"

Beads and pearls of blood slipped down her arm and stained the porcelain sink scarlet, turned water red and filled the air with humidity and the warm scent.

Hungry.

He couldn't hear her words anymore. He stepped past the threshold. The floor slanted beneath his feet, angling him towards her. They were on the ground. His clawed hand was tight around her forearm.

You need a good meal.

She was beneath him or he was over her and everything was cold except for she who was hot and full and delicious and everything he wasn't and he could smell her and blood everywhere and it was red everywhere red he was starving to the point of insanity he needed to eat tear rend consume and thisvoice wasn't human wasn't his wasn't there but all around them and it vibrated the air like the goddamn need driving sharp teeth and claws and it had been ages it had been ages IT HAD BEEN AGES SINCE HE HAD A GOOD MEAL.