Lips Of An Angel

N/A · 07-10-2013, 11:40 PM

Absolutely nothing made sense right now. He was still breathing when he should've been dead. The little dame -whose name he still didn't know and who still didn't know his name- had come to help him with nothing better of a reason than because she was a healer. He had allowed her to her help him and he hadn't killed her or even touched a hair on her smaller frame. That was completely unlike Demyan. He didn't just let other wolves go without harm. Every wolf that crossed his path was left with a reminder of him. Mostly physical, except for that white bitch who had been rescued by her pack mates. The point was, no one escaped his clutches unscathed. And yet the black and white nymph was in one single piece, now standing behind him as he squared off with his sister, the large man acutely aware of the pulsing beneath his sealed wound that was beginning to leak. Cataleya could never leave him be, could she?

He had seen the look of fear that had taken hold of her sapphire eyes as he'd risen to go towards her. He could see the slight pulsing of her jugular as her nerves jumped into high gear. She was afraid. Of him. Because she thought he was going to kill her. If he'd wanted to kill her, he could've done it the moment she'd begun to patch him up, but for some reason he didn't. And he still wasn't going to kill her. For once in his damned life, the hellion wasn't going to kill another of his kin. What was it about this little medic that prevented him from ending her life? He wished he knew. But for the first time since her arrival, the brute had allowed his cyan gaze to meet hers steadily, trying to convey what he hoped was a reassuring look before he turned away, his body screaming at him in protest with each shift. He ignored the pain the best that he could, powerful jaws clenching together as he stiffened his stance, raising his massive skull so that his burning cyan gaze met his sister's coral one. He wasn't sure why he was protecting the little nymph behind him, but he would be damned and it would have to be over his dead, mangled corpse that his bitch of a sister would touch the nymph.

He couldn't see the expression in the little medic's face now that she was behind him, but he could feel something almost akin to calmness coming over her. Had she accepted that the man who had just moments ago divulged that he loved killing was now the one protecting her from danger? She didn't have much of a choice. Demyan was going to defend her whether she liked or not because his sister wasn't going to touch a single black or white hair on the medic's little body if he had something to say about it. He felt a brush against his tail and he realized it was the nymph. She moved closer to him, possibly now seeing him as her only means of protection against the almost raging silvery bitch. Onyx tipped whipcord brushed against the nymph's forelegs, his acknowledgement of her close proximity to him. With a quiet hiss, the man moved himself a paw step back, his hind paws now standing before hers. As long as she stayed behind him, she was going to be safe.

Since when do you take a liking to the young and helpless? Jealous much? He could feel his irritation begin to pulse beneath his silver coat, the occasional drip of crimson becoming more steady. He was loosing blood, but it didn't matter. As long as he kept the little nymph out Cataleya's clutches, he could loose all the blood necessary to ensure that. Mind your own fucking business you jealous bitch. Fuck off. Now. Because if you decide to come and try anything, if you attempt to even swipe at her, I'm going to rip your fucking throat, but from the inside out. His voice was a deep, rumbling bass, his words sharper than shards of ice as his body shifted into a fighting stance, powerful shoulders rolling, steel-like muscles rippling beneath his gray coat. Even if he died protecting her, he would make sure he brought his dear little sister with him.

Talk like this

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