Lips Of An Angel

N/A · 07-11-2013, 04:50 PM

He was hurt. He would've been on the brink of death had it not been for the little medic. Even now, despite his body screaming bloody murder, he could already feel some of his strength beginning to return, though it was a far cry from his normal state. He would need several days, perhaps even a week of recovery in order to be back to his full power. And he knew for a fact that he didn't want his sister there with him. Not a fucking chance. She was threatening the little nymph, his little nymph as his somewhat pain-dazed mind was already thinking. He could see the murder written clearly in her coral gaze and he hated it. He hated her. He'd always hated her, but in this rare, confusing moment in time, he wanted her dead. If she wanted to kill the little nymph, she was going to have to rip him limb from bloody fucking limb before she touched a hair on the little medic. He'd never had the urge to protect anyone, except for his sister, but only because she was his blood. But now he was standing before the marbled little girl, using his massive body as physical barrier between her and his sister. Was it possible that the once murderer was now finding redemption in the form of this girl?

Jealous? Tell me brother, of what? Who is it that you always come back to? You are in no position to make threats. Stupid fucking bitch. Of course she was jealous. She was a damn liar. Every female he'd tried to sleep with since arriving in these forsaken lands she had come to scare off because she couldn't stand the thought of him being with anyone else. Even if she wouldn't admit to herself, he knew better. She was bitterly jealous, and even more so that he was with the little nymph, a female unworthy and undeserving of him in the eyes of his sister. But he didn't give a rat's ass if she was jealous or not. He could do what he liked. And if he wanted to leave her and be with the little nymph, then he could. Be with the little nymph...That wasn't possible, was it? This man, the one standing before the marbled girl wasn't him. He didn't let others tend to him, not even Cataleya. He took care of himself on his own and he murdered anyone who got in his way because that's what he'd been doing his whole life. And yet the little medic behind him inspired something inside of the hellion...Hope? Hope that maybe somewhere inside his torn up chest laid a real heart, one that had been buried for years, needing to be discovered by the right wolf? Was it possible that Demyan wasn't as damned as he'd always believed himself to be?

Maybe that's all about to change little sister. I might be hurt, but I can push past all of it to end you, here and now, even if I die in the process, if you touch her. And you know me well enough to know that I don't make idle promises or threats. His voice was pained, it's timbre not ringing as strong as if he hadn't been hurt, but it was still powerful and the meaning clear. Hate filled cyan gaze watched as his sister mirrored his own posture, preparing herself for a fight. The gargantuan tensed in response, muscles rippling throughout his body as he adjusted his stance to one of defensive rather than offensive. Even if he could muscle through the pain, he wasn't about to be the idiot for the second time that day and throw himself at his sister. He would only fight if she came forward and instigated it. Otherwise, he wasn't moving away from the little nymph. Even a spare moment given to his sister could be dangerous.

And then to his surprise the little marbled nymph was moving out from behind him, coming up to stop by his shoulder, pleading with his sister. Please. I-I'm sorry that I didn't leave when I was told to. That-that was rude of me - But I was only trying to help. Your brother was-is hurt. I promise, if you let him rest, I'll leave right away - or-or I could keep tending him, if you didn't mind. She allowed her pelt to brush against his, if only by the slightest touch, but that slight touch shot a current of emotion through the usually murderous man. It wasn't a current of lust, or want or anything that usually came with the touch of his sister or anyone other female. It was something different...something foreign...Tender even, but what it was he couldn't quite place his paw on it. He just knew it that moment that he would lay down his life for this little nymph, this brave little medic that came to his aid despite the risks to her own safety. Today, tomorrow and for the rest of his days. He brushed back against her, allowing his shoulder to press against hers, his body slightly angled towards his left, as if to step before her once more, crown turned in the direction of his sister. Leave Cataleya. Now. Or you can forget that I was ever your brother. If you want to touch her, come and try, but know that if you kill me today, I will drag down to hell's depths with me, so long as she stays alive. He was the only family she had left and to loose him would be to have no one.

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