Death didn’t come. It was as if she had been chasing it down all this time, its clever guiles evading her each and every time her talons reached out to grasp for it. And when she finally managed to corner it – to literally reach out and grasp it – it vanished into thin air, nothing more than a fruitless dream. The instant she saw the change of light in Dante’s eyes, she knew. And it hurt. Both mentally and physically she was crying for her own death – for him to allow her one final gift before taking his victory from her flesh.
But he didn’t know. What they did to her, what they’d do. How they would open her head, toy with her insides, until she was nothing but a mutilated pile of flesh lying in a pool of her own blood and drool. Despite that, he was keeping her alive, and protecting her at the same time. His inability to kill her, and his frustration more so, mirrored the exact same feelings she had. Mutually, they couldn’t comprehend their own thoughts. They’d spent the last year fighting each other, trying desperately to kill the other. Nights went by where all they had on their mind was their rival’s death, that final delicious blow playing on repeat until there wasn’t anything more they wanted in life than for it to come true. To finally come to the climax and know that it was impossible…mutually, both of them were enraged.
Alice, however, couldn’t think past the wall of pain that had her in its tight grasp. Sure, he’d smacked her around with a pew, but that was like being hit by a quarter back and crawling to your feet minutes later. This was extraordinarily different. Pieces of her were missing. A shattered collarbone, torn muscle, and the inability to fly away and lick her wounds. Lovely.
Any complaints she might have had, however, were silenced in the calloused palms of Dante. Alice’s muffled whimpering was overshadowed by the man’s words; wide, shocked eyes looked up at him through glistening lavender beauties.
Why? She wanted an answer. Not, why was he doing this? Or, why was he taking the risk? No.
Why won’t you kill me?
Despite not wanting to be, she was on her feet. And then she was putting another coat on top of the one she already had. Air hissed through bared teeth, his muffled mocking eliciting the smallest smile on her broken expression.
“Not like you couldn’t afford another one.” The angel said weakly, bitterly. For all his flamboyant charm and stunning charisma, Alice had the fire, the beauty, the ambitiousness, and the realism. Every muscle in her body was as hard as stone, knowing full well that despite her want to die, instinct was still in place. She would take anything over being captured again.
And when she saw that crowd she almost ran right back into that room. Flashing, seizure inducing lights, and the sickening, rancid stench of human. For all the humanity she had found within herself, this was by far the most vehement thing she had ever laid eyes on. Sure, she’d had her share of parties and clubs, but had gained an affinity to them even as a simple human. Now it was all laid bare. Super human sights and smell showed her the diversity of such gruesome creatures. The air was thick with corruption and filth, and even as she hesitated behind Dante, she knew she would have to go. There was nothing else she could do. She had to trust him, or else manage to get the strength to tear through a brick wall.
When Dante grabbed her hand it was not talons that she flexed into his palm. Her fingers curled trustingly around his, surprising even herself as he dragged her into the cocktail of sweat and slime, right towards the men she so knowingly expected to shoot her any second. To see her flowing cerulean hair, those sharp, predatory eyes, and take her away. Again, the mercenary surprised her. All the preparation in the world couldn’t have made her ready for what he did. A gasp passed through lips already parted in excruciating pain – undetectable droplets of blood trailing behind her amidst the crowd. Of course, that was no different to the thousands of blood stains from countless needle injecting drug addicts.
It was him who made the first move this time. As she was sure he felt it, Alice felt it too. The familiarity of his touch sizzling into her skin. If only for a brief moment they both weren’t faking at all. That angelic body moved just as lithely, just as seductively as if they were truly committing the act, eyes lowered as if in a haze of cocaine.
“Dante…” Alice muttered, a question falling just as quickly as it had arisen, leaving just his name to lick from her tongue to the tip of his ear.
However, her muffled sobs and sniffles as her hands clung desperately to Dante’s coat were neither fake nor suppressed. Of course, many a passerby would attune these to the sounds of two intoxicated partners, dancing their own sexual rhythm to the beat of the music. That couldn’t be more untrue. For as those golden orbs glared daggers into her head, penetrating her soul like poisoned arrowheads, there was still something else that she could see.
Dante hated himself, yes. But that didn’t hide the fact that he wouldn’t, couldn’t, kill her. What was it that she saw…?
Then they were gone. And their…her…escape was right there.
Was it really that easy? Just…like that?
Those were the questions her eyes asked as Dante pulled away from her, hands still weakly grasping his shirt in their midst.
