In order to defeat the man who murdered his entire family, Adrian, a vampire, kidnaps a demon to do his bidding - a decision he will soon regret.
*****
Micah is all out of luck. He escaped from the de...
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-Adrian-
I wasn't quite sure why I was sleeping on the couch. Or why my liquor cabinet looked like an elephant had crashed into it. Or why there were paintings on the floor. I was also curious about all the blood.
"Micah..." I growled angrily, trying to sit up, but the movement gave me a headache. I felt like my skull was in tiny pieces. "Bloody cat..."
"You called?"
Micah's face showed up in my view. He had a smirk on his lips, when he looked down at me.
"What the hell happened here?" I asked, trying to sound threatening, but even I could hear how weak I was.
"Yeah, sure, act like nothing happened," Micah sighed and marched away.
I was gaining my memories back, but I suddenly knew I didn't want to remember anything. I didn't care about the fight we had. Us making out afterwards didn't mean anything to me either, but what Micah had said about my inner beast... It wasn't the first time I had been told that I had to accept my inner evil, but it still made me angry. Micah knew nothing about me, no one did.
I took a deep breath, rubbing my temples. I stood up and followed Micah down in the basement and into his room. He was playing with his hair. It took me a moment to realize his hair was now almost white.
"You dyed your hair," I said out loud.
"No shit, Sherlock," Micah said with a mocking tone.
I grit my teeth together to prevent myself from lashing out at him again. I was impressed by my ability to stay calm, even with the headache.
"I am trying to be nice," I spoke behind my gritted teeth.
"Oh, so that's your mood today? It must be Sunday," Micah snorted.
"Micah, please," I muttered.
"No, stop that. It would actually mean something if you actually tried to be nice to me," he said with an annoyed tone. "If I need to kick your ass every time I want you to be nice –"
"I already said I'm sorry!" I growled, but then contained my anger. "I just wanted to see how you're doing. I didn't hold anything back when we–"
"When I kicked your sorry ass," he corrected with an attitude.
"Fine – when you kicked my sorry ass," I muttered. "Seems like you're doing fine."
"Like you care," he murmured, folding his towel, and putting it away.
"Why do you have to be so goddamn difficult?!" I yelled, before I could even think about acting nice.
"Because you're full of bullshit!" he screamed, turning to face me. "'I'm trying to be nice'. Well, fuck you! You're trying to be nice for ten minutes, but then you either go mental and tear me apart, or start calling me a stupid cat! AND I'M NOT EVEN A FUCKING CAT!"
