WIP

2

"Of course! You couldn't have been dead! Of course this could not at just killed you! Pathetic human!" Blair cursed, wrapping his arms around the limp form and throwing it over his shoulder. It was the waiter from earlier, but, as he was about to leave the boy decided to make it known that he WAS in fact alive. The brunette sat up with glowing red eyes that are not normal for a human and opened his mouth as if to speak, but instead retched all over Blair's shoes.

"Disgusting!" The demon cried kicking open the door and exiting through the back door to the pub. Loud base echoed out into the alley way, throughout the darkness and into the city streets fading into the night. Blair never expected this to be his luck, after all he was careful with who he sunk his fangs into. Just drinking the blood of every human, he comes across could lead to a very unwanted hoard of newbloods wandering the streets. Young demons have an unquenchable thirst for the blood of humans. Without an experienced adult, there with them they are likely to kill a noticeable percentage of the human population. And for the progenitor demon council, that would be very bad.

It would also be very bad for Blair. His relationship with the council was already a double-edged sword, but, the progenitors were too lax to kill him because he corrected all their mistakes. Blair's official employment title was 'demon hunter.' Even though it was some sort of oxymoron for him to kill his own kind, Blair had no boundaries.

Once he made it home a dumped the lifeless body on his bed, Blair slammed his fists into the dresser knocking makeup and glass perfume vials to the floor. He glanced into the mirror, his bangs fell into his face shrouding his golden eyes from view. Blood ran down his chin where his fang pinched the delicate skin of his lips between them. Its such a shame, he thought. He was so beautiful yet felt so terrible inside. Glancing back behind himself in the mirror, Blair studied the ill-looking figure on the bed. The waiter was curled on his side with his head resting over the edge of the mattress. He had his hands pressed over his abdomen and from the way he was shaking uncontrollably it was obvious that he was in pain. The boy curled his toes into the comforter and coughed, one hand reaching out for the bucket placed next to the bed. With a sigh, Blair straightened and made his way over to the human.

"Why don't you just give up?" He asked, taking the boy's hand away and pushing his head back so he could stroke two fingers over his throat. The change often caused its victim to feel as if they were choking, the lack of oxygen to the brain caused by a gasping victim usually made many who went through it nauseous. Blair often thought it better to comfort with unnecessary securities then to distress with the truth, hence, the bucket. But because Blair was of high blood, the change was slightly worse for this human. Ebony blood is a color only progenitors are born with. If Blair had been anything more than a progenitor's love child, cast away and unwanted, he would've been a progenitor. The seventeenth one to be exact. But, none of that matters now.

Stroking the human's hair until he stopped coughing was calming to the demon. He sat his chin on the mattress nearest to the child's face and watched the slight flare of his nose as he breathed. Freckles were splattered all over the bridge of the boy's nose as well as his cheeks. They complimented his skin, tanned from too many days outside under the heat, with their copper color. It was insignificant details like this that made Blair jealous of humans. They had so many details, traits distinctive to each of them, that defined them as individuals. While demons were all the same with their olive skin and slender builds. Naturally they were each also born with the same ebony hair, though many chose to toy with magic in order to change that. Blair found makeup to be a fun alternative to deadly spells. Although he tended to treat eyeliner as war paint at times.

Suddenly, the boy groaned and pushed Blair's hand away weakly. Blair sat up and watched diligently as the human rolled onto his other side atop the mattress and sat up. It seemed to take the boy a while to fully come to himself. He sat on the edge of the bed, shirtless and wearing nothing more than shorts, his skin was slick with a thin sheen of sweat from the fever that was sure not to break any time soon. From the way, his hands were shaking, it would defiantly be soon, he behaved as though the edge of the bed could prevent him from plummeting to the floor.