Demon Begging

Chapter 13

Demons aren't in Hell. They're right here.

*NARRATOR'S POV*

The crowd was confused judging by their dead silence as soon as the dagger came down. It was in total violation of the fight's rules. No weapons were allowed. Harry's back took a stab to the shoulder blade, and the blade was dipped in pure water so it easily penetrated his hard skin.

Everything around everyone was dead, even the wind stood still in wait. Louis saw it all and the scream he let out in Harry's name was drowned out by the shriek Harry let's out. The fight was over as soon as a weapon was used and now Harry lost.

Harry crumbled to his knees but clenched his fists and held the on-comers away. He was finishing this, and now that all the rules were thrown out, he was going to make a show of it.

"Shouldn't have gotten cocky." Harry spits black blood at the flame and the entire ring turns red from orange. "Because now I'll have to kill you slowly."

Victor dropped the dagger and Harry eyed it speculatively before glancing at Ares. The dragon hurled it into the air with his tail, before blowing bright flames and destroying it.

"I'll have fun though." Harry taunts. "I always do."

Louis is fighting the urge to stop everything because Harry's back won't heal unless Louis nurses it, only he can. The blood runs in a uniformed ravine down Harry's back, dripping onto the ground where it sizzles and kills grass blades when in contact. Demon blood killed everything. Almost everything.

Harry lunges at Victor, pinning him to the ground just when Ares leaves the circle. It is no longer going to call for misconduct so the dragon goes immediately to its person's side, nudging Louis' cheek with its own.

"Est Licuit, Ares." Louis gets bumped continually until he's safely on Ares' back as a precaution. (It's alright, Ares)

Ares settles on the ground, accommodating the tight hold Louis' has on his neck. The dragon never wore armour, but in its primal brain it almost hopes to have had on some gear now.

All eyes are on Harry, on Victor and trained on the ring of vivid red flame. It's the colour of a Phoenix's feathers, no doubt.

When Harry had Victor on the ground, the demon didn't waste his effort with the matters of a usual brawl like most fights. He looked at his hands, where his nails had become clear razor claws. With a smirk that revealed too much horrifying teeth, Harry dug his fingers into Victor's throat.

He didn't slice or scratch, he did what he has particularly enjoyed since first being initiated as a man of the devil himself. He dug into the flesh, and heard it being ripped as Victor's screams were

man of the devil himself. He dug into the flesh, and heard it being ripped as Victor's screams were choked off with blood. He felt it tear in his grasp and it was beautiful to him.

When he found the jugular, Harry yanked it out like a coil of string. But naturally, the jugular veins are in a set and easily snapped between his fingers. Blood filled the open throat, like a bowl filling up and spilled over just when Victor's body took its last breath.

Louis felt his neck throb painfully, and like a lightning bolt it spread to his chest until he was coughing repeatedly. It was the severing of a bond, caused by a mate's death. They never had sex, and so it didn't hurt even half as much as it would have if this took place a day later.

Ares had his body rigid and upright, ready for flight as his rider's body was flooded with unsure negative emotions. The dragon growled and his eyes turned to slits.