Hell en Pointe | Alastor ✓

chapter 25

So what is the fucking problem? Why are you so angry that he reminded you of your "enemy status" in the middle of having a decent, normal, civil conversation for fucking once? You were so mad, you were ready to barrel out of this stolen ass car with its tinted ass windows so that others couldn't see your bloody ass clothing next to this stupid ass motherfucker next to you.

It was then when you noticed the car coming to a halt in the parking lot of the inn. Alastor shut off the ignition, and the sounds of cars passing by on the highway was faint. There was a distant sound of Spanish music playing somehwere in the area, likely from a restaurant, and you could hear your own exhales.

The orange car lights faded until they weren't visible anymore, and the only way you could see was from the pale moonlight filtering in through the windshield. It smelled like gasoline, fried food, and cigarette smoke.

"Uh," you said, after a minute of just sitting there in silence, Alastor breathing slowly and methodically to himself. "Are we.. gonna go inside orrrr?"

"Covered in blood?" he said, not bothering to look at you. "Don't be ridiculous."

You scrunched your nose up. "Then what the fuck else are we supposed to do?"

"Take our clothes off."

Your mouth dropped. You stammered, unable to even form words. "Wha- What?! What the hell are we supposed to wear inside then?"

Alastor's gaze was fixated on something outside your window. You stitched your brows together; he was focused as to what he was looking at. Gradually, your gaze fell on the car beside you. Inside was a man reclined in the driver's seat, fast asleep. Probably couldn't afford a room in the inn.

"Oh," you said, chuckling dryly. You waved your hands around frantically. "Ohhhhh, no, no, no. Look, Alastor, I've already went off the rails once for you. I'm fucking bloodthirsty, and if I kill that man just for us to have some clothes to wear—"

"What?" Alastor interrupted with a smirk. The air was still and it was dead quiet out here. He placed a slender hand on the space between the drivers and passenger seats in the car, leaning slightly forward. "You'll... eat him?" He licked his lips.

"Yes!" you exclaimed in exasperation. You jabbed a finger at him, sneering. "Thanks to your fuckass."

"Cannibalism is a delight darling," he cooed.

"I- Ugh," you didn't even know what to say to that. "Whatever. My point is, I can't kill him, because chances are I'll end up tearing him apart and making him my dinner. I'm fucking craving blood now, and it's your fault." You glared at him, and then looked back to the sleeping man. His mouth was open, and you knew, even though you couldn't hear it, that he was snoring loudly. "Then the clothes will be ruined. How will we get a room without getting the cops called on us then?"

"Oh, [Y/N]," Alastor grinned. "I could teach you a thing or two about stealth killing."

You raised a brow. "Really? You could? You say that like I haven't done it before, which I have. I'm just saying, even if I tried to kill him quietly, the feeling of another life in my hands would push me too far. I'd rip him apart."

"Would you rip me apart, little fawn?"

"The fuck are you-"

"Get on my lap."

"What?" you said in disbelief. "How the hell is that supposed-"

"Get on my lap, look me in the eyes, and place your hands around my throat," said Alastor bluntly. "Then, fight it. Fight your urge to tear my throat out.