The Elf and Her Dragon Mate

I. Wilt My Roses |*Edited

There is something horrible; this, broken in my hand, is one of those he threw just now; it will not live another hour; there are thousands more; you do not miss a rose.

°•○●Charlotte Mew●○•°

The roaring background of people cheering and smashing glass bottles together blended into nothingness as Jameson stared at the amber liquor in his glass. He didn't care too much for the cheap stuff, but he had lost everything, and Jack Daniels had just become his new best friend. 

He swallowed this burning alcohol and lifted his glass for a refill, knowing it would take more than a few glasses to warm him up. Yet, despite not being drunk, he found that he couldn't keep his head from drooping, curly black bangs creating a curtain for his eyes. 

Hey man, you alright? The bartender asked, and Jameson let out a grunt in reply.

Man, I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me you're alright. Otherwise, you ain't getting another drink out of me.

Jameson looked up and stared for a long time, and the young male, uneasy, refilled his glass and walked quietly away. He seemed to always bring the worse out of people. Like he did will Camilla. Oh, Camilla. Their relationship was fiery hot, and yet sour like battery acid. Camilla was a sexy redheaded minx whom Jameson thought he could settle down with after what happened to... no. He couldn't even speak her name, let alone think it. For if he did, his world would spiral into another shit hole. 

Camilla knew what she wanted from the beginning. He met her at a blood bar when he was at his lowest, and she provided him with the high he needed to forget his sorrows. Bloodsucking. She got hooked and then pursued him until he caved and in turn rewarded him with her company both physically and emotionally. Camilla loved people and money and art and money, but more than anything, she loved herself, and Jameson admired that in her. Jameson understood better than anyone else how hard it can be to love yourself. But Jameson had failed to realize that Camilla loved money and only herself. He did not fit anywhere in that equation. Fucking vampire cunt. 

He raised his glass for another. 

Honestly, he knew he wouldn't spend the rest of his life with her. NO. He couldn't disgrace HER like that. But he enjoyed her company. Okay, he enjoyed the sex and the high he got from blood-sucking. But they didn't really talk about anything, and she was always asking for money. But it didn't matter because their relationship was transactional and founded on mutual respect for one another. And most of all monogamous. Or so he thought. 

Now, because of her, he had to leave the life he had built up in New York City and start anew. Spread his wings.

 The bartender looked from cleaning the bar and glanced at his cup. "Another glass sir?"

"I think you know the answer to that question," he responded and the bartender filled the glass to the brim and he grinned.